i know my own personal trance state very well it comes up when i have been with people for too long. then i just hear my own thoughts rattling about. i could have driven to iowa city. i should drive to iowa city to see heidi. soon alice will be in iowa at the writer’s workshop. she left me a very sweet voicemail. i want to leave very sweet voicemails. i want to be an unending source of good feedback for people. a little girl in a pink puffer vest is pushing a pink pike across the street from the trailer park across the street from where i am parked. i like letting the world in. but this morning i couldn’t let my neighborhood in because i am scared of it. in lincoln, on trance days, i would just start walking a direction & investigate all of the alleyways. i always knew where they’d go. in the end it was familiar. i liked driving to council bluffs in a trance because i had no idea where i’d end up. i had no idea that there was a big golden spike monument set off in a weird field by the train tracks and trailer park. i like how i had no idea that these train tracks were operational. one thing that sucks is when i get into a trance state one of my first impulses is to find a place to consume something. i was thinking about going to la buvette. glad i didn’t. i can feel the sun through the clouds. i am excited to someday live in oregon.
this is a stream of consciousness. who decides what a poem is? maranda said “what even is a poem?” and i made a picture of myself making a weird face with those words superimposed across it. i think a lot of poets get much more vulnerable than i do with their writing. i am pretty self-conscious about what i bring to wg. i bet everyone is though. the golden spike monument is nonsensical to me. it feels surreal. maybe a surrealist artist was commissioned to do something in CB because of their primo art funding and this is it. if so, i am part of their piece. Ryan Trecartin said “my body is a community.” this makes me think of all the projects i have participated in just by being there.
drove around some more and found a bathroom. got 40 $ out to pay for things generally. i am sitting on this really massive hill right now which is called “overlook point.” oh look someone just got here with her two dogs. i waved at her. it is windy and the bare trees catch the wind and all of it roars. i can vaguely see signs of industry past the shelter of trees. i think this is the tallest point is CB/Omaha. but there are trees blocking every direction so you still can’t really see. i walked to the end of the tongue of grass on this hill and there were picnic tables. one of which had been partially burned. the tables were covered in sharpie and stoner scrawl and maybe gang stuff. it was depressing because of the burned part. people come here to get high and burn things. people come here to burn here. this lady comes to walk her dogs. i bet that is their shit, all of their shit. i wonder if she ever thought of cleaning it up. everyone i see today seems threatening except kids, and the pink coat dog lady.
i am less cold on this hill than i was on the bench at golden spike monument. i keep getting worried that someone is going to just smash up my car. down by the burned picnic table i imagined a bunch of gang members emerging and fucking with me. i never used to think this way. there is a paper mc donalds bag blowing around in front of me. i feel defenseless. i feel unreal. my trance day started with feeling unreal. the internet doesn’t have a time frame. i want to get out of this mood before poetry club. i really like alisa. it is funny to keep think that i am writing to someone. i am not. but i keep thinking that i am. nobody would want to read this because i am putting no effort into it at all. earlier i was trying to imagine what i want.