Can you take me back?

This is Neil and I. We've never taken a picture of us in the 6 years of our friendship.

The semester is over. Summer has started. This should be the time of year for relief, dancing, mistake-making, and being idle. However, since I'm in the middle of moving and don't have a job this time of year is instead a time of stress, anxiety, annoyance, and uncertainty. Although school work is insanely boring and time consuming, whenever summer comes, barring the weather, I wish it was time for class again. Class gives me structure and means that I'm not working full time and lazing away my afternoons. There is something much more comforting about that.

This week I've helped three people move and still have to move myself. I am getting pretty sick of it at this point. I've cleaned/packed the living room and some of the kitchen. I still haven't started my room or the bathroom. It will be a long week.


I really don't want a job, but I need money. I'm so lazy. I need some source of renewal.

It's been a month since I hit my head today. It's still kickin' too. It hasn't healed at the very top yet. I still have phantom stapling twangs of pain, too. Still wanting to go to bed early like a senior citizen, too.


I got a free printer from a German boy but he didn't give me a software disk or a cord to plug it in to an outlet. Should I sell this?

another one bites the dust

The lighting is bad at the library, I look oddly gothic:



At the MFA reading last night I got a shout-out. A grad student that I'm friends with thanked me over the microphone for coming. It was half weird, half delightful considering the vast majority of MFAers have no idea who I am.

I'm a greasy puppy unable to shower and at the library trying to do work [and failing]. In part this is due to the girl near by listening to LOUD Staind songs on repeat. Blech.

here's coming a better version of me

MY STAPLES ARE OUT! After two weeks of healing, I just got 20 staples removed from my head. The procedure took only about ten minutes and was pretty painful. (The staples that hurt the most going in, hurt the most coming out, go figure). The doctor that saw me made me do those wacky neurological tests that I had to do 5 times in the hospital. You basically shake your limbs, stick out your tongue and jiggle about. Not so much different from my normal behavior. I had a wonderful rotund, dread-locked aging nurse take them out for me. She had a Southern accent and kept calling me baby. It was sweet. I held onto Kristie's hand. Was in pain for a while. My head bled slightly. Now it feels very tender and I'm not allowed to shower for a while. The nurse said my hair was kind of tangled but that she wanted me to "dread it up". I'm now sitting in the library looking at a jar of staples that I never actually got to see in me. I'm going to celebrate tonight via Sharon and poetry reading.

In other news, my sister just cracked a tooth open with Kashi cereal and has to see an oral surgeon. We're all falling apart.

In other other news I had a flashback memory of getting stapled and remembered the doctor said to turn on the TV to distract me. It was a Mariah Carey video or something because all I remember was being face down getting my scalp stapled with Mariah Carey in the background. Vile.

So, in conclusion:

Kashi: 1
Tooth: 0

Mariah Carey: 0
World: 1

Katie: 1
Staples: 0

sleepyhead

I designed a chapbook for my creative writing class. here are the results:

I'd give you everything I got for a little peace of mind

This is how you look and feel during Spring in Amherst:


This is how you look and feel after sustaining a serious head injury, 2 inch cut skull deep in the scalp, 20 staples to close. The doctor's said I had an amazing brain after they looked at the CAT scan. I don't know how they can tell that or what that means.

Me after hospital:



My head wasn't the only thing hurt, this is a picture of one of my bruises, actually from an intimate area of my body but shh:


I'm rockin the head scarf currently.




Today I've felt the best yet, but still dealing with it. And I'm also a greasy rat. The body is an extraordinary machine.