ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down

the snow has the same effect on me as headlights for deer. i may freeze to death, unable to take my eyes off the sky. i've seen snow before. but i have never actually seen it fall like this. it doesnt stick to the ground. it doesnt even make the ground wet. it is just the softest ice ever conceived, it tumbles down like nothing else. not like a leaf, not like a feather or a bomb or a comet, it is the nicest falling, so nice as to not be falling at all, but landing. every flake in its place. moi aussi, j'ai l'impression de tomber comme ça. ce n'est pas la chute qui compte, mais l'aterrissage. jusqu'ici tout va bien...

stacked into the metro at st michel, a woman about my age and i are plastered to the window. i started to giggle. uncontrollably. the two us, crushed, jostled, packed, nearly vacuum sealed, laughing to the point of tears, hurtled under paris completely unable to stop laughing. the world today is ridiculous and beautiful. and freezing. i feel like a puppy, i want to bite it. not out of meanness, but because i am otherwise unable to express myself. or maybe a child. i want to strangle it because that is that humans do with their hands.


everything to write: now.

emmaklara plays tonight at the theatre des marionettes, afterwards vin chaud and pain d'epices chez hanna. today is the most strange and ominous of fairytales. a glinting eye under every hood, glints at me and dodges me. the snow caught in my eyelashes feigns decadence, a diamond in every corner. the holiday crowds mill authoritatively, each man woman and child with a knife in the stomach. a fatal desire for what? advertisements scream damnation from the walls. everyone knows what you need all the time all at once. my knife burns for a stolen ribcage. i have some skin to steal. happy december, sweetmeat, i'm going to set up shop in your chest cavity, i'm going to hibernate in your leeched warmth until spring.