"No history but"

Bones to me used to mean jutting bones. Too-skinny. I wished my bones (hipcollarribschest, wristspineshoulderblades) would jut. To say...? I would guess: "I have anger in my belly like emptiness; I don't believe any of this is ever going to be okay."

I lay in bed with my thumbs on my hipbones listening to minutes pass(thumbs left scars, not many still to see).

Bones mean different for me now. I want skin and fat around them, but I want to know where they are too. Bones are: memory, things that don't hurt anymore. My center, the parts of me which are inalienable. "To the bones." What holds me up and together. My Ellie and I lined two of our prettier bones with stars—me to remind my fingers of her and of strength(our strength).

I have this odd habit now of pounding my hipbones lightly with the fleshy end of a fist when I'm thinking hard. You can echolocate your way around a waist this way: flesh, flesh, flesh, bone. There is one point which if you hit just on, it thumps down to your marrow.

A little bruise there....I don't know why, but it reassures me.

"But I guess we just deal with it how it comes, deal with the humps, take the jumps..."

Empty lot with the snow swirled as wind did it
the bokeh of streetlights when I
let my eyes slide out of focus.
I tap my forehead against the screen.
After every car that pauses at the intersection,
there is without a gap another one with exactly the same cadence:
pull up, pause, drive through.
I am pleased to have this old sweater held
together by ugly stitches
less so to have the same done to me.

***

I am tired. Not just "I need to sleep more" tired, but "want to collapse on the sidewalk, forget everything, and fall into a headphones coma" tired. I'm discouraged to have a paper to write, to not be able to find a copy of Nicomachean Ethics when I need it, to be going back to therapy yet again. My heart could use some rest, but I guess that's what it was getting for much of the last year.

Insisting and listening and waving farewell to my idea that I Have It Together. I'm okay and I will keep being okay, but also? A messy girl with a messy heart, still. It's okay; I'm okay; it'll be okay.

Soundtrack: First Aid Kit, Crystal Castles, and The Middle East.

I will end with a wish for you other tired people, that you will rest well tonight and that tomorrow will bring some things to put some light back in your heart.

Etsy [listen up, you]

Why hello!

Do you know what New Year's resolution I have recently crossed off my list?

[Do tell, which one?]

The one about opening an Etsy shop, of course, hence post title. Yay!

What that means at present is that you can now buy prints of some of my favorite Diana pictures, like the ones below.

My storefront is here.

If you're interested in buying a print but would rather mail me a check or something else, let me know. I'm flexible.

Same goes for if you want a print that I haven't listed. Basically anything I've blogged or put on my flickr I'd be happy to list; just ask.

Days

I'm worried to have caffeine again, but I'm so tired of sleeping. Days are blurring together and I'm spending more time in bed than out of it.

Notes from Old Testament

Last year scars across a tangle of limbs
sweet and all the same in pales and palers
a wild-riding yell in my throat in my
face in the wind I want to call for you
thirty, some thousands of miles away I
your crazy virgin on the pedestal nobility
of mind, blah blah, blah blah "ice cream
cones and microphones" and home alones,
sweetly sewn, love thy own, o hone
thy bones, low be shone      be shone

***

I'm a slave to politsophy and Plato this week. Think I found my thesis at lunch — rolling hard and fast.