fifty-five.

Van Gogh cut off his ear
gave it to a
prostitute
who flung it away in
extreme
disgust.

Van, whores don't want
ears
they want
money.

I guess that's why you were
such a great
painter: you
didn't understand
much
else.

-- Charlie Bukowski


Scotland and I are keeping each other company. Can't seem to want to eat but the sleep has been coming up from behind, around corners - Oh, awake, an hour gone.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind works. Charlie Kaufmann keeps writing that same film but each time it's truer, even with gimmick and noise. Here she is AGAIN. Every time I write today my mother calls. Every. Time. She can smell it. The phone remains un-thrown but if I scream at the wall again my throat will bleed. Isis on repeat, Dylan ca. 1973, Desire album. Sara, Sara.

So: See Et.Sunshine as it is without Adaptation-similar brutality. Tonight the papers burn and I walk to the banks of first falling backwards onto mid-river ice. Forgetting is essential to proper memory function.

But I made up my mind that I had to go on