this whole semester has felt like a dream.
i am still dreaming.

i'm thinking of moving to the city after i graduate.
i want to surround myself with artists and writers and the hustle and bustle and just pump out some good literature.
then i'll retire to the countryside with my 80 billion cats and dogs and pigs and i'll milk cows in the wee hours of the morning.

while this has been one of the most bizarre and hellish weeks ever, there are some very good highlights:

we have a kitten!
she's a 10 week old tabby kitten that molly and justin rescued from some crazy lady with three kittens.
we named her Zula.
she's really sweet and loves to cuddle and purrs like a motor boat and sleeps in my bed on the occasion.
hopefully phil will be able to take her at the end of the year, if not...i'm going to steal her.

i made it to the next round of the slam tryouts.
so did phil, justin, molly and chris and some other kids.
the judging was really fucked last thursday.
joe rectified most of it.
the grand slam is on tuesday and it should be pretty swell, but i need to write and practice.
if i don't make the slam team it won't be the end of the world.
i'm just trying to break out of being this "shy on-the-page" writer.
i need to be exposed.
i need to be uncomfortable.

two weeks left of the semester.
the snow today was so lovely.
i'm so happy i have an eastern hemlock outside my window.
it's like a winter wonderland behind my head, my ears and toes.

things still fall apart, things not like string and buttons and shredded paper but more like human hearts and broken cell phones on pavement and fists and eyelashes on eyelids and and sinking souls forgotten in corners of cardboard boxes and unwashed bedsheets.

Coming home always feels like one sleepless dream where you awake from a slumber feeling more groggy and sleepy than you did before falling asleep.

Thanksgiving was alright. My papa is really sick, he came out of the hospital after several strokes. I gave him a great big hug and he said "who are you?" So I took off my hat and then he said "Aha!" Most of the time he just yelled about the patches of light on the floor hurting his eyes. when he pissed himself I turned away because I was embarassed for him, because I was so ashamed.

when we went to leave, he asked when I'd be back. I said "I'll see you in 3 weeks!" and he replied "see you in my dreams!"
it made me awfully sad. holidays seem to get sadder and sadder the older you get.
I feel like the magic in holidays are fading very rapidly.



Tuesday night before coming home for break was really swell.
Phil, Vern and I decided to go to joe's house to hang out. I finished painting the tree on his wall I started last time. Vern painted flowers on his wall. Phil drew weird designs and faces and I painted the yellow submarine on the kitchen wall. it was great. paul was there too, and he and joe went out to get strawberry marshmallows so we did that and had a great big bonfire and made smores. joe told us all these fantastic stories about when he knew allen ginsberg and he would read with him and ginsberg hit on him and kissed his hand.
he talked about meeting kurt cobain and all these other really interesting people he's met along the way.
phil and I convinced joe he should get a dog to keep him company. "will you guys help me pick out a dog after thanksgiving break?" so we said sure.
we listened to jazz and painted some more and then phil and I attempted to stay awake the whole night but both fell asleep.

I know there is so much I should catch up on this break, but I can't bring myself to do it.
I just keep drinking tea and sitting on my bed in my room and making things out of felt and buttons.
I'm glad my mum shares my appreciation for buttons.
she said she'd make me button earrings for christmas.

I swear I'd be perfectly content if all I get for christmas are buttons earrings and a musical saw.

There is a wire coming out of my ribcage. It bends at odd angles and sticks out through my lungs and is bleeding and bending every time I breathe. I feel like I am losing something and loving something at the same time.
This is a redox reaction. A simple case of gaining and losing.

watch the eyes on your walls, watch the eyes on the head in your palms. let your mind wander, meander, ponder.
write poetry in your head and think about how thirsty you are and how much your legs might hurt in the morning.
make o the only vowel in the alphabet and practice stretching it out long so it sounds convincing, convincing enough to convince yourself.

fuck someone while they make love to you.

i haven't showered in nearly three days. does that really make your hair grow longer?


i missed the meteor shower. fell asleep.
been walking around in a daze all day, feeling cynical and broken and chewing stiff gum that's lost its flavor.

oh, i've decided i think i want to become a park ranger.

last night i had a dream i was being raped.
i was laying down in the street under a blanket and it was real sunny out and two men came up to me and grabbed me by my arms and tried pulling me away, grabbing at me and poking my ribs and i screamed stuart's name but he wasn't there. i woke up and couldn't get back to sleep.

everything today feels broken in some way.


i am falling, i am failing, i am flailing.
flailing my arms because this,
i can't stomach this sometimes.

my belly always aches because i'm missing something or someone or because i try so hard to do well at things and the outcome never reflects my efforts.

i feel like an artist trapped in a world of logic.


i want to remember that 'grades don't matter' but then there's always the rest of the tagline----'but in some ways, they do.' and i can't help but thinking that maybe i'm just fooling myself into another fantasy. maybe i'm just stuck in my head all the time, daydreaming 'cause what else have i got?
let's face it, i'm a daydreamer, i was daydreaming about my birth while in the womb and now i'm daydreaming about my birth after binghamton.
because well,
fuck this place.
fuck the walls and the tiles in the library, fuck the sorority and fraternity banners and fuck people who drink coffee incessantly (like me) and then shit out their insides in the bathroom, shit-farts echoing off the porcelain sinks.

fuck this warm november and grades and professors and expectations and people who are afraid to rant and fuck the smell of shit from the compost (because who replants trees in november, only to kill them with excess salt from melting ice?) and fuck the Atlantic ocean---the distance, and fuck Scotland.

and fuck boys who are too logical, who collapse under an ounce of emotion because their 'brains aren't used to it' and then repay you with affirmations of your illogical nature, irrationality then sends you spiraling down into a pit of self-examination and doubt and anger. ones who shiver and shake when you get angry or upset, instead of grabbing you tight and shaking YOU instead.

god, i just need someone to shake me violently.

someone today told me that love and violence are the same.
i believe him.

it hurts when my mind and my body don't want the same thing,
and my mind revolts by silently screaming and my body revolts by violently heaving.

once again, flesh becomes a thing of the imagination.

went to sleep at 4 am, strange feeling in my guttiwuts.

  belmar's going to be big tonight, i always have a lot of anxiety the day of the night of the belmar.
it doesn't go away until i fall asleep that night.

mostly i want to be alone. i don't know why. i need time to collect my thoughts on my own.

the other day i talked to joe.
apparently he knew about everything because molly had already told him bits, so i spilled.
he told me something that hit me really hard.
"maybe you're not in love with anyone. you know why? you're in love with nature. nature is your boyfriend."
and it makes so much sense...when i am outside, studying leaves and trees and thinking about all these things i want to do in my life, i am in love. it's a stable kind of love for me, something i can admire and love and appreciate without worrying about how it feels back, or if i'm spending enough time with it or whether it's fleeting.
i have wholly immersed myself in trees and ecosystems and i love it.

lately i want to keep my writing to myself. like a secret.
i don't want to be loud with it. it doesn't need to be loud. it is what it is.
i don't want to speak for it, it speaks for itself and i'd rather it sit on paper waiting to be discovered by someone than by ruined by my stuttering or insecurities.

i think it's about time i stop being that "cute, shy girl in the corner."
All I hear is, ""you're cute mckenna, you say silly things."
especially from my housemates.

sometimes, i just wish i was the one getting the attention i want to get.
i don't want to be "cute" anymore,.
i don't want to be told i'm silly and funny and cute and have a great laugh.
for once, i want people to take me seriously for certain things.
i want to be noticed for my writing or for knowing things about trees or giving good advice or being a good friend and trying hard at something i know i'm not very good at.

i feel like i can't breathe. like sometimes, he takes up all my oxygen.
i want it back, damn it.
it isn't fair sometimes, how things work out the way you want them to and you still can't figure out if you're happy.

i feel as though i've been constantly choking on my own spit and biting my lip but not really wanting to and feeling like the only thing i want to cling to is my own shadow, stitched to my side but there's always something else following me, suffocating, and i'm done, done, done.

i tell you, i'm through.

part of me wants a cigarette so badly right now but i think it's just the joy of seeing something extinguish between my fingers because honestly, if i had one puff of a ciggy i'd be afraid i'd swallow it whole from the amount of amphetamines swimming in my bloodstream.

christ! this is great

oh god, pierogies and pasta and vomit-in-your-toilet phenomena and leaves and things and FUCK SHIT DAMN. i don't feel like writing this.
but the weekend was lovely, lovely, lovely and i ate it all up and made both my head and stomach spin.

i need to start up a band with singing saws and kazoos, run away with someone i love,
publish that damn book already that's floating somewhere in my head, and do it all on a tight budget and honest heart.






in other words,
get the hell out of binghamton.

hey hey hey
stop fighting, neurons!

i want to feel normal again, whatever that means

i don't think i'll ever feel safe without a hat.

this is some hot, stinking Sadism talking, so stand up and fight you cheap bastard

i know i've said this before, but i need to go back to the whole immortality of not sleeping ordeal.
   it was fun feigning happiness when sleep deprived, and who needs sleep anyway
time is nearly irrelevant to the sleep deprived.

what a weekend.
 laziest sunday ever.
woke up, went for a run, made smoothies, passed out for five hours.
watched science of sleep.
ate some of my halloween candy.
slept for another 6 hours and got up for class.
how is it that i'm still losing weight rapidly each week

it's getting darker and the trees are all bony.
my emotions haven't been behaving themselves

i should start stitching stuffed animals again.
i might make a kangaroo.
like, a paisley kangaroo named sir. hops-a-lot.

i've gotten used to the smell of laundry detergent, clementines and cigarettes.
it clings to my clothes and sticks to my skin like one of those stubborn infant monkeys to their mothers.
fuck.

"i abuse you more than any other drug", add a goofy grin.
which sounds funny, especially the first time i heard it and thought, what would those domestic violence people say if they misinterpreted it?
but yes, we are a bit of a drug in each other's presence, some sort of strange addiction.
i wonder what drug i am?
i hope it's lsd, and that every time you see me you vomit colors in your eyelids and trip balls and confuse up and down and love and lust and stand stoic when i disappear from view.

god!

i wish he were here to punch that kid in the face again.

fuck and nuts and shit.

i hate this.

Stuart flew home today.

i cried the whole cab way home.

i don't really feel like indulging, but a lot has happened and I've been on the worst emotional roller coaster of my life.
most people found out what's happened anyway, but it's my fucking life damn it.
not a soppy soap opera to gossip over.

i want to be angry. i want to punch my yellow walls. i want someone to be angry at, but I don't have anything or anyone.
i wish there was someone to blame, but there's no one to point fingers at.


somehow, i feel relieved. i think it's because i've made decisions. i need to work on just being me. i don't want to be sought after anymore...i don't want to be kissed or wanted to held. i want to be ME.

stuart and i still love each other, and that's all that matters to me right now.

i think, as long as i believe everything will be alright, it will be.


oh, fuck october. wanky cunt.

why do i always pretend i can spoon a guy and still be his friend?
i always wind up crushed out in the end and it makes me crazy
whoaaa whoa whoa crazy
whoa  whoa  whoa