Untitled(the victim has a sense he is going to be victimized so that when it is happening it feels as if it has already happened, this sense is as overpowering as the need to flee.)Uncategorized
m, a sixteen year old tennis instructor, showed me a drawing of iron man she made and a painting of her dog that died recently. i liked them, especially the drawing. we talked for an hour. i don’t think the tennis instructor b liked it. she needed to talk about herself. she is half chinese and japanese. i didn’t want her to see when i didn’t understand what she said. she said my daughter should swing a towel to practice her serve.
my body odor is unhealthy.
when i drink beer my neck gets stiff. i have a hard time turning it.
he was a drunk. he asked me what my name was. i wanted to stab him in the neck. i didn’t want him to see my disgust. i thought he would see i was weak and that he and his drinking buddy would overwhelm and rape me. the victim has a sense he is going to be victimized so that when it is happening it feels as if it has already happened, this sense is as overpowering as the need to flee.
miriam rothchild wrote a book about parasites. it is a book i love. she wrote that parasites have to reproduce a lot for the species to survive. they lay millions of eggs in the host’s body, their bodies are mostly made up of reproductive organs. the male parasite sucks the blood of the female parasite who sucks the blood of the host.
parasites that live inside the host’s intestine don’t need nor do they have parts that
connect them to the outside world.
i don’t have a sense of smell or place. my timing is poor. i talk when someone talks. i listen when someone listens. i walk in the middle of the street.
i eavesdrop. folks talk about suffering. his stepfather verbally abused him, the young woman said. he stuttered for five years before he went to college.
i wake up at three pm and go back to sleep until five pm, stay up for five hours and go back to sleep. i listen to the train whistle. the willamette river has february goosebumps. my ears eyes and nose drop from my face. my arms and legs drop from my body. i’m a small mouth and an anus, two holes. i squirm into my ancestry’s asshole: doctors, professors, artists, farmers, beggars, clergy, teachers, slave traders, lawyers. i discovered an obsessive dutch ancestor slave trader who ate dirt and shit. he was happy not to have to be in the slave trade. he has nightmares about african children men and women dressing him up in a resplendent white suit and placing him in a skiff to cross the Atlantic.
i have sex with myself like a true narcissist parasite and reproduce a million small mouths and an anus, some of the anuses are located on the back, some on the mouth, some on the neck, some on the shoulder, some on the chest.