I woke from a dream of venomous grass choking on phlegm.

Relieved myself twice, wrote a poem in my head, then forgot it. Lilo has made her way back in my bed now that the spider count in the cabin is rising. 

I’m going to have to do something about it. They are massive. Talcum powder is the latest spider remedy a lady shared with me. Last year I collected horse chestnuts and hung them around the yurt and it seemed to do something. Perhaps it just got too cold for them to hang around. I hate to annihilate the Anansi, but I have to constantly pull them out of my hair lately and that’s taking the witch metaphor too far. 

My bedroom in Virginia had massive dust covered webs at each corner…it was the time I was going through my “Morticia Adams” phase. It was all fun and games until the brown recluses moved in.

It’s not like I can sleep past 2 lately. A restless mind that won’t stand still, won’t allow itself to, really. The place between my legs is throbbing. So is my back and most of my midsection. I recognize the ache of a sore body after a summer’s worth of hard work but I don’t remember it ever hurting like this. And perhaps this is part of my grand denial, but I’m staring at a number of doctor’s appointments, scheduled poke and prod sessions and I’m just not interested. 

I don’t know if they can do anything for me. 

I’m just trying to wrap my mind around regaining control of myself. I know I’m going to be fine. I know it’s going to hurt, but it’s like slicing an extra appendage off with a meat cleaver. It doesn’t fit the plan…It is cumbersome and it needs to go.

Too bad I need the damn thing to live. 

But I am finding life as an emotionless robot has its advantages. On top of a complete disregard to physical pain, I just have a general attraction to complication and misery. Explains the ex and the propensity for being the other woman, in whatever forms you want to appropriate to the word ‘other’.  I don’t feel much as of late. I haven’t, until this last moon.

I’m watching the sky lighten through a haze of smoke. A part-woman, outside woman, the crazy witch living in the forest! I finally realized my wish. Not doing crazy shit I have no business doing! That was the lesson I learned from Casanova. 

I’ve changed. Everything has. I’ve not been with him since, and I thought I was settling for a long stretch of spinsterhood, but that did not happen. Tripped and felled into another mental quandary. And as usual, preparing for the worst outcome, I’m mulling to you, oh great Laptop! My lament is great! Hear my whine! 

It’s funny, the last time I spoke to the previous Gemini I was entangled with (because at this point, it’s a life trend, starting with a boy I grew up with in Africa, My ex-husband, Casanova, and now, this ‘swash-buckling’ dandy ) via email, months ago he mentioned something about making love near a body of water. And the image was in my head for weeks. And I always thought it would be incredibly awkward and over really quickly. 

I always felt like this man was off limit. I do feel that way with most men, obviously. Now I feel I might have to work on not jumping him. It confuses me. I know that he had his own designs and he had the same hungry look I’ve seen in men’s eyes for…far too long. I did too. I’ve wanted to bite into that butt for a long, long time. Didn’t expect to actually do it, but it seems my subconscious had designs of its own. 

The tension between my ‘band-mate’ and I is partly responsible for the reason why I lost my head and allowed that cad to unzip my shorts.  I bled that night, Lilo was freaking out, which she does every time I am with a man the night before, I’m fucking angry and overwhelmed … then the icing on the strange day cake, Toe-Shoe shows up! I’m over my crush by now so I finally get to look at this man through disgust-tinted goggles and felt pretty gross. I noticed a huge difference from the first time I saw him. So knowing the nature of desire is fleeting, why do I constantly have to wrestle with attachment? I’m attached to my own fantasies, I’m ‘projecting the past onto the future’, and I smell a rat. I’m not sure what it is though: Am I afraid of getting close to someone? Am I feeling the drag of low self-esteem? Am I just crazy? Cause that one works too. I'm not too idealistic when it comes to this kind of stuff anymore, I'm afraid.

I like passion. It’s raw, it’s painful and it feels so good. It’s there then it’s gone. I’ve gone through a few and hope I don’t have to go through more, just the right one. I say and know these things but still feel an infinite amount of sadness when I start getting involved with someone because it’s always so horrible. Because I make such shitty choices. 

Like all robots I dream of owning a heart. Not sure if I want it on a spit-fork in a metal chest cavity. Which is what mine feels like. I'm not sure where to flounder off to next. I know what I don't want though. That's a good start.

There's a pile of medical stuff I have to sort through. That's the start.