January 15th, 2019

[tarkovskiy] hari bleeding

he pauses at the city's edge

shots outside, then helicopters. multiple shots. a full round, maybe. no idea what went down. so often there's no closure on these matters. neighborhood listservs more agonizing than helpful, the police scanner archive only grants free access until the moment i remember the resource, news? news. gunshots in the baltimore city limits? i guess the involvement of helicopters might increase the chances of someone reporting on it eventually.

i asked ben: do you think that was gunfire? the question is pointless. relative to this specific matter, suspicion does not exist. it is the rare urban binary: if you think you heard shots, you heard shots. something inside you knows and knows instantly. like an earthquake, like certain phone calls. however, the incredibly loud HVAC was running and ben was in a different part of the apartment when it happened. he heard something, he was pretty sure he heard something, but thought it was probably someone breaking up snow on a resonant surface. could be. we just got a bunch of snow. maybe it was more that he didn't want to hear shots. i didn't want to hear shots either, so i went into denial of the urban binary. i nodded and tried not to think about it. then we heard the helicopters. i looked at ben and ben looked back at me and took my hand. it is what it is.

a few minutes later, j.j. texted ben asking if he'd heard the shots, if he knew anything more about it; it said on the neighborhood listserv she follows that it happened in our general vicinity. so often there's no closure on these matters.

i wonder if that has anything to do with this nausea flare.

goddamn nausea flare.

water does seem to be helping. water and writing shit out.

you'd think i'd learn and maybe i am learning, but the process is slow and there are obstacles, matters i'm not sure what to do with. such as: this misalignment with my body and how it yet ravages my will to text. such as: my ongoing drama of identifiers, the spiritual crisis i'm soaking in, the bloodwork order i keep "forgetting" to schedule. my hands are chapped. my lower lip is worse. maybe now i'm stable enough to try for sleep? it is what it is.

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