I’m tired

I’ve been talking a lot this week.
I like talking
But talking so much, I can’t remember whether I said something before or not
But talking so much, I can’t remember whether I said something before or not
At least someone wanted to hear what I said-or at least, they thought they might.
That’s lucky, I’d say.
Thank you, ICAF- Jose Alaniz, Jared Gardner, Bill Kartalopoulos, Brittany Tullis, Caitlin McGurk, and so many others.
Thank you, WCBN and T Hetzel and Elizabeth.
Thank you, Professor Sara Blair and all the graduate students in her class.
Thank you, Amanda Krugliak and Lucy and the Institute for the Humanities for a beautiful show.
And thank you to my students for being such a great bunch and doing such great work.

Road trip

I want to go for a long ride with a stranger. I’ll pay for the gas, I got the whip. The stranger pays for his or her own everything else. We drive hundreds of miles to remote places we’ve never been before. This is not about sex, it’s not even about getting along or reaching any particular destination. It’s about being. It’s about having no history.
There are types of strangers I’d love to travel with, maybe because their description seems superficially so unlike me:
1. A black man between the ages of 40 and 55.
2. A Hispanic girl between the ages of 15-20.
3. A white man, exactly my age, to the day.
4. A white woman, exactly my age, to the day. I can assure you, she’s nothing like me.

Anyone game?

I see

1. A pine tree
2. My knee
3. An empty nest in a bare walnut tree
4. My phone
5. A mound of dirty snow
6. An old burnt match on the deck
7. A cat cage
8. The sky
9. My neighbor’s tv antenna
10. Other shit

phoebe gloeckner's blog; one of countless many.