tail end of a round week

making sense colloquium terminates at the nyu campus. everyone is nice except for one rude canadian, please go back to quebec.trilingual performance art, experimental piano, carpaccio and red wine. run to the metro in the dark with hanna, meet max the franco-russian and head off to basement bar concert under my apartment, above the sewer.

one of my plants is dying and i don't know how to save her.

me and an empty movie theater times two. les amours imaginaires and this is not a gun. meet the directors? yes. ask questions, receive answers. allyson feeds me haribo candies and i eat three hoping that i'll start to like them more. they hurt my teeth. enough of this glucose.

four hours reading hamlet instead of les soleils des independences. to die, to sleep...to sleep, but if to dream...dreadful thread of self destruction sews into me. get the scissors! the sharpest ones, the hedge-clippers! cut it out, cut out this damning thread! take everything, all the blood you find is yours.

plastic bag left on the burner, wilts half my brain cells and an ovary. everything is electric.

afternoons with jean jaurès, big mugs of tea, and a medium sharp pencil. fig tart in a teacup. tears on the pillow and in the mirror. open that eye a little wider, can you see yourself in there? pull her out! more tea, afternoon nap, big thunder and angry rain. four huge bulbs of ginger become two and a half, burn softly, but never flame out.

dinner at chez janou with laura, scallops and lamb, now we're cookin. she orders a bottle of red wine for two, community chocolate mousse, specialty of the house, music is on, we head out, drinks in the marais, man in a band jacket à la john(sean?) lennon needs us to dance, whiskey and ice cubes, rain on the cobblestones, moon on the muddy water makes everything look clean.

home, heavy everything, heavy me, lead woman wrapped in sheets of tissue paper, dehydration crowns its own princes, there is not enough water in this faucet to slake the likes of me, not enough water to fill this apartment and crackle down the window and rinse me away

the wine and whiskey fight for my soul, but only manage to kill my body. still have the mark of your hand on my face, but baby it's fading