\t\t\t\ttoday i was walking along, crossing the street, when the driver of a USPS delivery truck started honking his horn at me. i looked up and he was pointing at me, gesticulating, and i thought he was trying to tell me i\u2018d lost my pants or stepped on a corpse or something. i stepped around to the passenger side open door and asked wtf, and he said \u201ci got a package for you.\u201c i said \u201creally?\u201c he sid \u201cyeah your address is ____, right?\u201c he actually had it slightly wrong but it was close enough and i corrected him and said yeah, that\u2018s me, oh and that\u2018s you, i recognized him then. so he says \u201cyou want it?\u201c i said sure, and he got up and went to the back of the truck, which was still idling at a red light, and within seconds he handed me a box, and we both laughed and said \u201csee ya next time.\u201c<\/p>\n
…..<\/p>\n
i felt thunderous about the poetry i wrote over the last few days. this morning i attmepted to continue to the job but i fell short. i find thatg writing at my desk is a losing battle against habit and environment. that is a place for work, porn, and not much else. still, the previous stuff from the previous few days is good, i think. i mean, i like it. i like reading it. it\u2018s not easy-going, and on revision ifind myself explicating some of the allusiveness that only i would understand. some, not all. 3 sections: storm, chaos, and comprehendible. not easy, so much, as comprehendible. i have not yet matured enough for line breaks, though.<\/p>\n
does your age punctuate your days as it does mine? my age has always announced itself throughout my days, sometimes when my eyes first open but at arbitrary-seeming times. in remembering a recent conversation i mumbled to myself a question i asked someone else: \u201ci am 42 years old and both my parents are gone. is that early?\u201c some would say it is but i don\u2018t know. age is a matter of luck in so many instances. i have long found morbid the ritual of giving a round of applause to someone who is, simply, old. i understand the spirit of the gesture but i can not help but feel that applauding the living is the same as booing the dead, booing those who were outlived by Mabel, who is 102!<\/p>\n
i woke uprepeatedly last night, after a midnight shower with wine and this cell phone to amuse me. i wake up screaming about once a month, and this time i woke up bleating \u201chow did you get in here?\u201c at some phantom intruders who stood in my hallway. someone else opened the door to reveal them but i don\u2018t remember who that was. i had trouble falling asleep as memories of my mother\u2018s corpse rose up from the veins of my brain. her hands clasped, her hair a bizarre mop, her face nowhere near at peace, and a comment from a friend who said he had never seen his relatives in the casket and he has no regrets about it. when i placed my hand on the coffin i expected it to pop open, the inanimate body jumping out of the uncomfortable cushioned tube. but instead the body rots. i imagined last night what stage the body is at tonight. the day of the funeral i texted my then-gf \u201cshe is in the ground\u201c. i may have added \u201cshe\u2018s gone\u201c,which is the signature pair of words used by my sister to report the news. \u201cshe\u2018s gone.\u201c\u201cgone\u201c. i think about it when i cross 5th avenue, for that is where i was in the moments during which the news arrived and established its permanency.<\/p>\n
…..<\/p>\n
hokay, that was cheerful.<\/p>\n
…..<\/p>\n
actually, it was, for a while, last night. memories of the conventions we had in our minds.<\/p>\n
…..<\/p>\n
steak for dinner tonight. i went to costco. and returned a conquerer. foraging in the meat and pork aisles i found my prey, and i attacked. i should bring a spear to costco next time. i should mercilessly attack a package of prime rib until it can not escape, until it cowers in hopeless defeat. then i shall throw the slabs of living speared meat onto my back and i shall parade through new york with my conquest. \u201ci killed a costco steak!\u201c i shall proclaim, and there will be much rejoicing. \u201cgoing to sleep with a red meat hard-on!\u201c thunderous applause. \u201ccostco hard-on!\u201c bravos and scenes of orgiastic appreciation.<\/p>\n
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today i was walking along, crossing the street, when the driver of a USPS delivery truck started honking his horn at me. i looked up and he was pointing at me, gesticulating, and i thought he was trying to tell me i\u2018d lost my pants or stepped on a corpse or something. i stepped around […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[29],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-742","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-text","et-doesnt-have-format-content","et_post_format-et-post-format-standard"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paumAn-bY","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/742","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=742"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/742\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=742"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=742"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=742"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}