Have been writing at poetry readings either a keepsake momento, poetry notes, or a textual bootleg... At the Dunagan, Morris, Grabowski reading last week, in my notes all three made references to either teleportaion, telepathy or ghosts. It's all in my notes! I want to say so new college, but only one of them went to new college. But so our group, someone name us.

Went to another acupuncture on Thursday, it is funny because I am not totally aware that it is a bad area,it seems ok, but working class, but I am so the only white chick on the bus and the only reason I notice is because everyone is looking at me oddly, not badly, but curiously. By Fruitvale something or other. I think the acupuncture hurts me because I am in so much pain in general it just hurts no matter what. There was one spot to the side of my shin, it felt like it was hitting a nerve or something, stinging. I should have told her so she could adjust it but that seemed to entail a lot of energy that I didn't have. After a while it went away so I think it was a chi thing. But even now when I touch that spot and massage it I feel it in my feet, and I've been feeling random weird sensations in my shins area, something is going on. I guess it's good. I told her the last time after the acupuncture I was wiped out I napped twice that day and was so lethargic all week, so she said she had a feeling it wouldn't be that way this time, but that acupuncture takes away the energy style you put over your real energy style (not verbatim) and your real energy or the energy your supposed to be comes in to effect. So apparently I'm supposed to have the energy of a tree stump. That actually sort of rings true, because sitting in like a 6 hour meditation for me seems so so doable. Some people could never sit still that long, but I feel like no problem (except for peeing). But I don't know how to have that kind of lifestyle and also pay rent. Fantasizing about quitting my job and sleeping in the park for 3 months straight. (Not really, bosses who are reading this, I LOVE my job! Really I don't think there is anyone more qualified to interpret IRS language than someone who has studied obscure language poetry.)

Last night my gmail got hacked, sorry people who I haven't talked to in years that don't want to hear from me, then all my electricity went out - I had the IPOD playing, the heater on, and the microwave, and then I couldn't find the fuse box. So after eating dinner in the dark, I called the landlord, and texted him, and he called me back at 10PM on a Friday night, so 5 stars on yelp for that! Then I found it and kept flipping it but nothing happened. So he said he'll have someone come out in the morning. So what else to do but go to sleep. So I put my headphones in and IPODed for a while and slept. Then he calls at 8:46 am to ask if it is still not working and so i go out barefoot and crazy haired and it is still not working. He says he can't get a hold of the contractor and is stuck in the city but will come by later but he is not sure what time. So OK. I go back to sleep and have a weird memory/dream of having to hit the reset button first, a childhood memory when I used to have to fix the braker, breaker? So I go back out there and there is another switch that is on the off position. So I flip it and everything comes on, magic. Then there is a burning smell. But it is ok. Just the heater flipped out I think. And magically the hall light that I thought had been burned out for months that I just ignore, is now on. Weird. Why do I write out strange narratives like this, I think it is metaphoric of my exhaustion somehow. I need to find the braker switch on my body.

Then because I hadn't wanted to shower in darkness, I'd decided to come to the city all dirty to go do yoga at Crunch, and then shower there where they have light. So even though the light was now on, I stuck with my plan. Everyone was smiling at me and it took me a while to realize I look like I'd come from a one night stand in last night clothes or something, greasy hair, with a frizzed out tuft sticking up in the back...

An Oakland vs Mission story:

Walking home on Telegraph last night and this guy says hi so I say hi, then he says Bitch, then he says it over and over again with different variations. Ok. I don't understand. Should I be a bitch and then he will think I'm nice? Or he just wanted to call me a bitch from the beginning and there is nothing I could do to change his mind.

Came out of BART 24th St station, and this guy says you should smile more often, like he is aware of how I do not often smile, so of course I smile, I can't help it, and then we have a chatty friendly conversation.

Although there is now a bike argument in the cafe. Arguing because he is a regular and dude has never said it to him before. No bikes in the cafe. On weekends. But weekdays are ok. I love this cafe because it is incredibly spacious and I can always get a seat, but the owners are a little uptight and unfriendly.

I think/hope writing on my laptop for hours in a Mission cafe is as restful as sleeping and napping all day. Maybe more so, going to finish (maybe) up my Delueze-Guattarian new age-music poems. I think maybe writing might be the only thing to give me an energy...