Chiseling up.

“Be like concrete,
Chisel up”


I was arranging magnets on a friend’s refrigerator a few weeks ago, and that’s the phrase I came up with. I’m not even sure what it means, but it’s been sitting there in my attic for a while now, collecting dust, and I’ve been trying and failing to assign and derive meaning from it ever since I constructed the sentence. 

Chisel up. 
Chisel up.
Chisel what?

Trim the fat?
Abort the bullshit?
Sever your loses?
Stop being so sentimental and trying to find beauty and poetry in nonsensical refrigerator magnet prose?
Perhaps. 



Regardless, it sounds proactive. 

(Remind me to take some of my own advice sometime.)



Speaking of productivity, 
I haven’t been writing 
Or painting 
Or composing 
Or worrying about my health.
Or tackling any of my new year resolutions. 

Instead
I’ve been nesting:

I’m building and weaving a large bird’s nest 
Then I’m going to make two human hearts out of plaster
& put them in it.
And it’s going to be a lovely metaphor for love
And it won’t be cathartic at all
And then I’m going to go home and cry and be bitter.




“and if I had an offer to be better, I’d decline”







There’s a fine line between expressing and obsessing.
I think I might be crossing it.
Though, 
If there’s one thing I’m really, very good at, it’s dwelling. 


Or maybe I should just


Chisel chisel chisel chisel chisel. 







Up.








I’m trying. 

I’ll get there. 

I promise. 












Is it spring yet? I’m frozen. 
And I’d like to thaw. 



















I ate birthday cake last night. 
It was chocolate and delicious. 
One of my friends was celebrating her birthday, and I almost missed her blowing out the candles:

“where’s zach?”
“he’s peeing”
“Well, I’m not blowing these motherfuckin candles out without him”








It’s nice to feel valued.