"Monsters or some bullshit"

In the glaring morning sunlight, freshly showered I felt myself having a major epiphany. But self reflection is boring so all I'm going to say is this: I am such a monster (sometimes, but to say sometimes is a little too generous). And I'm thinking about ways that I could change this, like maybe stop calling myself a monster or maybe stop being so monstrous or like I don't know you tell me. But this is boring right?

Forget I even said anything. In fact just close this window and walk away from your device.

I read yesterday for the second residents' reading. I enjoyed everyone's readings (but my own) so many of their words are still floating around in my head. Had a beer at the Hub, dance party, whatever.

I keep scratching myself raw. There's a huge sore on my ankle the shape of some country or continent. It hurts and I always seem to forget that when I'm scratching. It feels good then but it hurts so much more than it felt good later.

There may or may not be a potential summer lover. I just wanted to throw that out there because I did promise you romance and I feel like I'm dropping the ball a little.

This is a departure, the current poetry is a departure, the extreme extroversion is a departure and I feel weird in my own voice and in my own writing, like I've somehow strayed from the things that mean Sade to things that might still mean Sade but not necessarily. I can't tell whether this is good or bad or something that was just going to happen anyway.


"Sing, if you can sing, and if not still be musical inside yourself."
--Mary Oliver, More Evidence