Staceyann Chin

Up and Down...

...the site
the journals go.

one day we will have this mess of an electronic love letter carved out and sent.

in any case
it's been a messy couple of months

again
the fingers hesitate over the page
each time these hosts and servers and what nots
fuck up
I start again

no luxury of a continuance
a thought carried over
a brooding given from one frame to the next

every time
the killing is begun again
the healing is longer
the old sore stubborn

an ulcer
reluctant to stitch itself into new skin

I am in Atlanta again

Show at Agnes Scott Today
with Doria Roberts

I go from here to Chicago
alone
for the 13th Annual Gwendolyn Brooks Black Writers Conference

My boy Quraysh is putting all the pieces together

I admire minds who can be present enough to plan entire conference. I barely know how to get from one place to the one event that marks my participation in an evening.

I wish I could drive.

Downtown Decatur
I forgot my vibrator

shit

I am writing
from planes again

one week at home
almost

Saw Ain and Tiona etc last night
good night filled with laughter
and just enough sorrow to make the evening
undull

reading Sylvia Plath

just finished My Year of Meats
by an author named Ruth Ozeki (I think)

check out Patrick Neate

interesting writer guy from somewhere far and away
London I think

I am a little better at accessing my feelings
I was a little numb
a lot numb for a while

could not feel my body
my fingers tingle toward sensation
my pen wraps itself more comfortably around my truth

these days
I am inking in the water
regardless of who it will stain

I am trying to not write from a place of intent
trying to get back to just spilling

it's hard when so many people are slistening to your thoughts

but this path
is chosen
given
prescribed

whatever
this is the way I am walking

so shut up chin
and write

so you are older
maybe a little worn

but you are not a glass globe
sitting unchanged on the desk of someone's imagination
you must grow
and fail
and learn lessons
and each lesson comes with its mark

a scar
a blemish
tattoed on the plane of my experience

I wear all the scars well

the ones who loved me
and tried to convince me of such

the ones I could never believe
the ones who will never leave

staying is a way to survive
sometimes leaving is just too hard

My therapist thinks I am an impulse
I think

the middleground has always been so fucking boring

I got a PO box

Staceyann Chin
PO BOX 130459
Brooklyn NY. 11213

mundane but handy. the application
the proof of address
the payment for the year

six months
a man named henry took the money

life and a list of worries
I am thinking of home

I always do when the sharp breath of winter yaps insistent at my heels

tropical feet don't like shoes
sandals

and I am in florida
from the 4th of November to the 14th of November

West Palm Beach
Orlando
Miami

and a place called Withalachoochie in Dade City
kiss me woman

I miss you still
after all this

miss you
colors and all

I miss you

Good Morning World

It's good to have you back,
Staceyann

Posted by staceyann at October 29, 2003 02:00 PM