This bed is a ship

This bed is a ship is a sporadically updated internet journal, 
a home for odd scraps of writing.

notebook scraps (perhaps some of these made it into this tumblr when they were first written but whatever, I’m recycling a lot of paper tonight)

*******cw violence and sexual harassment*************

the internet squeezes out cats into your living room

all my words are stolen
the language of a scavenger
feels good in my mouth

all these shapes force themselves through my body, glowing scripts in some reaching– I send long thick lines from my teeth through the air to you, all my languages the tongues of want, a bringing in of–

my body and my words are inextricable from each other, these oceans of language that pour out of me into a dozen glowing boxes, they are all made up of my blood

the wind that is the god

the word, any and each, is never separate from the world

Having a casual one-woman wine and cheese party alone in an ugly basement, trying to keep the sickly-sweet smell of panic from my voice. Suddenly recalling that New Year’s Eve years ago when with those 4am drugs and a little white dog playing on the floor my friend got a call from the stranger who kept calling her and masturbating and saying awful shit in broken english and I took her phone and I told him exactly what I would do to him, how I would find him, where he lived, find his bedroom and go there and put my hands on him, with my bare hands I would rip his cock off his body, I would tear the foul thing right off and he would scream and scream and scream in pain and I would barely hear him over the roar of rage pouring out of my mouth like the blood poured out of his stupid body. I hated him so much in that moment I could hardly see, I only half-remember the sound of his voice but I think he really sounded scared or maybe surprised or maybe it’s wishful thinking but I think he apologized before he hung up. It was weeks before he called her again, something I only knew about later, when it had finally stopped, maybe he found someone else to bother, she was pretty sure it was someone who used to work at her old job, phone numbers on the work schedule contact sheet, and how someone clears dishes doesn’t necessarily tell you how they’ll treat a woman when they think they’re anonymous and god I love technology but every time I read a glow screen sentence about punitive–I feel so incredibly violent that I question a couple of things about myself. 

I want you I want you I want you I want you I want you I want you

so easy to make the slip–so easy to make the slip–I want you–some foolish mistake, some words slurred by the haze of lusting, I would happily look into those deep wet eyes for all the time allotted me, you make me want to care for all those things so long neglected.

where the world stops and the person begins. being in a group, “I would not do a violence to any of you, because it would be doing a violence to myself.”

the hegemony of Cartesian dualism– but then is any attempt to supplant it with any other all-encompassing, universally applied theory on how people and bodies relate going to be equally hegemonic?

if you sound bored by the act of speaking, the act of listening will likely be boring too. 

Sid BrancaComment