that's my mama

where will i go
how will i know i've found the one who's right

for me it must be three
things: love and love and love and love and love

ok that's five
and no it's one but what i mean to say

is that is isn't fair
to see despair
and sacrifice your life to it

you really won't
bring happiness
despite your best intentions

you must only act
when you cannot
restrain your bursting heart

my hear bursts all the time
it doesn't rhyme
it sometimes skips a beat

one day i'll find her
then i'll calmly know
to sweep her off her feet

no that is poppycock
it must be this: my heart, my head
my balls attack with unrelenting force
until my will is still
and destiny
surrenders
to my hands
the fever rises now
it's always how
and only wow
until a pow
destroys the vow
and shatters bubbled glass
and we begin again
or regain consciousness
with something hoped but never known
with something visualized in corners, dreams, and sailing
flying
soaring in the clouds
and pushing on to outer space
and where? the planets? no the sun?
it is not suicide it's life
it is the only choice
the life we lead is licked
devoured tasted every drop of marrow
fail and you go back and try again
and then again
you'll get it right
and then we'll sail into the sun

and then we'll drift in hydrogen
and then we'll choose our colors
making rainbows
nurturing green plants
it's spring
our bodies sing
the sky is blue
and i love you
i love you too
i love you too.

i really chose a crazy path through all this love for women so much love that i must sublimate all women are the mother into love for all. it's love for all we're going for for all is one and love for one is nice a while you while away the time you love them all what can you do you love them all.

and fall and rise get up climb up and jump! and this time you will fly and float and soar around the ground is look! it's tiny! and the birds will play and swoop and dive and dive and down and pull the ground and pull! the ground is coming sound and pull! you asshole crash! you failed again and now you're dead.

one day you will no! you'll dive and pull up and you'll go and then come back and teach us all teach all to fly. the title of this chapter is one day.

reed reed reed; reed all day. the misspelling seems so artificial, but i can't stand sound ambiguity. of course i love all other ambiguity. my favorite member of the fantastic four is the thing. then they went and ruined everything with the she-hulk. she-hulk should have never existed.

i can't stop reeding war and peace. i'm addicted to it. i keep trying to recapture the feeling of that first time. i sip it slow, like fine wine, brandy, bourbon, scotch! bourbon or scotch? how can i decide? but i don't drink i bet i could enjoy a glass of good kentucky sour mash, or maybe courvoisier, what with all the reeding about napoleon.

napoleon was a great man. the french are right to celebrate him. i can't stand french people.

no, i love people. but someone had to be the french, and there they are. they're so sleazy! i suppose i feel about them the way the chinese feel about americans. isn't there more to it? ugh! ugh! ugh!

maybe i am in love with donna jensen. of course i'm in love with donna jensen. but am i crazy about her? i suppose not. i could influence myself in that direction. you know i've really never been crazy about anyone. i've always wanted to be, but never have been. i've always been in complete control. always. forever. even in my highest states of intoxication, from pain, fear, drugs . . . lust . . . i have never lost my head. i have never understood those who claim such phenomena.

i'm sure it happens.

what am i talking about? yes, donna jensen. is this lust again? i don't have to fuck her now. i can always pick her up later. i'd have to go see her. she's here, now. i could tell her in person. i would really like to fuck her. but i'm not gonna fuck up someone's life again. she's in love with chevi. what the fuck does that mean? he won't even fuck her. he's probably gay. people need their lives shaken up.

"donna jensen, you are mine," is all i'd have to say. she turns me on. yes, she turns me on. sex is important to me in a marriage. she's 21. for five days now. my mother was that young. why do i have to think about everything?

this is all rationalization of lust. my dick is controlling my mind. my choice is clear: act from lust, or do not act. but if i act from lust then there's also bai yun whose third and fourth letters are sitting unread in my inbox.

here i go again, about to make things complicated.

god dammit no more shame! no more weakness! fuck or don't fuck. but don't regret it.

-----

my pen ran out of ink. it was a good pen. usually i lose a pen before i use the ink. or it stops working. i wonder if i can find white-handled blue-ink papermate ball-point pens here. i'm pessimistic. this pen is not as good. it's fine. once we get to know eachother, we'll be fine.

i am in love with natasha rostov. i hate anatole kuragin. i want to save all the natasha rostovs from all the anatole kuragins.

i will not be an anatole kuragin! on the other hand, how do you save a natasha from an anatole except by letting it happen. letting her experience the heartbreak. we learn from our mistakes. but some mistakes take up a lifetime. that's ok. still, i will not be kuragin.

i'm sitting here reading this book afraid to turn the page. end of chapter 14 of book 8.

the answer is to educate young mamas so they know by age sixteen not to be so stupid as to believe a corrupt seducer. se-ductor. dishonorable rogue. rake, as leo puts it.

i would love some roast beef, and egg noodles, and a glass of wine. red. and fresh whole wheat bread, with butter. always the stomach that is most aware of homesickness. my grandfather knew what he was doing. i used to laugh at his english feasts in remote corners. now, yes now. and a vegetable. perhaps squash. broccoli. both. and carrots. onions. mushrooms. gravy.

here i go no shoes who cares i'm writing as i walk i breathe i live again!