hypergraphia

aquamarina reminded about these pages i have floating out in the world. it's lovely to imagine that. i should fill more of them and set them free so here i am.

and i have a new fetish, the little laptop that makes me want to click away. the novelty hasn't worn off yet. i dig this tactile thing to makes you want to put something just to touch keys, bang something out. it can be a fetish writing, writing just to write to fuck around and be happy to play with making marks on a page. i remember thinking that when i saw the basquiat show last summer and then i got into him for a week and rented that old movie he made, downtown 81. how he liked to just mark up a wall, how good the spray paint can must have felt. i think he says something about it somewhere. you could tell from his handwriting how he loved the sheer act of writing, he made his own font, that all caps style of his.

i was reading something at the time called the midnight disease, a neurologist talking about why people write. she was interested in some illness i think it was, called hypergraphia, like you just ooze writing, you need to be constantly writing, it might not be great but it's just the putting it down that you have to do. i know i enjoy the feel of a good pen, a new color, a clean journal sheet. and now these letters individually represented, alphabet buttons, new games for the fingers, the hands.

i've been teaching the kiddies again and i'm always fascinated watching how they get to a page, if they get to it. they do this whole writer's block dance about their pencils, don't got a pencil, can i borrow a pencil, gotta go sharpen my pencil. and then i don't make it easy cuz i am judgmental when it comes to writing. i know they're children but i still have expectations even though i swear i've tried to get over that sort of thing in this detached adulthood of mine. one poet teacher chick did a good job of explaining one day how the discussion that arises from the work i share with the children, from the process of getting it on the page is the real lesson, the product shouldn't be the emphasis. but still i want them to make cool things and i still don't have control of how that happens. i still want control despite this detached adulthood. i haven't learned shit.

i actually have other writing and editing to do but it's a slow process that and i haven't been that thrilled with that work. it's ok, it's a collaboration between pisceses and it went as such things might, four fish going in different directions. tons of miscommunicating fun. i would rather not face it right now but i have to get it done by some point tomorrow.

i just want to have some real joy right now. twas a long week of office and school. i got some fancy stuff to eat tonight, prosciutto and manchego and grapes, got some good smoke, and a friend brought over some lovely drink. a cheesy movie came in the mail, hustle and flow. decent entertainment for the night. they sang their own stuff, that was respectable, the classic white boy writer tropes were not. nothing to be too hurt by though, i refused to care that much tonight.

i'm watching videos right now, jamie foxx is singing on a split screen.

i enjoyed my company. he talked about spain as we ate our winter tapas. i liked imagining we had made a little spain in my hole in washington heights. they apparently know to chill and i feel that capacity in my blood.

there's some noreaster fixin to hit tomorrow. i'm writing with a southern accent cuz of hustle and flow. i think i would enjoy further burrowing into my hole here, hibernating in my tenement cave. como un cusuco en su something my mother says. a cusuco is some indian shit i never heard of, i think it's like an armadillo or something. there is some shit on her tongue i just think she be making up sometimes, indian shit vaguely remembered. she could be right, in the middle of central america someone might understand what she's saying. a cusuco tucked in deep in its hole, happy to be hidden, warm in its own flesh.

i think i'm gonna wrap me up in some cloths and forget, keep me from the cold. night. mornin'.