bunny sitting

    scrolling the feed but more just looking past it, staring blankly past the phone as their index finger barely touches the screen, flicking away pitifully at all it's pixels. "just faces of people who don't really know me," naomi thinks before kind of walking from bedroom to kitchen, pausing for a moment in the hallway, then turning towards the bathroom to stand under the door frame, holding a glass of water, leaving pieces wherever they go, "in a town i'm not from, taking care of a bunny who doesn't care if i live or die, like everything else in this fucked up world.”

    the bunny comes out.

    “what is it? what could you want?” but biscuit doesn’t say anything, just gets mad and hits naomi’s ankle with the front of it's head before hopping out of the room.

    “i’ve been slain,” naomi falls like it’s the final act, “my achilles heel,” lying on the bathroom floor and thinking about being here, “everything.”

    it’s been so long since leaving the apartment that it doesn’t feel okay being outside, naomi feels an underlying anxiety about it. “walking around, just snow everywhere, covering everything, and i feel alone here like no one could understand me or something. just the tops of houses with snow on them, and i'm sitting eye level with a few of them and looking at my shoes on the side of the curb where i don't know what i think, or how come i don't like people or care about anything? am i made wrong, or was i fucked up at some point?” next to an old building, naomi hears some orchestra practicing or something. she stands there for a while and just listens to them tune their instruments and feels like they’re going to get in trouble so they left, and went to PetCo, where the pets go.

    “your card is declined,” the cashier tells naomi, “do you have another card?” “oh, can you try again?” “okay.” “thanks.” “declined.” “let me see if i have any cash.” “take your time.” naomi looks around in their wallet. “do you want me to try the card again?” the cashier asks. “could you?” “declined.” “you know what i think it is?” naomi says. “what?” “i think there’s no money in my account right now.” “oh yeah, that’ll do it.” “can i come back and pay for it later? this bunny needs to be constantly eating hay or it wont be able to shit all over the apartment.” “Lady, this is a PetCo. i’m not spotting your hay. why don’t you go to a local pet place? there’s like a dozen all around here.” “okay, thank you.” “put the hay back, will you?” “sure.” “thanks.” “no problem.”

    “hi, do you guys have any hay.” “we sure do. for a bunny?” “does it make a difference?” “it could, but not here.” “okay.” “here, let me go get it for you.” the old man walks through a curtain in the back. “thank you.” he reenters. “here it is, last one.” “thanks.” he rings naomi up. “that’ll be $7.46 with tax.” “can i pay you back tomorrow when i get my paycheck?” “oh sure, that’s not a problem. you’re all ran out at home? i know how these bunnies can get through these things, you know i used to have one myself.” “thanks so much, bye.” “see you.”

    naomi gets home and crawls into fetal position to lofi hip-hop chill beats to study/relax to playing in the background and tries not to think about any of what happened that day, but it was all too hard and they started venting to themselves unfairly with feelings they weren’t so sure of. soon though the focus they lacked, all of it was gone. they could think, for the first time, for a long time and many things started to come to them, then naomi didn't know it could go away and so it sort of felt like it was normal, unemployment comes tomorrow and another week will pass where they’ll be alright.

    the next few days naomi stayed up taking ritalin every 6 hrs, reading 9/11 conspiracies and using their friend’s projector to display the world trade center attacks on the wall, for days the lofi hip hop livestream played through it’s playlist, and only a few times did naomi notice a song repeat. a friend came over and they did research chemicals together before they both fell asleep on the floor, when naomi woke up their friend had left.

    “thanks for taking care of biscuits,” naomi’s friend comes back tired from their trip and doesn’t want naomi there. “no problem,” says naomi, “i guess i was on my way out.” “bye.” “goodbye.” naomi looks at the ground, “goodbye biscuits, wherever you are.” biscuits jumps from underneath the couch, and runs around in many circles in a short period of time.

    “I look at stuff, it doesn't make me feel anything,” naomi thinks, walking down the street. “I can imagine anything else, my whole life and everything, but could it ever happen?”

    “hey, ma’am, you!” “oh, haha, hey.” “what happened about you coming tomorrow, that was two days ago.” “you know, i totally forgot about it until just now.” “you owe me money, i took your word you’d be back.” “i’ll make it up to you.” “don’t do anything, you know, you people.” “let me pay you, man.” “alright, come inside.” “do you have any sodas or like, kombucha?”

2020 terror state becoming


there’s a normalcy over your shoulder
there being reality just beyond you
outside of it all and without qualm
at times seeming to consider our views
like a conversation almost taking place


mcnally jackson

 

leaving mcnally jackson with the sam pink book I stole in my chest pocket, felt nice to feel young again, and a great breeze for me and everyone I’m sharing the sidewalk with to share. “want some food?” “what?” “we got a bag of like sandwiches, bagels,...” “oh, uh sure, I mean maybe you should ask this dude.” I point to a homeless seeming guy. “hey, sir,” the kids sound european or something, “you want sandwich, a baguette, croissant?” “I’ll take a bagel.” “woah,” I go, “you don’t want the sandwich? cuz I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” “well, what’s in the sandwich?” the two europeans say in unison, “it’s crab.” “I’m good, thanks.” “here’s your sandwich,” they try giving it to me. “I don’t really want it either. I mean, is it good?” “it’s pretty good.” “okay, I guess,” and I walked down broadway eating this warm crab sandwich.

poem

 

there are certain images,
ones which I have found online
and others need to see

so many things people need to see
and it's up to me to show them the picture

I'm on the hunt for a photograph and I feel
like I need to show everyone that same picture

poem

 

i'm happy so much stuff exists

or else i'd have nothing to look at

or nothing to make stuff with

things to ignore, etc.

poem

 

5,000,000,000 yrs + 26 yrs + 3 mnths + 16 days & counting until sun get BIG,
and take us all out,
tardigrades et al motherfucks
GOODBYE

poem

 

he walks around not realizing that his life is already over,
but am I that person

another dream, now I’m just here
and I don’t know why

after all of that and now just this,
I can hardly believe it

I go to the bathroom to lay down on the foamy bath mat
for a while, just to be there

me and everything just going along
just me and everything except you

e.g., the light polluted night sky, my dead friends,
people who don’t like me

but when I shut the door it’s just like that, I’m all to myself again,
just alone, but there’s always this thing in me
that won’t leave me alone and I don’t know what it is
or how to talk about it, it all escapes me
to do wild and wondrous things