A demonic hairball. Ha ha. I pictured something like Meatwad from that adult cartoon show on Comedy Network. It always came on after Robot Chicken.
A small ball of hair rummaging through alleys at night. Like a detective show – maybe wearing one of those hats.
A pink mane – a proud lion – elasti-girl hair… invisibility – how interesting that we all came up with such different ideas. Hair balls – pink manes – healing – demonic. Maybe I am secretly demonic – or not so secretly – I mean, I am a Leo – not sure about my birth chart and rising or setting stuff – or houses – or natal blah blah… but it’s almost like I’ve been hiding my full leo-ness because I’m afraid of taking up space.
FFFFF… sighing with a PH. Not much is coming to me today – scattered, a messy room… so much sentimental stuff to go through – senti-mental – yes, going mental for my memories. How does one begin to edit out memories of their life? I’m assuming all the hipsters who live in tiny homes have parents somewhere with garages and crawl spaces for all their spoiled kids’ memories.
“But mom!’ That’s my third place ribbon from my grade 3 track meet.” (It’s important to me because I’m chubby and sedentary now – so it reminds me of a time where I had fitness goals and a thin body.)
My hair is braided tightly on my head. Pulling at my scalp. Out of my face, my mom always said.
Such a pretty face. Pretty blue eyes. Chubby cheeks.
A great-uncle said I looked like Brooke Shields because of my dark, thick eyebrows.
He wasn’t creepy. Just nice. I mean they called him Uncle Buddy.
My grandpa was Bud. Real name Russell. Never knew that till I was much older.
Back of my neck – my jaw – slowly shifting into a different place – glacial pacing.
Movement. Words on a page. Exhaustion. Do I have Covid? Nah… can’t have something you don’t believe in right.
Jaw cheek. Glacial. Sediment. Jaw. Shifting. Sedimentation. Hot seat.
What to write – what comes up? Shake my body – move my body – no one calls a mountain fat.
where rivers are born 