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March
27, 2006
A needy, ragged woman
I look
old tonight. It's the first time I've grappled with worrying about
looking old. The weight thing has always superceded everything.
I can't control what I do to my body. I'm terrified of my body.
I'm being too dramatic. I'm afraid of my body. It is a carnivore.
CARNIVORE. CARNIVAL. Those words scare me. CANNIBAL. Foul air. Foul
body. Corpulent flesh. I'm tied SO tightly. I can't control my body.
It's trying to kill me. I'm terrified of my body. I am growing larger. Tons and tons of acreage.
I'm smelling a disaster. Disaster train wreck. Just look at you!
You're a fucking disaster! What do YOU know bout running a fucking
life? Surface is as surface does. I poured myself a pitcher of water.
Laced it with disaster. Served lemons on the side. I can't be a mother.
I can't take care of myself. You are too big. You are getting much
too large. Spilling out, over, through, certain disaster. I left
the candles burning all night. I could have burned down the house.
I could have killed myself, other people in the neighborhood. I am
out of control. Not so much deliberate abuse. More like trying to
NUMB. Soft, slow. Everyone says I sound so relaxed when I'm at Bill's.
Bill is so thin. I am so needy. A needy, ragged child. I am a woman.
Gretchen could be my daughter.
I will not be a victim of my past.. I can speak in sentences.
Maurie said, "I need to fill the void," and
later she said home.
No, you can't have it. No food. NO, you can't have food. NO, you
can't have love. My mother withheld from me. I want food! I want
big, lovely, warm, sweet, soft skin. buttocks. I HAD to write that
word, or nothing else would come out. I didn't get enough love from
my mother. She wasn't a bad person. She just didn't have time for
me. he just didn't know. Her pain must have been so terrible. Numb,
blinding pain. Like HER skin was being ripped off. I couldn't touch
her skin. I was a baby. Soft, beautiful baby skin. I was a beautiful
baby.
Baby, body, baby. Mother. No love. I'm so
hungry. I want to pour thick liquid into the back of my throat.
The back, where it doesn't hurt. I was a baby. I was a big body - baby.
Why do I keep confusing those words? I need to come to a place
of silence. This room is so quiet. Bill tried to tell me that.
I don't like being told what to do. I really don't deserve him.
I am not a good person. I may be an alcoholic. They are bad people.
This is a big problem. Can I just quit? Am I really fucked up?
Don't reject it out of hand. Pertinent disasters. The pleasure line
is crude. My body. I want to talk about hunger. About an empty place
where water never goes. Hunger for sex. Hunger for food. Hunger for
oblivion. Hunger for love and for security. Nothing really matters.
What does really matter, to me, I mean? I smell the pen again. A
certainty of signs. Terrified to move, a hunger. Suppressed for sex.
For communion. Oblivion.
I want to eat the world. Hunger for nature.
Land and trees and water. Hunger for companionship. For belonging.
Desire. Total subsuming desire. Desire for my body. I've always hated
my body. A feeling. An agency. A certainty of fears. Oh, oblivion.
Breathe. My body is so beautiful. I am a woman. I am beautiful. I am
boundless flesh. I am ordinary. I need to stop being ordinary. I am
fearless. I am flexible. My mind was a cold, locked box. Drinking the
water I poured for myself. My mouth is on fire with ice. I am invisible.
totalitarian, a regime that will never last. Too tight to relax with
a pen. Just a typical desire.
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