jessica

"sex is destruction as much as it is creation, right? we're killing the other as much as we're birthing them. it's like those moments when you can't figure out if you love or hate the person you're mating with."

i was sitting in the coffee box yesterday reading everything she was writing about her boyfriend and her struggling friends and her trip to argentina. shes my age. her intricate maps of the things she loves about him. the way she denies both herself and her feelings, only to take scoop of them again soon after. her vulgar! her frustrations with those who plan. her worry for the self destructive. i became suddenly aware of how much i know about her in such an intimate way. i feel slightly uncomfortable about it, maybe because i sleep in her bed. but her words are so much like things id say, ways id react if these things were in my life. i feel connected. more to her than to people i see every day.

im tired alot. maybe from eating less and/or walking more. being constantly aware. having so many thoughts. people here are closed yet vulnerable, willing. they are to themselves, but friendly. they are relaxed, but also professional. its easy to be yourself, but hard for people to see it. i feel like i stand out, but also that others dont really care to notice. theres alot to read. i feel like a child. nothing really feels like home. i feel so connected to the atmosphere, to many eyes. but disconnected on many other levels. oxymoron.

i love my room. the deep lilac walls and wooden closet. the upstairs neighbor vacuuming. the courtyard window. and i love the lady downstairs who is always so helpful to me. and the little girl across the hall with the curly fro and froggy rainboots. i love the view from the top of the hill. i even love the weight of both front doors. like they dare not let the wrong people in. but there is still one thing i long for. more or less specifically. uncertain yet precisely knowing.

en retreat,



























ps cake-shop, 9.30.09. free admission, 2 drinks, and cake.