It's Halloween!

I just sent Nark my midterm and it's crisp but not freezing outside and I have spiffy cool insect-ish wings to wear tonight and enough No-Doz to get me through the day and probably some time for a nap in the afternoon... I love Halloween! It's about the crazy-coolest holidays ever. I was going to make sugar skulls this year but haven't gotten around to it yet. I doubt I'll get so inspired as that this afternoon in the few hours between tech and Parade-going, maybe tomorrow though since Sunday is the Day of the Dead and they're technically a day of the dead treat anyway. I'm in such a ridiculously good mood this morning. Nark papers: done. Kamila Shamsie: read. Ceramics teacher: pacified. And I think maybe I do really really like the poem I took ot studio to workshop yesterday and that is just...well, cool. The roses around campus are still blooming and no one has yelled at me for picking them, I have been being stealth but honestly I'm not very good at it. If I wasn't at work I think I'd put on drummy music and spin around unitl I just fell over. Dang, it's going to be sad when this caffeine rush/ mental high passes, but until then I'l probably continue grinning like an idiot.

dream

Came back from the city to a blessedly empty room. fell asleep with the part of my mind that controls my ability to sleep placated by the smell of you off of your sweatshirt. I dreamed I was alone on a street corner, sitting on the curb, not sure what for, but waiting anyway for something. A man with some tint in his skin (ethnicity unguessable amoungst shadows) approaches me. He has the hood of his sweatshirt up and it throws all of his features but his chin and sometimes lips into dark. I think I might know him but I am not sure. He offers to give me "something to loosen your head and pass the time while we wait," or something like that. I shake my head. He shrugs then gestures to the other side of the street where the shadows are thicker, presumablely from whence he came. I shake my head, no. He looks at me for a second, shrugs again, says, "well, should you change your mind." I nod. He crosses the street and I loose sight of what is him and what is shadow, there is no doubt he is still there somewhere. I continue sitting on the curb, maybe for a very long time. You come in a sweatshirt, hoody pulled up. I do not have to see your face to know it is you, there is no question at all. You berrate me for not knowing your friend, I'm not sure if it is someone I have met before and should therefore have recognized or if there was some code phrase I did not catch. You are angry and you shake me by the shoulders hard so that my teeth ache from striking aginst each other. Waking I know it did not happen, I wonder what I missed. I am going over to the ceramery now I suppose then maybe I'll go grab some Chinese food. Maybe just Chinese food. *shrug

I didn't go to studio yesterday. I liked the poem I wrote in my notebook, but then I typed it up and cleaned it up for class and hated it. Trying to have integrity in my poem to not have all these unsaid things, but it is harder knowing I have to read them, having them be read is not as awful. I really want an editor more then I want general opinions. I want to know exactly where and why and how I'm not accomplishing whatever the poem is trying to accomplish. I get it sometimes with some people but I couldn't read this one. Maybe on another day I could have but not then and there. There are reasons now I'm glad I didn't but I'm not going to explain those. I never skip class unless I'm sick and then only if I physically can't, so I guess you're winning. I went to the ceramics lab instead and threw six things on the wheel. Maybe one will fit your goblet wish. The piece I like best I stretched it too far and it busted: Less then three inch diameter, about a foot high. I wouldn't have put any "harsh colored" glazes on it and then I have given it to Mom or Nana. Sooner or later I may start overhearing at family functions how the east--school & people (person)--are taming me. ...or something. Last night I dreamed I was sitting in the corner in the foyer making little metal things. Lots of them. they were in sets of three within sets of nine but some how the nines just never happened and it was always threes. The lamp light was too bright, it made my head hurt. There were so many to make and put in little zip-locs. You came and said I was hungry and took me down to the C-Store but it took up the whole basement and everything in it was strange. And the fancy chocolate cookies looked gross, but they had beautiful Alice in Wonderland cards inside. I didn't want you to spend money on me, but you knew I wanted them. That was all really.

The truth of the matter is simple: I want to be a bat, drinking hard lemonade, and swing dancing across the sky to Jabberwocky jazz. I want to wake up every morning smelling like the man that stayed, and myself, and—after a few minutes— tasting like freshly brewed coffee when I go to kiss him awake.