web analytics

Birthday, oh scorpio woman, you wounded brightness…

November 13th, 2013 § 1 comment § permalink

It’s my birthday on November 16.

This birthday—nothing makes sense, smashed to bits, devastated, whatever — but there will be a party! There’s always a #dancecats party with me around.

Maybe I don’t deserve an uncomplicated life listening to J Dilla with a husband collaborator academic artist, children, cats & matching bicycles. Or maybe it’s because those who want me I’ve outlived? That’s probably why I haven’t written anything interesting in this blog other than academic updates in so long. But am I doing a clever job covering up the pain? does it seem like I’m getting shit done? Because I don’t feel it at all. But maybe you read my memory project and read things like this:

Longing for our fumbling fingers the first time our hands met each other.

.

Mexico, te extraño mucho de menos. Muestra señales de vida, querida.

.

Fatal error: Allowed memory size of 103809024 bytes exhausted (tried to allocate 261900 bytes) in /nfs/c02/h08/mnt/20797/domains/raisecain.net/html/ndxzstudio/common.php on line 304

.

I watch him sleep between the layers of white bed sheets and trace the world on his exposed shoulders down to his left arm up to mine. It is all I can do as goodbye.

.

He walks in with a careful step. His hug envelopes me completely. First it’s the ribs, then the arms, then the face. “My M—, oh, you need some energy.”
His girlfriend nods in agreement.
I can feel his fingers over my emaciated flesh as they push between my ribs.
“You look sickly, I am worried.”
I think I should be but I’m not. I stand proud with bags holding up my eyes.

.

I stood still in the rain waiting for him. A wounded brightness among his doubt.

Affections turned into experiences.

But, for real, are you out there G-d? Can I just have some peace? A little bit? Like even for a year or two? Just slow & steady happiness? I was putting in so much effort. Why did no one warn me that it was in all the wrong ways? I’m learning, I’m learning, I scream, but I’m reminded I’ve outlived the efforts.

I’m the most productive when in love and having sex all the time. Everything comes easy. I don’t need much sleep. I wake up happy & ready. My mind is sharp & my eyes are clear.

Since I can’t have what I really want, bring me poems. I just want poetry, poems, poems, never ending poetry for my birthday. I want Erica Jong, Anne Sexton, Warsan Shire, Wislawa Szymborska, George Eliot Clark, Mary Oliver, Czesław Miłosz, Rumi, Hafiz, Adrienne Rich, Anne Boyer, Margaret Atwood, Sara Teasdale, Keats, Saul Williams, Allen Ginsberg, Sylvia Plath, Sanyu Kisaka, Sharon Olds, bell hooks, new poets, new poems, your poems, your words … give me the words of all the pain and desire in the world and let me live.

PS. This is my work lately…

(Why) do we care about sharpness and quality? (2013)

Self-portrait (2011/2013)

Save for Web “0” quality, 15 times.

JPG | 10.73K | 3 sec @56.6Kbps

Birthday Post.

November 7th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

It’s my birthday on Nov 16. So many birthdays moved through me, from the liveliest parties of 100+ friends, to house parties with broken furniture, to ending up in emergency finding out I am pregnant, to to last year’s self-imposed spent all alone (I didn’t even blog about it!).

2010 / 2009 / 2009 / 2008 / 2008 / 2007 / 2006 / 2005 / 2003 / 2001 / 2001

Because materialist fantasies once a year are totally A OK (& so are gifts^^):

Yse

Oracle Ring

Tarot earrings

 

Tentacle Earrings

 

Nomad necklace.


A Flickr Pro Account because mine is expiring and that would mean by thousands of photos would be gone. :(

Birthday.

November 12th, 2007 § 1 comment § permalink

My birthday is on Friday. I am turning 20?20! And have two big parties planned! One for each 20. I have a limited Amazon Wishlist because books are the best things in the world! I am doing so many things. I want to sleep sometime! Maybe in January! The Goodwill by my house always has the best books. On Saturday I picked up Ten Good Seconds of Silence by Elizabeth Ruth, and Molly Jong-Fast’s Normal Girl. How will I give all of these up when I move? My dear books. I have been cooking and baking on many occasions. This weekend I made ratatouille with organic brown rice and banana bread pudding for dessert. All I want to do is stay inside and cook cook cook, maybe because it’s been nothing but a downpour the last few weeks here.

My first attempt at a veggie lasagna the week before turned out pretty tasty.

Birthday.

November 19th, 2006 § 1 comment § permalink

My birthday lasted a week, the way I wanted it to. It was so fun. Tuesday was Luke Vibert, which ended with my brucking out to amensamensamens. Thursday (the actual birthday) was a fancy dinner at the Town Grill & a surprise to the Roy Ayers & The Original Superstars of Jazz Fusion show at the Phoenix. Friday was some liquid funk dnb at B-Side, which was pretty lacklustre but we had fun getting burritos and trying to discuss philosophy with frat boys. Saturday all my girls came out (except for my bff which really saddened me) and we were the holleration crew. So drunk on wine & gin & tonic. Dancing to funk & soul. I smoked so much weed this weekend, I feel all earthy. I am so happy. This was one of the best birthdays in many years. I am so blessed with these wonderful souls around me. Fuck. I am so lucky. If you’re feeling a good internet connection, you can download a good version of the video of me really really really soused here.

Birthday.

November 15th, 2005 § 0 comments § permalink

I am extremely overworked & feeling so lonely these days. My birthday is tomorrow. I just want to get into grad school & feel something. We’re moving to south Riverdale at the end of December. Lady Sovereign is coming. I miss getting stuff by post.

It was so uneventful. I spent my birthday at the library.

The Birthday.

November 17th, 2003 § 1 comment § permalink

I feel as if something should happen. That I should stumble upon some bourgeoning explosion that will somehow make everything the way it has been socially constructed to occur. But its not going to because it’s over that simply, because it’s just past midnight & somehow I am one year older as of this moment. Somehow one day determines your age & since that day you are placed in some bullshit social category that is so arbitrary but yet still weighs so heavily on cultural rules. I remember watching a Blossom episode as a youngen in which she didn’t want to celebrate her (17th?) birthday & was feeling depressed because she felt she was getting old too fast for her to handle. I’ve been turning 19 for a few years now & it’s become a joke in my circle of friends because only the select few know my real age unless they’ve deciphered it somehow. I’m in complete denial of my age because it’s coming too fast & time doesn’t wait yet I let myself wait; for what? For the explosion that cannot occur unless I provide it with the reactors & I’ve been trying but I let everything enervate me. Yes, typically – I fell into a lapse of a birthday depression today & cried my eyes out because my life is pulling me in directions I cannot keep up with & I have let too many people become my friends instead of letting them stay as acquaintances that don’t necessitate expectation & as always my life is more fucked up than a Picasso painting. But I’ve incurred this. The predicament lies in the nature of the I, the I we have grown up to believe is the source of our problems. Guilt pisses me off, self-deprecation pisses me off, the whole category of feeling like a bad person pisses me off. It’s all so ridiculously perpetuating the depressed culture we live in.

What is the point of celebrating the day you were born every year? What does it matter really? Wow, I survived another year so therefore I must have a celebration that puts me under pressure to perform my birthday duties & I better be as nice as I can because any negativity will be automatically judged as the birthday girl being selfish because it’s her birthday & she must please & accommodate everyone. It’s always a paradox of the need/don’t want dichotomy isn’t it?

At least I did so much blow it felt like it was bursting out of my eyes & got to make out & was felt up by this hot girl who was looking for a sexy girl at the club & my friend introduced me to her. She had tattoos & skateboards & I have no idea what her name was.

birthday.

November 16th, 2001 § 0 comments § permalink

Happy Birthday to me.

20 and banged up.

Sounds lovely doesn’t it.

Positive.

November 15th, 2001 § 1 comment § permalink

The nurse coming in is running through my head like a flip cartoon.

— “It’s positive”
— “Really, oh yes, I’m not pregnant”
— “MMM, positive means you are”

Me just stone cold. I can’t be. I always fuk around about it,
but not now. Not me.
The denial is overwhelming, like maybe I will wake up and it
will all be over.

Pregnant
Pregnant
Pregnant
Pregnant
Pregnant
Pregnant
Pregnant
Pregnant

My birthday is tomorrow, and this is my gift.
I’m 19. I’m 19. I am more so than anything – fukt.

I want to do everything I can too keep it, but all around me
abortion echoes because I am too young, I will have to
quit school, because I’m not ready, because my life will never
be the same, and I have no one to really talk to other than
Jordan. But it’s his baby too, it’s not the same.

My body is turning and dancing in this eupohria far away from
my room. It’s smiling and giggling, I am of two.

I am of two.

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing entries tagged with birthday at MAGDALENA O!SZANOWSKI.

%d bloggers like this: