I had to stop reading Notley. Remember when I said the trance stuff she said about process didn't really interest me? (probably not but I wrote it in this blog) That's still true but when I went back and read the most trance-inducing work (Alette & Closer), which I realize is different than work written in a trace state, I couldn't finish either of them. They turned me into a medium. Everything shifted brainward, turning very dark. Every night my grandparents visited me in dreams so they could dance because apparently they can't dance except in a live-in-person person's dreams. Our visits were too intense so after three nights in a row I had to stop reading the poems. It was too draining to read them and slip into that rhythm that crosses between worlds which then slipped me into that rhythm that crosses between worlds. I'm very susceptible to poetry right now. I think. Now I'm still dreaming about morphing things and people, which in dreams isn't so strange, except it's more like poltergeists and murder. Lots of sharp objects and blood and really cold fear. Nothing saves you except the fact that you're watching and doing at once. I can't cry in my sleep any more--it's too exhausting. No more Alice (for now). She fucks too much with my head.