real patchouli

dvd: i am curious yellow by vilgot sjoman (swedish) poetry: happily and slowly by lyn hejinian.

finally put up my flower lights. i like how they frame the "work space" now that i took the curtains away. went to abc carpets and bought lavender wash, a handful of incenses and a sturdy gem bracelet because, well, i am an absolute sucker for anything that will supposedly encourage harmony. the real patchouli is one of the best scents i have smelt. to die to die to die for. more and more often, i think my dream job would be a traveling journalist. to smell, to taste, to live in the other life. to being behind another set of eyes and from there, trying to convey the experience, the effect of another way of being. i want to see more of others, i want to be closer to their feelings - not my own - i want to see with their sense, i want to write as if i was embodying someone else. the artist should be able to leave their body, and set out in another's in search of something other. i got my hair chip chopped at astor hair today. in all honestness, i never would have trusted to go in there - it's an all underground barbershop - anyone in new york knows it but than oribe (old hair dresser on miami beach) recommended i go to astor hair and use dominique. for $20 - and the first time a free dye and cut because he didn't think i like it - stories about the type of new yorkers he cut in the 70s, vineyard wine tastings, his twin sons, updating me on all the ny post news and anything else we can fit in the short span of my cut makes it a good quality time and easy (most importantly). it is getting cooler out. the windows are open, as well as the porch door. the upper roof of my mouth is back to its seasonal suffering from coffee burns. drank delicious espresso and americanos at 9th street espresso between c and d, read and wrote. overheard many small bits of good stuff. always an impressive awkwardness or slip up can be found at all times when ears are open. listening to free tonight by d*r*i and it's really going with or perhaps. making the vibe. for the past few days i have been trying to go downstairs to the gym. i use to be passionately (?) athletic and obsessed with multiple times a day work outs - what happened?! i would love to care and put effort into what i wear - i live in manhattan, i should shop, but won't - oh how i hate the process of dressing! it is quite debilitating and i don't look to it for any happiness. "i will do all i can to drag out the hours so i can wear a robe. it makes things slow and avoidable though." then why do it? he asked. "because i want the comfort before the moment i finally have to approach fitting proper clothes onto my body." i feel he understands me and i think this is because i told him how knowledgeable i am about the issue and my self-awareness. "there's no reason or real hope in me being sat down to listen to ideas about weight, appearance, control. i know these things. i have been living it more years than not. addiction so imbedded within, my life has been dedicated to it and therefore, i know the ideas, i understand the blame games, but i don't need the talking. i want someone to help me be." eagerly trying to finish ghost dance by carole maso. i come home each week with a bundle of new books - i wish i could absorb them all, fully, at a faster pace just so i can begin consuming another. it's all an investment... i will have the best library... that i am secure about. the truth is though, it is overwhelming, one can never have too many books and one can never know too much. at least, i don't think. there are marks i keep making on ghost dance; passages remind me so much of the fiction i was working on this summer, a sense of scent. especially when i got to page 188, i couldn't quite get over how as writers we both are trying to convey the unknown region of love - writing from the void. also, how the dialogue was not literal, but souls speaking within their confusion. carole maso is a professor at brown. i think i am going to apply to graduate school there. when a sense of scent was first work shopped, someone said he believed the two characters were meant only for each other - could be understood in depth and at their deepest only by the other. i still am taken by that feedback. and as a writer writing out her own mind, i am also intimidated by what i feel it may mean. today was one of those days where you have to bite your lip hard to control yourself from laughing - from smiling too much.