Monday, March 24, 2008

J, Through an Eternity of Frames

J is alerted--muscles drawn--at the prospect of every risk, but struggles not to advertise this.
J sleeps occasionally with a weak, incandescent light in order to conjure trance states.
J wishes for four more years.
J anticipates her prepaid tattoo of the ouroboros, an emblem of eternal recurrence.
J avoids low-balling anyone.
J wears Army surplus socks for structural support and for the likeness of walking in a footsoldier's shoes.
J frames the East bedroom window with two specimens of Beaucarnea recurvata and an unidentified Musa.
J shrinks from any implications of her aggressive behavior.
J imagines an upcoming project about equestrian vaulting, that is, when her work is done.
J converses regularly with her mother about energy portals.
J tried to steal her X-ray films of her head after being rushed to triage for totaling her first Mustang on an interstate, during a snowstorm, at four am.

J likes Freud's use of language for its shock value.
J craves V8 juice all day long, a residue of her childhood penchant for tomato sandwiches.
J listens to Sirius radio by detaching it from the docking station in her mother's car.
J plans to purchase a model of all the spinal vertebra complete with interlocking articular facets, spinous processes to pull apart and put back together (not an easy task) when her hands are unoccupied, for instance, when watching television.
J ensures the integrity of the acid mantle of her facial skin through the liberal application of a toner.
J drives around the block to avoid the milkman's Wednesday, mid-day visit.

J shows her lighter side in the admission that the ouroboros also came to her from Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions.
J needs to work on being less persistent with people, which might be construed as stalkerish.
J wants to figure out what makes Basmati rice aromatic.
J thinks her favorite Unto Ashes song is "Teach Me How to Drown".
J, in high school, subsisted largely on the blighted apples planted around the perimeter of the campus.
J's tendency to eavesdrop is reformulated as "indirect fact finding", because some things people say cannot be said directly to you.
J fears moreso of being sprayed by a skunk when she wanders in the alleys at night.
J tuned into David Attenborough obsessively on Sunday night as child.

J knows which plants are poisonous, but she splits the leaves of boxwoods, yew berries between her teeth to taste the bitter alkaloid.
J delays in putting in her request for a vacation this May because she really does not want to go, maybe she does?

J tries to diffuse the situation produced as a result of misunderstanding, of her own and of those of others.
J wonders who composed the tracts scattered around her ward on "autonomy" and "nonmaleficience".
J suffers periodically from a pinched nerve in her neck, instead of tendonitis.
J references the cohabiting members of her household as, "The Sorry Family".
J entered her phone information into her mother's phone as "Your Extracellular Daughter".

J wishes she could answer every aspect of the reader question in the "Ask Marilyn" column without looking at the answer.
J enjoys the poetry of the sentence found among French-speaking poets.
J reads Balzac with agony--for length AND precision.
J suspects she might be suffering from horror vacui.







1 comment:

Σφιγξ said...

She is limited release.