deracinated. that's always been an odd word to me. it sounds like erased, and race, and ate, and hated. 
my tooth came out while i was flossing. it feels better now. that was a lucky persimmon. 

 my little rootie tootie.




*that's how you establish an international dictatorial regime. countries are occupied, people are killed, we cannot say anything. it's a state secret. 




for some reason, i'm reading pond, she's talking about castaway items in storage she's retrieved and i think back to the horse farmhouse outside guelph where i went up to the girl upstairs' apartment and saw all her objects sitting along the fire-blackened walls and the air still redolent with an acrid tang that with the objects and her withdrawn aura let me into an autohypnosis that was dreamlike and that prevented me from speaking. and i'm thinking, why did she invite me? was she just being nice? why did she not embrace me, when i felt her presence so keen in the objects settled there after the fire?