can you feel the love tonight?

Background information: I was a little out of my mind last night (under-statement)

I walked from the gas station after buying cigs,
it was pouring and felt perfect. I wanted to lay in the open space
next to my house but knew somehow it was a little too cold for that.
as i turned around to walk back inside, I lost my balance, slipped
onto my back and staid in that position for a few minutes ( I find when I
fall, my body and mind go into a slight state of shock.)
so ironically, i got what i wanted, even if it was due to my inability to function correctly.
If someone was watching me throughout this whole ordeal, I would have undoubtedly looked
like a maniac.

I'm also channeling my inner-lioness today as a result
of going to bed with wet hair.

second figure study.

get this sickness away!
(but at the same time i have habits
that contribute to its continuation and I'm aware
that i make my body worse. over and over.)

why is the bedroom so cold?
sing it.

I always feel as if my mind is reeling after I get out of African American Lit (and in it).
it races too fast in order to put together a coherent thought.
sometimes i can squeak out a tiny phrase.
I'm disappointed in myself for missing class on friday because of abdominal pains and a disfunctional brain and in result understanding to a lesser degree what Cultural Appropriation is.
I guess I'll keep searching.
Today in classes I recognized two unconscious assumptions I had made,
two that I would normally probably recognize in someone else (this is great and horrifying at the same time, but absolutely essential).
I also had my fiction critique. I have to digest this, because many people give
completely conflicting suggestions as to what they believe needs to be added or taken away
(are some people more compatible with my emotional state? with the way my mind forms ideas, so that confusion seen by other people, is not confusion seen by others? I guess this is one reason why we need all of these differing opinions/perceptions. I will undoubtedly talk about this later, because I'm always thinking about this, see: my professor for af. amer. lit, and different students in this class, Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, and "pivoting the center.")
.

I stayed up until 5 am last morning, drifting in and out of sleep.
it would be both embarrassing and incredibly interesting to have my thoughts recorded during this period of time
(as i think with anyone else's, although i highly doubt anyone would share their recordings with me) .

.

tonight I cleaned my dishes, a little bit of the yellow apartment, and am making soup.
normally i clean on friday nights so i was a little thrown out of whack.
but music and wine combine for the ultimate cleaning frenzy (which for me, consists of little more than shifting things around) and food making.

.
we had a show on saturday.
at first i was incredibly uncomfortable with bright lights and minor anxiety,
but it turned out ok, and dare i say fun?
until i was overwhelmed by my sweat and lack of nicotine.
but, over all, it was of course worth it, it always is.
and there were all different sorts of people there (young - old)
.

I just want to read all of the time,
in the summer heat.
this winter is breaking my bones and
filling me with an awkward solitude.

.
I've also been thinking about the boy that passed away this weekend here.
i tried to write it out.
but i don't know how to express it in words.