playing and experimenting
and stretching and folding
and walking and posing
and it almost
almost
almost felt like madison
again
Month: July 2026
July 20, 2026
the immediate is often a good way to start
the senses:
i see — this blank page in front of me, but like most digital
formats, i’ve kept it in dark mode, so it doesn’t really feel like
a blank piece of paper, white and crisp and clean, it feels like
every other dark digital adventure in my life right now
i hear — the fan above me, well, i believe i hear the motor
turning it, not so much the fan itself, though the fan does
blow the air into my ears, and i cannot tell if that’s a hear or
a feel sense, because they get mixed up somewhere in my
brain, but also i hear cars outside every so often, and my
kip placing their mug of tea back on the table after taking
a sip
i feel — also the fan, it’s blowing its air so hard that i’m
gathering goosebumps along my arms as i write, thinking
to myself ‘maybe i should have kept that flannel on, or
brought down a cardigan, or a hoodie…’ why am i such a
freezebaby? it’s summer, it’s the time to wear shorts and
tank tops and always feel overheated and sweaty, i’m
simply cold and sweaty, like the rest of the year…
i smell — the coffee i just made for myself, blackberry cobbler
coffee, wafting in through the kitchen and through my own mug,
mixing in with the scents of this house i am now nose-blind to,
until i leave for a bit, then i come back inside, and there are those
smells, the smells of wood and kips and one dog one cat and
something else that i only associate with this house…they’re all
there in the mix as well
i taste — that same coffee, sipping every few minutes, sipping when
i’m at a loss for what to write and need a moment to find my
bearings, sipping when i feel the placebo effect from the last sip
fading, and need to remind my neurons that i’m caffeinated, even
though i know the caffeine really doesn’t affect me that much; it’s
all association with taste, and honestly, i kind of like it that way
i wrote of the immediate
i wrote three hundred plus words in this poem alone
is this enough of a warm-up for writing?
is this something i’d want to actually post?
is this enough of a warm-up for life and living?
i think so
i think so
i think so
July 19, 2026
the only thing i looked up
in terms of the world cup
was what day it
ends
that’s today!
that’s today!
i won’t have to deal with my
city, my
commute, my
life
being interrupted
anymore
after today
[and i made sure today was a day
i stayed the fuck at home anyway]
good riddance to these hassles
and good riddance to the idea
that people would come into this country
as it slides down its slippery slope to abject fascism
i hope it was boycotted to the point of abject failure
[i sure know i’d never pay $93 to take a bus to jersey]
*side note: at least those who did travel, met american citizens in these cities
who showed our allegiance is not with the current administration,
and perhaps world relations are bettering in some ways
which i suppose is part of the point of the world cup
ugh…
July 18, 2026
i can’t tell if the sun is shining behind a thin cloud
or if the haze in the atmosphere has gotten that thick
but either way, i can feel the sun, but i can’t see the sky
i’m hoping one day this will all be some kind of
terrible
memory
dream
fiction
past
[but i’m not counting on it]
July 17, 2026
writing gibberish
writing balderdash
writing silliness and illegible things and nothing at all
writing not only to have written
but to feel the feeling of writing
writing to wake myself up and warm myself up for the day
that probably won’t include more writing
[but you never know…
you
never
know]
July 16, 2026
i never thought i’d be able to see
[or smell]
fires burning hundreds of miles away
but here we are, in the haze and 90+ degrees outside
and the air that smells like melting plastic
it’s unhealthy for sensitive groups
i’d say it’s unhealthy for all of us
humans and animals and ocean and planet
and i’d love to have a summer that feels like the beginning of the world
rather than the end of it.
July 15, 2026
i write poetry
every
single
day
and i wish i wrote
other things
almost
every
day
too
and the easiest would be
storytelling
through
the poetry
but whenever i try to stray from facts
my whole body and soul
completely rejects it
until i cannot even fathom
putting anything out there
that is not 100%
verifiable
July 14, 2026
when one is getting sick
and one thinks that there may be a slight potential
that the illness may be able to possibly be avoided
if one sleeps well
it is always in those moments
that the sleep becomes
abismal
July 13, 2026
enough of that…
enough of it all!
[it’s funny how recording an audition to be a villain
infiltrates my poetry-vibes as well…]
July 12, 2026
tiny books and booklets
and notebooks and scraps of paper
and bound and unbound pages
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere
what will i ever do with all these writings?
[what will i ever do with this digital equivalent as well?]