Mute. Vulnerable Given to collapse. My heart lies diminished. Having peeled back too many scars, too many layers I am raw, besmirched, and not yet itchy. There is no comfort in expectation. In the opposition of neurons corrosively overburdened. I think too much. I succumb too easily to lawless sleep. To anti-realities and dissociations. Hours pass more quickly than minutes. Minutes are impatient. Minutes add up but hours reduce. It’s a long time waiting for the sun to drop. Waiting for my responsibilities to undress and settle serenely into the arms of a generous lover.


I am exhausted. Minutiae are threatening mutiny. I scurry, kaleidoscopic, through rooms on the verge of collapse. The Gilings are on the rise. I’ve arrested the latest pathogenΒ  and all I really want is to lie on the sofa with a swatch of velvet thrown over my icy limbs. I want to dream, idle dreams, that require neither compliance nor consummation.


Gilings just means dust but it sounds like some type of creature doesn’t it? I am emotionally and physically exhausted and yep I am getting sick. Also I want people to write letters real pen to paper letters. I keep telling myself I will write letters but to whom? My hand-writing is atrocious and I’d drive myself crazy worrying about it. I wouldn’t even have very much in the way of concrete things to say. Maybe I should write post cards lol I absolutely love post cards.


31 thoughts on “Diary Entry September 27 2013

  1. Oh bless you, I hope you feel better soon, on all levels. Yeah, there’s nothing like receiving a proper handwritten letter or postcard. Hmmm, so, I’ve found the best way to receive is to give first what you’d like to get, so…yeah, send a postcard! You’re a wonderful writer, you could even send someone one of your poems on a postcard, if you can’t think of something else to write…take care:-) Blessings, H xxxx

  2. there is no comfort in expectation—-huge amen on that one…
    i have felt the burn of expectation of late
    pretty well passed out last night i was so tired…
    but slept good.

    i like post cards as well…

  3. Ugh, hate getting sick. Hope it doesn’t last long. Your writing doesn’t seem to suffer from it though as it is as beautiful as always. πŸ™‚

  4. Even your diary entry has so many sentences that would make great poems. What a wonderful writer you are. Get well soon, M. You know, you can write paper letters, scan them, and send via email to anyone you want πŸ™‚

    1. That is an idea but my hand-writing is difficult, right now I am copying something from my journal that I just wrote today so it is nice and fresh and I am struggling to read it lol Thank you Elia =)

  5. The mention of post cards reminded me of PostSecret:
    “PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard.”
    You are encouraged to put on the card something so secret, no one else knows. The website explains how it all got started, mailing address, when/where the travelling PostSecret is installed in art galleries and museums.
    And, yes, I did send a PostSecret postcard and no, I’m not going to tell what my secret confession is!
    May I “borrow” the term “Gilings? I often think of dust bunnies as house hairballs. (Ooops, hope that doesn’t conjure up the wrong image.
    Get well soon!

      1. My house hairballs are on the run. The Gillings are coming, the Gillings are coming.
        The name strikes fear into their very heart and soul! Now, if the Gillings don’t show up, I’m be house hairball free, and we don’t even have a cat.

  6. Love love love this….I think I will be doing what we discussed. Will do first post today….I hope. πŸ™‚ And if you ever want a pen pal, I am willing to do it. No need to worry about penmanship πŸ™‚

      1. My home is a judgement free home πŸ™‚ lol Safe with me.

        And I am following…now to make mine. Oh my

  7. I absolutely love the closing lines:
    “I’ve arrested the latest pathogen and all I really want is to lie on the sofa with a swatch of velvet thrown over my icy limbs. I want to dream, idle dreams, that require neither compliance nor consummation.”

    Be kind to yourself during this process. xoxo

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