the inside becomes the outside

Today it rains. I am somewhat happy about this. The weather in Santa Barbara can be placid and monotonous. Or else the variations in weather are limited to rearrangements in the cloud cover/fog/marine layer. So rain. It's a thing. An event. It makes noise. Last night we both woke up when we heard something go crash in the house; this morning, I can't discern what could have fallen. Everything appears to be in its normal place. Rain also means the ants come trooping in. I've tried to herd them back outside, traced over their moving black lines with chalk, but they return. They are so numerous. Their stream flows in two directions. I'm not sure which way is in and which is out. I've been thinking of the simultaneity of surfaces -- like klein bottles and mobius strips.

Sometimes it is like I've been asleep for ten months and I'm just waking up. I've tapered down my medicine, and now I'm only taking half of a vicodin here and there. I'm still taking muscle relaxers at night and ibuprofen every six hours, so tapering down those will be the next frontier. I took a percocet on Friday, and consequently spent the rest of the weekend trying to clear the fog. I can't believe that I was taking SIX of those each day. One made me feel like a mummy -- as though my insides had been dehydrated and my outsides were wrapped in cloth.

Physical therapy is opening some new pains. I feel like I've been clinging to the edge of a cliff. I can't let go. But now I'm asking my body to let go, and it is taking a lot of work. I can think "relax relax relax," and yet the muscles remain as hard as rocks, the joints are stiff -- it's like tugging on a stuck door. The physical therapist said my strength was a 20% -- that I had the strength of an 80 year old woman. Before the injury I always imagined myself as strong, powerful. Now I must ask for help all the time. I feel self conscious because I think I must still look strong. I worry people will think "why does she need help." I probably need to let go of this too.

a world of edges and doors

corners and walls running along

running all night the turn

of a wheel & all motion

is the thing I want continuous

line without curves

angles and angles mapped

square by square I can

run all night I can sleep

all day I can find

the edge to run along

the arrival becomes

the return, re-

turn, turning.

some days are bright and sunny and it seems so easy to feel happy and optimistic. & it seems a little bit amazing that feeling happy and optimistic can be easy -- that it persists. the word it makes me think of is resilience.

I've been thinking about desire and fantasy, and thinking that desire is like a drive, is like vim. Desire as a site of possibility and health -- that to be in touch with one's desire is to be healthy. Like, wanting is good. This is different than thinking about desire as a lack. To me, right now, desire feels full.