I put something into voice tonight, an urgent spoken story in under sixty seconds. It’s the time limit that gives me my speed, a rushing articulation of being unable to properly convey the desired emotion. I’ve installed a sound forge, a program to beat my head against like the iron deficiency currently in my veins. It doesn’t agree with my mike, all I have is what comes with the windows package. Barely a slit to let light through and with such tacky curtains, dear god. I shouldn’t be up this late today, but I am anyways. It’s the time, it’s the moon pulling. Scratchy eyes and the ill’s upon me. If I don’t kill it in my sleep, I may be looking forward to a dread week of feverdreams and hallucinations. A pithy time of not being able to recognize a face and feeling my fingers turn to sticks and my skin too small. I know my delusions now when I’m sick, but they’re unshakable when I’m living them. I admit that I’m worried. For the first time in a very long time, I haven’t a partner in town to make sure I don’t die.
It occured to me tonight that I’m a grand in debt. A weight I hardly ever think about what’s going to drain off the top of my resource cheque. There’s less than there should have been, but maybe still just barely enough. A light-weight camera and a set of new eyes. The beginnings of the travel-plan to Europe side, already set in motion. I have to get my mother onto her passport stamp. Through her windfall, I might get a citizenship. I want to be eight, nine, ten hours away. I want to have daylight rise and set across another ocean. I’ve never tasted any other sea than this.
Give me stones, my loves. Give me stories.