et je suis observateur. observateur de geste, de ton, d'image. tout en image. crise d'identité.

new plan: one for every time you felt fear. of the body. uncontrolled growth of the body. of the routine. lack of perspective. of isolation. of freedom. the other, the self, the self as the other.

olivier asked what i want from this. i wanted to study francophonie and postmodern theory. i wanted to rip my hair out by the roots, i wanted to be challenged. i wanted to get away from things that were sick, i wanted to feel like i was a part of the always expanding edge of the word, i wanted to enrich my vocabulary and learn new things and feel like my legs were strong enough to hold me and now i feel
like the girl who wanted those things
needed to slow down

maybe. (i learned how to be scared one afternoon in august what feels like a long long time ago and for some reason the part of my stomach that curled around that fear will not loosen itself from around the blade that never ceases to cut the same slice--)

i'm going to have to do this anyway and if it's not what i want when i'm finished at least thank god i'll know. and then i will go farm artichokes on the coast of california. until i decide it is time to run up to my ill-conceived idea of that always expanding edge where we all just get thinner and thinner trying to hold everything in

need to stop trying to hold everything in. let go of the knife. just let go of it. let it drop or take it in your hands at least, what do you want from this, claire, what do you want from this? you are away from yourself, you are locked in yourself you have chased down your own sickness and every other sickness you could get your hands on, you begged for this knife, didn't you, you laid up at night dreaming about it, you can yell all you like but
go to bed now.
but go to bed now.
(if what you wanted was a lullaby, you're just going to have to sing yourself to sleep)