rename

something about world building

hey, i talked to my neighbor mom

and i was right
they are from the former yugoslavia
her husband is serbian
and she is croatian
they lived in germany
before
coming here
she is super nice
which i knew already, sort of
but
she really is
she was smoking kinda huddled in the carport
she said she thought djokovic might loose
and she couldn't watch

very strange dreams

we were
not teenagers
but young twenties
and you were on a reality show
and I was worried
because you seemed to be constantly
with this girl, butterfly
I was afraid
that you were falling for her
but then
I thought I understood
what was going on
and then I wasn't worried
but
everything I said to you
sounded really bad
no matter what I meant to say
and then
I was afraid you'd leave me
for being a super bitch
there was more
but I can't remember it

do you want more

i wonder, sometimes
if
you specifically like it to be sexual
or
if it's the inside of my head
that is the appeal

niche

i have had fantasy imaginings of this bed
at least since i saw jefferson in paris
i've been looking for a picture
and i must have altered it in my head
the only jeffersonian alcove bed i can find
is all square
nice
but
not my fantasy

my fantasy bed is a curved arch
tall enough to sit up
but not any taller

part of the point
is to be
closed in
like the ceiling is the roof of a little den
or cave
or nest
what-have-you
then the sides are open
into two different rooms maybe

actually
in the fantasy
the bed is maybe built in to the arch

i could see us
tucked into our little niche
cozy

you were thinking about me earlier

I'll try to be a little more exciting tonight

i dreamed

about
this apartment
I was al ready living in the complex
when it became available
and I was checking it out
it had an outdoor kitchen
which, when I thought better of it
was maybe not such a good idea
maybe everyone would eat your food
and use your stuff
though
it was like the ultimate party space
the apartment was upstairs
it was set up like a studio
with the bed in the middle of the room
across from the big screen tv
but it was billed as a one bedroom
the bedroom
could just fit a king sized bed
or it could be a big walk in closet
I think this is super cosy
I said to whoever I was talking to
but then where do I store my clothes
maybe this apartment wasn't right for me
but
it was definitely cool

i love you

this is probably just a bunch of random stuff

ok
so, first off, i want this
i have no particular reason to think
that it's a great knife
or that it is something that they've done more that twice
but look at it
it's so beautiful

the small spanish knife also cuts bagels very well
it's too big to be a good paring knife for me though

for paring i use a small forever sharp
which was on a shamefully but wait, now how much would you pay
kind of promotion at sam's warehouse
like a thousand years ago
it is tiny
and it works for me
[they work for me, i actually have two]
i pretty much never use those peeler things
i just use the paring knife
and maybe it's not a good one
but i feel like i have control over it
i'm never worried that i'm going to cut myself

the new knife is a little fancy
but the rubberized handle is a good thing

oh
and i should show you the deba i've been using

future decor

i dreamed two things that i can remember

the first part
we were old
like grandparents of many
and you were rearranging things
the pancake assembly machine
can go here
and another machine
something really cool
something quantum, maybe
something i think i had invented
but, i can't remember what it did
that can go over there
then
i think you were telling the grandkids
what it was like before we had those things
and
all about how i invented the one


the next one
i was working on a schematic
[do you know what that is]
i was setting merchandise according to a planned arrangement
all these people
who i knew in the dream
and seemed to be really impressed
that they had taken their time to come give feedback
until
this one who was kinda hot
started telling me
he had grave reservations with the way
i had designed this section here
and i'm like:
wait, i didn't design any of this
i'm just following a schematic
and then, suddenly
i wasn't in a store anymore
i was in a competition
or a reality show
or a graduate program
and the section he hadn't liked was my entry
but
i guess either the judges thought i did ok
or they took pity on me for not knowing the rules
because
it was only the other two
who went to grad jail
this virtual cage in the middle of the room

the guy candidate got a critique
and they thought his chaise
and empty champagne bottle
mostly empty caviar pots
told a story
so he was virtually manipulated visually
to look like he was busting out of jail
i was a little confused

and
i almost forgot
right before i woke up
i dreamed my mom was driving me somewhere
there was a big crack in the windshield
but she was ignoring that
and kept looking at something on the side window
please please please look at the road
we'll get all this figured out
but we have to live through this drive first
she just got mad and drove faster

this reminds me
one time my dad picked me up for a visit
after i went to live with my mom
i was about 12 or 13
and
he was drunk
he was driving in such a frightening manner
that i just closed my eyes
because i didn't want to see the crash coming
i was sure there would be one
and i wondered if i would be badly injured
but then
we got stopped by a cop
he looked at my dad's driver's license
saw it was his birthday
looked at me
and said:
ma'am, i'm gonna need you to drive him home
i can't do that, i said
and why NOT
i'm only 12, i don't know how to drive
OH, he says
well sir, he turns back to my dad
i need your word that you are going straight home
ABSOLUTELY, my father lies through his teeth
and the cop lets us go
he let us go
i thought i was safe for a minute
but
i do think we went somewhere where they served coffee

yeah
good times
sorry
not trying to freak you out

i fell asleep on the sofa

my neck is all cricked up
owww-y

i got my knife
i chopped up a bunch of cabbage
a head of cabbage
it works great for what i needhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
that's where i fell asleep typing, no lie
i'm pretty tired

i love you, a bunch
and
i'm really enjoying the cereal
and
please take good care of yourself

i'm going to sleep in the bed
i'm imagining you there
sleep tight

so i ordered that knife

i ordered the chinese chef knife
i'm not sure that was the best choice
but that's what i decided to do
it might have been better to buy a cheap cleaver
try it out
before
spending the money on a good one
but
i figure
i know what i need
and this seems like it

i like the weight of the deba
i actively dislike the lightness of the santoku
which i thought was a vegetable chopper when i bought it
but that's a nakiri
a santoku is a japanese chef knife
but i don't think the nakiri is any heavier

the deba is really meant for butchering fish
but
like i said
i like the heft of it
and it's fine for general chopping
but it's a thick blade
more like a wedge

the santoku
in it's lightness, feels dangerous to me
like i have less control of it
and i have no reason to believe a nakiri would be any different there

this cleaver is about a half a pound
and it's a thin blade
so, i'm thinking it'll do the job
plus be comfortable for me
they say oh it's great to use it to transfer chopped things
which i didn't realize was unusual because i've been doing that with the deba
so it seems ideal

i have a sharp little spanish knife ordered from this woman
she's got great stuff
i couldn't help myself
and this little knife is carbon [which is an experience in itself]
and very unfancy
and i use it mostly to cut mushrooms
it's perfect for that

in all likelihood this won't make sense

i want something to mean, something
when it could just as easily mean it's opposite
and i know that
so
my mind runs around in circles
and even though i'm not like stressing about it
the whole weird mood of the slight sickness
or over-fatigue, whichever
is making me
not
how i want to be
just when i feel like i am really in a groove
something kinda bumps me out of it

i think i just spent 3 hours researching knives

i need to be sleeping
and i don't have a desperate need for a new knife
just a long term want
and my mom just bought me a birthday present
so
i'm feelin like i'm livin large
i want the knife

but really what i want
is not to write you about the amber haired woman poems
that chad condon wrote perhaps to me, in high school
because it's baggage, ya know
and i can use his name because he's changed it
though
i looked him up
and he's super old now
isn't that funny
he looks bad though

i think i'm pretty lucky
i mean
i don't look like i did when i was young
but
i don't think i look too bad
probably i look worse in random, unposed shots
but
heck i was just lookin at him on facebook
and he looks like uncle fester


i asked this girl at work
because i'm always trying not to be the oldest
her hair is gray
and you can see her scalp through a lot of her hair
so i thought she would, for sure, be older than me
but
she said she's near my age, but younger

i shouldn't think about that stuff so much
but
it freaks me out

i feel like i'm fixating on unimportant things
and that is a bad sign
of avoidance, possibly

and
i just want, really, to give you what you want, right now
and i feel like i'm not doing a good job of that

but
that's not because i don't love you
it's because i'm super lame

and now i'm gonna buy a knife
either this one
or this one

i have a deba that i use for everything, even though i have other knives
because i just like the feel of it
but it's cheap and oldish
and could stand upgrading
but
it isn't really good for onion and cabbage and butternut squash [etc]
and i hate and pretty much won't use
the knife i have for hard vegetables
so
i could really use the cleaver [chinese chef knife] too

maybe i should buy them both
but that seems
like livin a little too large

i am really
feeling weird
i hope you are healthy
i love you

further adventures of yrain

after the twister, which had knocked her out, she woke up on the ground.  more specifically beside a lake.  the lake was beautiful, but it didn't seem to be in the farmlands anymore.

i guess we must have really covered some ground

where was she, she wondered.

yrain looked at her reflection in the water.  her hair had become a crown of leaves and feathers, seedpods and glittering debris.  she liked the effect.  from some angles she looked like an earth mother goddess, but then from other angles she seemed like titania the fairy queen.

what did he see when he looked at her, she wondered.

she wondered a lot.

dreams

i dreamed
about
stacks of wine
and
some
brilliant idea that i had to give kids a tree to decorate

there was something about driving fast as well, i think

before i went to bed
i kept getting this desire
to write to you about meeting at the campfire
but then there was a bunch of cowboy stuff too
and probably i should write a story about it
but it isn't that well formed
and besides
i need to get it down

i was dressed in those big woolly chaps
and
somehow it was almost like a scene out of blazing saddles
the idea
that i was a girl
but i was dressed like a boy
which isn't unusual or funny in any way
except those big woolly chaps
somehow

maybe you know what i'm wondering

the cave is misty
behind the waterfall
the walls are painted wildly
in bright bright swirls of chalk
the chalk fills abalone along the floor
and there are little candles stuck into the rocks of the walls
we paint each other
the chalk is cool and smooth
dry, almost
and with wildness in our spirits
we begin the dance
a rite of springing

amazing dreams

about
ghostly messages
and
seafood potato bisque
well, really it was a soup-a-thon
but that was the tastiest

there was something just before i woke up
but now i can't remember

it has been a weird day

i was feeling all day
like maybe i was getting sick
i don't know
maybe it's just fatigue
but
maybe not

there's something about
the cave grotto
behind the waterfall

think about that
i'm washing my face and going to bed
hopefully
to wake up
back to myself
not sick

i love you

i don't know why i'm writing this. i had planned to continue with yrain. but this is what's coming out.

i've never lived in a small town
i don't think i'd like it

i remember when i was a kid
my mom
when she was laying groundwork to sue for custody
bought a house in like a family neighborhood
and i remember when we were taking stuff in
the people from the neighborhood
kept trying to look at us
and our stuff

and
whatever
like

to get a sense of who we were and like
they had some right to know anything about us

and
i had lived i a neighborhood like that when i was little
with my grandmother
we knew the people in the neighborhood

but
i hadn't lived like that in years
and the giant apartment complexes don't operate that way

i didn't like it

and even now
i only know my immediate next door neighbors
not their names
i just have talked to the mom, briefly
because we park next to each other and share a stoop
she has a very friendly small dog
who, sadly, has now reached the instinctual age of protecting
and barks through the window at me
when he's not with his mommy

i think they might be bosnian or serbian
but i'm not really sure
i can't really place the accent

you've lived in small towns and big towns and i'm wondering how you did it
i guess there is the consolation of the landscape
that's what always draws me to small towns
but
i really don't know how i'd handle it

when i was in high school
i had a friend sandra hernandez who was from new york
and she was always complaining about how little there was to do
and i'm like:
there's more to do here than you have time to actually do
so i don't see the problem

my old district manager moved here from new orleans
and he said the hardest part
the hardest part
was that the bars closed at 2am

but
i could see myself in their shoes
because when i go other places
those are exactly the kinds of complaints i have

not bars
but all night coffee shops
grocery stores
pharmacies
convenience stores
stuff like that

and, maybe, if i ever lived anywhere bigger
i'd be happier with the increase of such amenities

but the people are a problem there too

i love the anonymity
i love the stuff
i hate the traffic and the parking
and i feel oppressed by the--  i'm not sure what to call it
psychic noise

i guess
i always thought i'd find a happy medium somewhere
pollyanna
or else
just live out on the wilderness
off the grid
i don't know if i could really do that
it's just always something i wanted to do
what does that mean about me that i have always wanted that

well, that, along with a whole bunch of incompatible stuff
actress, singer, dancer, artist
and then whatever the hell it is i've actually been doing

it's only compatible
with
writing
in the list of things
that maybe i'm supposed to be doing with my life

i guess i feel out of sorts from shift change
i thought i'd be normal today
but
i guess it's more likely to be tomorrow


in the mean time
i love you


i'm falling asleep
i'm going to bed

i dreamed you did this concept art book

you wrote hundreds of these little four line
they almost felt like limericks
for people
though some were not so much for
like Mrs Soandso from calamazoo
but
inspired by
the line at the 4pm showing of men in black XII in red deer

then
also
there were the photographs
of boiled river rocks
and
a few
of you boiling them
all, of course, in what appeared to be
black and white
but was really
a filter
so everything was seal point
all very cool

I love you

i was going to write something

but
i was super busy
and like in the zone working today
that
i got nothin
and
i gotta sleep fast
and i'll have to at least take a nap tomorrow
so
i'm not sure how happy i'm making you
but
i'm not missing that one thing

i love you

gave me back cramps

wanted to be sure
bigger wasn't on the way
but then
fell instantly asleep
woke up now to pee
was dreaming about salesmen
homeless man shouting
trying to shoot up
very strange
i didn't mean to be cryptic or alarming
i love you
i guess i know why the magician is your card

last too big

reap the worldwind .... continued

yrain was a little startled when the straw man walked in and leaned against the table.  she'd heard someone coming.  that wasn't it.  it wasn't even so much that he was made of straw.  it was anatomical, her disquiet.  he leaned against the table with what could possibly have been a leer, or not, it was hard without facial features.  the leer seemed implied by the thrust of his hips and the enormity of his twisted junk.

no offense, nice of you to offer, but you look painful.  i don't like to be hurt.

straw man shrugged, turned, and walked out the way he had come.

why did i even leave the cabin?

but then--  he was here.  the golden wheat lay flat this way and that.  an enormous whooshing sound and then stillness.  you had to know he was there he couldn't be seen but she recognized the feel of him.  the electric spasmodic rapture he uncoiled in her.  he pushed her gently onto the table and warmed her clam with something, mouth, hand, she couldn't tell, didn't care.  he brushed his hand along her spine unhinging the kundalini snakes until they writhed and spun through the cosmos of her body.  she felt him plunge into her not just at the coital juncture but through her entire body--  perhaps he would wear her as a glove an overcoat.

her mind began to form the design.  eyes open.  eyes shut.  didn't matter.  something like a flower constructed of beetle shells clicking ever inward, aperture of bliss.

but then they were spinning.  he was holding her tightly, so tightly she was very nearly insensible, and then whoosh.  she spun up into the the twister he had become.





borges on youtube
part 1
part 2

gotta say

i don't know how you do that
but
you are a-maze-zing

i love you
and don't worry about
the weird schedule

i'll be back later

reap the worldwind

yrain sat at the kitchen table looking out at the snow.  it was light and soft and ethereal.

as if finally deciding something after long deliberation she stood up and walked to the door.  she pushed the door;  she pulled the door;  it opened in.  outside a a brightly golden wheat field--  snow still visible in the windows.

she stepped outside.  the air was warm and she had to squint her eyes to see anything.  what she saw was a path through the wheat.  she wasn't sure where this was taking her, but she followed the path which wounds in out and around, like an old school labyrinth.

om mani padme hum
yrain whispered under her breath, through her breath, through the field, round and round until she rounded a corner and there it was.  there was a table with a chess board.

i never learned to play chess
a bunch of black birds swooped down and carried them away.


tune in tomorrow to find out weather

i have to get ready for bed






in progress

not feeling super awake

what does he want to hear about

clarify

i want to spend a month holed up in a cabin with you

is that true

maybe

but even if that happens someday
it can't happen right now

i tell ya
i wouldn't mind a month in a cabin
alone

i don't feel like i ever recovered from xmas
although my back has been fine for a long time
i forgot to mention

it took longer than i thought to get back to full strength

i have no interest in going to this meeting
i may go to brunch after
i think i need to be asleep by like five
have to get up at one thirty

not enthusiastic about any of that either
i just want you
if i could just spend the day in bed with you
even if we just slept
that would be awesome

i've been having an obsessive craving for donuts
which there is a high probability of there being at the meeting
so there's that

ok, i'm up

almost an hour after I meant to be
and the word zombie definitely comes to mind

i am working weird hours again

i was supposed to start my time shift this morning, but i couldn't wake up
i have a store meeting in the morning
so, hopefully
i'll get up really really early
and be able to spend some times writing in the morning
and, hopefully
all the different ideas i have pulling me
will have congealed into something good
or
maybe i'll use the synchronicity model i've been using

was it borges who said the tarot is a tool for writing stories
i think it was
have i read any borges
i think that i have
but i can't remember what
maybe it wasn't his stories
maybe it was an article or interview


anyway
maybe you like it
the tarot thing

i feel like my brain is full
uncomfortably full
and
i have to focus and edit


i want to metaphor-ize something
hands in the air
eyes locked
there is something
something that that tells me

and
maybe i invent things
and maybe it's okay if i do
but
i feel like my processing speed isn't fast enough anymore
like i'm spending a lot of time on analysis
and not enough time on production


i feel like i'm babbling 


anyway
different work shifts
so you might not see me when you expect to
and i might be a little wonky until thurs afternoon
but i'm here
and i love you


i hope you visit me in dreamland tonight, if you can
i think you were with me all night last night
but i can't remember my dreams

i'm going to bed in about a half an hour
[super early]
and sleeping about six hours
that might all be before you go to sleep

weird

i just washed my face with my new salt soap

i'm going to bed in a minute
sangre de toro

busy day

working
then going to dinner with my mom
but
I'm kinda stoked
because
I kinda have a fan club
I got grown men bringing their friends
on field trips
to see my beer selection
and
calling me to check on obscure stuff
and telling me that they tell all their friend
and
telling me that they have to stop in
every week
to
check what I got new

I kinda like having fans
isn't that weird

the golden tarot

i've been getting this card
from the golden tarot which is coming to be my favorite these days
it's weird how they cycle through
and what that says about you [meaning me, see]
it reminds me of high school art history

and the greek festival

going on the chapel tour to see the icons
but the priest was really cool
he explained about communion being made with real bread, baked by the congregants
i picture the women (i'm assuming mostly) and their range of possible
what am i trying to say here
motivations

the bread is cut into small cubes
or perhaps torn into small pieces, i find i'm not sure
put in a spoon with wine
to sop it up
join the flesh with the blood

those people
they know how to experience a transmogrification

isn't that unhygienic, someone asks

no one has ever gotten sick from experiencing the communion
[he probably didn't say the communion
he probably said the sacrament
but, truthfully, i don't remember the words

and
from art history class--  remembering the excitement of giotto
that point when they got again the concept of perspective

but this image
it's hard to explain, taps into klimt and the great wave off kanagawa


it;s my favorite card of the deck, possibly
is that too weird


i have these fragments--

the fantasy where we're on the half shell like botticelli
but, ya know, lying down
and the shell isn't empty
and i spend a bunch of time figuring out:

is it some oystery creature
or some finely wrought velvet cloth

gotta know that before i continue with the rolling around
feeling your weight on me
what's that like
how would you be

it don't often imagine that
that's dangerous ground

but i kinda wanna know
what are you like, with me

well, i'm not feeling you today

so either you're too busy
or i've been too busy
or
maybe i did something wrong

whichever

oh
wait
i do feel you now

hi

to tell the truth

that amusement park ride was really just a plot device to get us in the dark

i am, i have to admit, inappropriately handsy

i have to restrain myself

you've seen this

both the

impropriety

remember virginia

and that after the purple bra

and

the restraint

remember the awkward wrist bumping

truthfully, i can't find a balance, so i just wanted to get you in the dark

in a fantasy environment

where i'd describe how i wanted to touch you

i want to run my hand along your thigh

feel the muscle along the front of it

but

i want to feel your inner thigh too

squeeze your knee lightly and then run my hand up slowly

not all dainty fingers but like contact, ya know, i'm not trying to tickle you

but not too aggressive either

i have this ridiculous playing doctor fantasy

it doesn't really have visuals

it's just the concept, really

where we tell each other:

right here in the bend of my elbow

right here in the small of my back

grab me here

mapping erogenous zone

in a way i'm pretty sure people don't

or

we could spend a long weekend finding them all

i want to experience you

by inches

and, ya know, as a whole

i am not sure about quid pro quo

the idea of you staring at every bit on me is, to be honest, frightening

which seems like such a chick thing

but

there it is

i want to devour you with my eyes and hands and mouth

and i want you just to touch me

but really, touching like on some grand scale

we've got a lifetime deficit of touch to bring back into the green

well, i'm confused, but i think you are too

I don't think you had any idea what I was talking about
and since there's no way to tell you
without being way too explicit
I think the only thing to do
is let it go

I love you
you are amazing
and talented
and a much sweeter man than I would have given you credit for being when I first met you eleven years ago

I want to understand your motivations better
I want to understand you better
sometimes
I know that if I just knew everything that was going on
in your head
then things would make sense

maybe you feel that way too

you must be confused sometimes
about what the hell I'm talking about
I'm sorry
I try to make sense

i'm a little confused

i've been thinking that you are probably not real happy with me
maybe disapointed
maybe mad even

i didn't react right

but i've been feeling you
like you were happy with me

i don't understand

but just to clarify

not rejecting you

mal'akh

not sure i made any sense before
i was trying to say:
you are looking hot in a way that you haven't before
though you already were hot
and
you seem, good
confident
containing some quality, different
though you have seemed all of those things before
so
like you have some new mojo working
that's what i was trying to say

i'm intellectually glad that you love debbie heather
but
that's as far as i'm taking that statement


i'm not writing that story
it's benched

i should have known better

orchid

blame it on the diesel or blueberry or whatever
i've smoked and i wanna talk to you
i felt near and far today
i had a broad array of emotions

and
i'm afraid
i'm not really prepared to talk about them

what i am prepared to say:
you have this way you look, that's hot
but then
recently
you have this kinda new way
some new kinda mojo you're workin

what's up with that


i don't know why i titled this orchid
i just sot this very distinct feeling that that was the right thing

and jim jarmusch can direct

hey

i hope none of that seemed bad
or scary
or whatever
i am not trying to compare you to my father
i am trying to articulate
more of a psychological thing
that for sure exists
and
that i only partially see
but
also
i'm trying to do some other stuff
i love you
and
i am not quite asking you what you think of all this stuff
ok

jabber

i'm not sure how to bridge the pieces i want to connect in that story
so maybe if i talk about it
or just talk
maybe that'll help
but truthfully, i have so many things i want to talk about
not stories
just stuff that's been happening
or that i dreamed
that my brain is full
and i don't know
i can't focus


i wanted to kind of play with the multiple uses of tunnel
but not in an obvious way
and
i really wanted to have a tunnel of love ride in there
with you and i
i've never done that
but i've been on a tunnel boat ride at this old park in san antonio
i was a kid, and i'm sure i had a chaperone
but i figure i could extrapolate

but then
i kinda want to write about that park
and i just don't remember it clearly
there was a hall of mirrors
the whole thing was super dark and gothic-y

wow, apparently i'm not the only one who thought it was gothic-y
if this is the park
which i'm not 100% sure


but then that takes me even farther away from my actual topic
which has something to do with
father daughter relationships being
somehow unavoidably related to adult romantic relationships
and how what i had
with my father
somehow
connects
through time
to what i'm trying to have with you

and maybe what that is

have you seen this movie

my father told me he had an i.q. of like 145 or something
i have very specifically never had mine tested
i don't want to know
well, that's not quite the flavor of what i mean
i don't believe in standardized testing
and, really, what does all that mean anyway
but my father had stuff
that i grew up thinking was normal
that i've never found in anybody else

that ability to encapsulate a quality of experience into a phrase
that play of words
i have always done that
but it doesn't seem like too many people do

maybe i just don't hang around the right people
i do seem to have a knack for finding myself among the normals
possibly there is some break in me that causes this
some subliminal need for stability
somehow i think this has either helped or hurt us

but my father and my mother both
they, i was gonna say, weren't good parents, but maybe that's not fair
i can't really say what i would have done in their place
i just know what i think i woulda done
and the reason that i think i woulda done it is because
i was there watching it, seeing how their decisions affected me
which, of course, as a parent, you wouldn't have that advantage, perspective
unless your kid told you stuff like:
please don't scream at each other, it really upsets me
like, when my mom would come to pick me up for visits
they didn't even have to see each other
i could walk out the door when the bell rang
i could be home by 8:30pm
but no 
he had to see me out
and i'm not sure it was always him starting it
whatever was going on with them was the important thing

do i even want to be telling you stuff like that is that even important

it seems like it's important for you to know some of that
because you didn't come from that
you came from other stuff
and some of that you talk about, so i feel like i'm on firm ground here
but i've kind of told you this stuff before
so why do i need to do this now

is this just all about me

because i'm specifically trying to make this about us

or maybe, there's this tunnel that runs through time

tunnel of love

i remember, when i was maybe five, my father took debbie to some carnival.  might have been the rodeo, which is the big carnival round these parts.  might have been some small carnival.

anyway, he took debbie and he threw balls or rings or something and he won her a prize.  a small stuffed poodle.

the thing about my father, though, the way he was, he would be like:  watch this, it's all i ever do. He was the world reigning champion of ball throwing or ring tossing.  he would win the biggest brightest best prize.

which, if he did, well...

i just now realized why my father loved me so much.  i realized why he treated me like an ex-girlfriend more than a daughter out on the 10 one night after seeing you, but i just now realized why he loved me.  he would tell me he was the best and i believed it.  well, at first i guess i just didn't know any better, but then, even when i knew he was boasting, couldn't back it up, i was never like:  no you can't;  i was always like:  show me.

but if he was not victorious...

and in this case with the ball toss or the ring throw he was not exactly victorious but he did win something.  so it was funny.

And the lady wins, he said in perfect pitch carny.  pause for effect.  a small dog.



in progress...
but i think that's all for tonight.

falling asleep

i went to dinner with my mom
i came home
i sat down to write to you
i fell asleep
i just woke up two hours later

i'm not super coherent

i gotta go to bed

don't be unhappy
i don't mean to ignore you

i'm just
sleepy

my brain is so busy
i don't sleep enough

it's super lame

sorry

i love you

I'm writing something
but
it needs to percolate
just know
I love you bunches

sunday afternoon

the rainbow serpent snaked it's way across the walls and ceiling.

i wasn't that surprised.

when it entered the fireplace--  which was electric, and decorative, and, anyway, not a water hole--  i was somewhat more surprised;  but the real tension came with the wondering:  where would it pop up next.  i began to imagine it shooting up the chimney, arching through the sky, crashing back through the door, the roof.  would it want to do me harm?  it hadn't seemed dangerous on the walls, but, now that it was out of sight, it frightened me, a little.  was it come to tell me something, create something?  was it totally oblivious to me?

i'd never seen it before.

so, i'm watching the wall above the electric fire because i can picture the rainbow serpent doubling back, somehow, plunging out of the wall, headed right at me.  a large parrot flies by and distracts me.

when i look up the curving wall has become a waterfall.  the crashing water dissolves to mist as it hits the floor.

oh, i need to check my crock pot.

i go to the kitchen.  i stir my crock pot.  a small brown woman walks up to me.  she looks vaguely like that parrot with her beak-like nose and feather collar.

what is that you're making?

i'm not really sure yet, i start to say.  it's the national dish of my country, i tell her.  really it's not quite.  i am making a thick stew-like dish that i'm tempted to call a curry with kasha and fava beans.  the spices are garlic, turmeric, spanish smoked paprika, cumin seed, and fennel seed.  it has a vaguely porridge or gruel texture, which isn't quite right.  the fava beans are not breaking down as quickly as i expected.

suddenly, right there in the kitchen, i get a throb.  my interest has shifted.  now i want sex, now.

i walk back into the living room.  you are sprawled naked on a gratuitous stack of pillows on a flat rock near the base of the waterfall.  you are somewhat reclining against a stack of pillows, almost sitting up.  i guess i'm wearing what i'm wearing, minus the underwear i just pulled off, and by the time i get there i guess you are hard because i don't pay attention to any of that.  what i want, what i notice is mounting you.  feeling your cock against front inner wall of my snatch.  my head falls back.  don't move around a bunch, i say, we can do mystical mutual whatever in a minute, right now, right now i need to wickedly use your man parts for my dire need.

fine, you say, pulling my shirt over my head.

a flying fish jumps out of the water and attaches itself to my right nipple.  not to be outdone, you squeeze the left.

the fish thing is a little weird, you say.

just roll with it, i shoot back, slowing my pace and deliberately, rhythmically, squeezing you.

thanks fish, but you better move now or else you're likely to be crushed.

fish detaches, salutes with his wing fin, and jumps back into the water.

before you expect anything, i roll down onto your chest like a wave cresting the force of the oscillation washing into a kiss.  i've been concerned about the quality of kiss i can manage.  and i guess it might be our first, so it's important, but i shouldn't have worried.  it was gentle as foam in a tsunami.

i. love. you.   i say, as i feel the gate swing open.

i have to go grocery shopping, and to the pet store

I've been exhausted
not sure why
not sure what you'd like to hear
but
I'll write you something
when I get back from errands

I love you

i love you

i'm pretty tired, i'm going to bed

would you like to spoon

i was thinking about camping

i haven't been full on camping since i was much younger
i normally imagine us in a cabin or some such
but
last night
i was thinking about tent camping

i can build fire
[with a match, i'm not claiming i can do friction]
i can do campfire coffee
i've done bacon (which i no longer eat) and flapjacks
not sure how i'd be at something complicated
you don't get even heat, is the problem
but i feel confident
we'd be adequately fed, one way and another

i found
kilim rug underneath bedding to be a good idea
for a variety of reasons
and then we could do whatever kind of bedding we decide is best
i feel confident we could be reasonably comfortable

i haven't ever done the primitive camping
where you have to schlep your gear on your back for miles to the campsite
i'd be willing to
but maybe not as a first go, ya know
besides
i can't lie
i like plumbing, a lot

the main thing about camping, really, is the stars
well, and the fire
but
i was picturing us, really, i think it might have been joshua tree

the coolness of the night
the nearness of you
and
i could almost picture the lovemaking in the tent

but the part of camping that is really romantic
is that kind of zen difference in time and space
the endless moment
it doesn't matter what time it is
nothing
and everything
is happening, together

the brightness of the stars
the warmth and the crackle of the fire
the sound of the wind and the things that might not be the wind
the deep primal feeling

would we talk
would we just sit quietly together
would you hold my hand
would it be beautiful and natural
comfortable

don't get me wrong
i want your body and my body to conjoin

but
i want this other form of intimacy
which i don't really see as separate
maybe even more longingly
since the years of celibacy have ever so slightly dulled
the other throbbing ache

i love you

deeply

to be named later

i'm having this fantasy
a weird conglomeration of cravings

scent
a light persistent matcha incense

sensuality
i found today a mask
ghassoul and camel's milk

camel's milk's strange as snail mucin
but i think that's how i roll, sweetness

doing this mask ritual
dripping the mineral water
beautiful bowl
mixing
smearing
face
neck
chest

temple gate reflects in vanity mirror

mask still slightly damp
i feel you finger painting
changing sheets later

i hope that worked as a story for you

i had all these little elements
and
i think
that's how i think
but it's weird
and it usually doesn't seem like it quite works

i thought it worked this time

i got basically no sleep last night
and i'm going to sleep, soon

i'm not asking you to tell me you liked it
let me make that clear

i mostly just want to make sure
you don't take umbrage with anything

gray sky at dsw parking lot

the other day i had stopped in a dsw down the street from me.  it's a little sketchy down there--  i mean, it's fine just a little sketchy.  the very first one i ever went to was a little further down the street, then it moved, i found one in uptown and i never went back west.

truthfully i haven't been doing a lot of shoe shopping.

but my feet always hurt anymore.  and i stopped at the thai place and the petco and this was just next door.

i just went straight to clearance.  i found so many shoes, i had to edit.  i came away with three pair for right at a hundred dollars.

without going to much into it, the big winner was a pair of white dr. scholl's, which at seventy percent off came to about twelve bucks.

i had worn them today.  to work.  without breaking them in.  that's why i was in the dsw parking lot on a cold gray day, uptown this time, stopping between work and home to see if i could score another pair of these shoes.  maybe another color.

when i was younger i thought i needed arch supports.  the last couple years i've decided, the more the shoe is like not wearing a shoe, except that, ya know, my toes are protected and stuff, the better i like it.  and these are all swirled and rounded on the foot pad--  like a topographical map of the foot, in 3D.

i'd been a little leary of dr. scholl's.  would probably never have tried them if they hadn't been seventy percent off.  i'm not sure why not.  i used to wear dr. scholl's exercise sandals.  in fact, when i was a teenager i really only liked shoes that were wood soled.  clogs.  clogs were my biggest love.

actually, clogs were maybe my first love.

there were ked's and buster browns and little patent leather mary janes and they were all fine as far as that went but nothing ever really turned my head until the shiny red patent leather clogs.  i was wearing them, in fact that day, the day that kid tried to tease me.

i had just moved to a new school for the second half of first grade.  the school i had been in was what i think might have been a little progressive.  we changed rooms. had different classes.  and my reading teacher had long long blonde hair that she would play with, wrapping it absentmindedly around her fingers--  twist, spool, release;  twist, spool, release--  in a way that i found, mesmerizing.  i couldn't take my eyes off her.  when asked my favorite subject:  math.  we were learning number lines and greater than and less than.  alligators.  they want to eat more people rather than less people, see.  so their big open mouths point to the more.  it was a new school though, and the grounds were flat and treeless as the plains.  sitting on our metal lunchboxes on the loose soil of the play field, strangely like a prison yard.

this new school was disappointing as a school.  the teacher was old and fat and she taught us her recommended ethical policy: me three.  as she explained it:  god should be our main focus, the priority;  then we were to see to our family's needs;  only seeing ourselves and our needs as number three.  the books we read were about dick and jane.  i didn't really read that well.  i didn't pay attention in class.  i just paid attention to what the place had going for it:  landscaping.  it was the most beautiful school i ever attended.  the day of the attempted teasing i was on the playground.  the area was fenced off with a split rail stacked western fencing that made me think of giant lincoln logs.  the ground was a mulch of fallen needles that was clean and fragrant as the piney woods. the greenery framing a view like a huge front window looking out at a pretty row of shops, the seasonal window displays of the candy shop the crowning jewel.

i stood in this little heaven;  red patent leather clogs, reversible hooded cape, probably twirling, actually.  someone interrupted me.  tried to be insulting about my hair.  but my hair was clearly the best thing about me.  my daddy told me how beautiful my hair was, like, almost daily.

whatever jealous nobody, let me get back to twirling.


the world isn't now as continuously animate as it was then.  still, there are moments.  when the sky reflected in the glass buildings and the stark denuded trees lure fat black grackles to leaf.

shoes.

they didn't have the ones i was looking for.  i still spent an hour and a half trying on.  well, not only trying on.  wandering up and down the row of ballerina flats.  when i first became aware of the trend i found them tacky.  the platformed heels strike me in much the same way now, except, of course as stripper shoes--  if you are a stripper then these must be the halcyon days, no more no more the goldfish bowls of yore.

these new ballet flats--  some are tacky, of course, with buckles, or minnie mouse bows--  they are mostly kid leather black of clean design.  some have an extended toe which gives them a sexy en pointe look.  some have sculpted rubber heels, some have rubber soles, the apparatus of which is very like a jazz shoe.  i want them.  i want to put them on.  chasse forward.  arch backward.  twisting.  one arm back of hand to forehead.  other hyper extended back. chest open to the sky.

i buy no shoes today.

i walk back to the parking lot.  i get in the car.  i start to back out.

simultaneously, a car pulls into the row boxing me in, and the car beside and perhaps slightly in front (depending on perspective) begins to back out.

i cannot move back away from the car backing out because i am blocked.  i could pull back into my space, maybe, but for some reason this seems like a bad idea.  the other car has room.  if they are paying attention everything will be fine.

the very second i can see that they do not see me, i begin to honk, insistently.

the car just rolls on back into me, thwack.

i lay on the horn.

the car pulls forward, stops, opens it's doors.  music loud and metal pours out; and though it isn't there i see a cloud of smoke billow.  i get out.  he walks toward me.

i honked, i say.  that car blocked me in, i couldn't back away.

i didn't hear you honk til after.  i heard you then.  he spares a look at the front of my car.  there doesn't seem to be any damage, well, my car has a scratch.

i look.  he has a scratch.  my car seems fine.

well, i guess it's ok then, i say.

ok? he says, mild inflection.

yeah, i say.

cool, he says, nodding slightly.

we get back in our cars.

and drive away.

i'm feeling you very strongly right now

i had some ideas
but
i don't really know what to say, right now
my tarot thing says you aren't unhappy
and
that there isn't any particular thing you need right now

http://www.facade.com/tarot/personal/?UID=953374&Date=1%2F29%2F2014&Name=Anonymous&Query=&Deck=sola_busca&Reading=single

http://www.facade.com/tarot/personal/?UID=248126&Date=1%2F29%2F2014&Name=Anonymous&Query=&Deck=&Reading=single

i love you though
maybe you'd like to hear that
even if you know it already

mad as may butter ii

i don't really laugh at inappropriate times, might seem that way

mad as may butter

yesterday, when i tried to log in to my blog, it wasn't there.

i mean, there was actually a blog with my name, my actual name, containing exactly one entry.  i thought i might faint.  i've been writing to you for so long now.  the thought that it was all just washed away back to the beginning.  well, not the beginning, exactly.  i didn't even read it.

it was meant to be some sort of manifesto, i think.  how you awakened something in me.  before i decided it was babies and some sort of boho bali hai.

but the idea, now, that everything i'd said and felt with you here was gone, well, it just sucked.  i don't think of this as, like, hemingway's lost manuscripts and carbons.  from a writing perspective i think there might be two or three poems that are possibly publishable, it's really just practice writing.  but it's us, ya know.  where would it go from here.  

that's just ridiculous, i thought, it would move and flow somewhere else.

i watched some videos about palm reading.  i had forgotten the palm reading i had, wow, must be more than ten years ago now.  i had a star, she said, in the art area of my palm touching my heart line, and a fountain.  you could really write from your heart.  this new video was talking about the fate line.  mine is all choppy.  also it's pretty faint in places.  well, specifically, between my heart line and [which one is this, i think it's] the headline.  this section apparently represents the period of my life i'm living now, fate line/career-wise [but that seems opposite from how time runs on the life line], and the section which starts at the heart line is about the fifty year mark.

so, maybe that means i'm about to start some great artistic venture.

or maybe, they don't any of them use the same system.  maybe it's all hokum.

a little while ago i was talking to a friend of mine and she said something about glasses.  it didn't make sense.  didn't you get teased about your glasses when you were a kid, she asked.  no, i said, no body ever teased me about nothin.  then, today, this other girl i work with said something about red hair and teasing.  i don't understand, i said.  i mean, in first grade, somebody said something about that to me;  i just laughed at em and told em they were just jealous.  it never happened again. and it's not like word woulda got around.  we moved every six months.  i don't get it.

sometimes, somebody says something to me and it bothers me.  but pretty rarely.  mostly i examine the validity of the statement.  

i guess that has to do with debbie heather.  maybe that's why i'm mentioning that now.

and i guess from there i got to wonder things.  why i lied and told her i liked her shoes.  why i look at her to try to see what you see.  why not, for years, and then suddenly, yes.  i would like to not wonder them.  i would like to not care.  very much, would i like that.

continuing...

tomorrow probably

i'm tired, and i'm not sure where to go from there

i hope this isn't just totally not what you want

well, i didn't write anything

i'm having trouble focusing today

i'm going to bed
i'm imagining you coming with me

i love you baby

i want to write something, and i think i will later, but right now i want to tell you about something that happened yesterday

i stopped by ulta after work, because they had a free gift for me
mascara, which i don't wear
but it was ck one makeup
and they have some cool colors of mascara that i kinda want to try
although the free one is just black
but at least i could know how bad it irritates my eyes

whatever, too much wind up

so
i'm in ulta, after work
which happens
it's happened
i've been in there, in that light, with those mirrors, a lot

but this time
i look in the mirror
and
rather than saying:

wow, i look tired
or
wow, i'm fatter than i think i am
or
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkk

this time
i was like
wow, the light must be really good in here
or this makeup must be better than i thought it was
or maybe that new shampoo is really working
or
something
because i look, great
younger 

so
when i got home
i took off the makeup
and brushed back my hair close to my head
and got under a harsh, unforgiving light

and
i look younger

unfortunately
i'm not just doing one new thing
new year, new you, whatever
there's no way to isolate
what's actually working--  very unscientific

but i was looking at mid-thirties
instead of late thirties
which was already not bad

and, you know, this is completely inappropriate
but, i'm gonna say it anyway
but, until debbie heather pointed it out
i didn't really realize i had bags
i've always had the dark circles
and slight troughs, puffiness
it just didn't register
as an age thing
but
since she pointed it out
i've been working on that too
and the right eye's almost completely flat
it's just the pesky left eye that has any puff

so, here's the inappropriate part:

if you still read this, which i hope to god you don't
but if you do

thank you
for your useful feedback

will reading this make him have negative feelings (re, inappropriateness)

why am i feeling you now

I'm not normally all that
charged up in the morning
but
today
I've already toyed with
butter churning
as a metaphor

just come back to bed

this is experimental, so, whatever happens, don't freak out

so
there's still that view

me:  everything i know about you leads me to believe that you want me to be happy.

you:  well, yeah.

me:  and, i mean, you know how much i want to understand, but you never, when you have the opportunity, do anything to make it make any more sense.

at first, i thought that was because you weren't sure.  then i thought it was because you wanted to purposely keep me in the dark.  like, it's a proof that she loves me.  like the uncertainty got you off.  not as a mean-ness thing, but like, a kink.  Well, or that on a sliding scale to fairytale where the prince couldn't talk.

but that all changed a couple years ago.  no more flirting around with uncertainty.  you knew what you wanted, didn't you?

you:  i'm not sure what you mean.

me:  no, i'm not either, exactly.  i'm still figuring it out.  something had to change.

no more tubs of ice.

and this is where the uncertainty became painful, for me.  why would you risk losing me when you clearly didn't need to?

i don't believe you're tongue tied around me, but i do believe you can't trust me not to show my hand.  i mean, you can now i think, but even i am not certain.  plus, there's paranoia and whatnot to factor in.  i get it.  i never blame you for that.  just like i never blame you if you're just letting me believe a bunch of stuff that isn't real--  if it's even fair to say that you're letting me.

i mean, if i am the perfect audience, you gotta let me be invested in the show, right, figuratively speaking.  if i know i'm the muse then it becomes my performance.  to get what you need, you'd have to do that.

you:  and maybe that's what you need too.

me:  yeah, i've thought about that.  but it feels like this game isn't working any more, regardless.  i need to know more.  i can't suspend the disbelief the way i could.  and so i thought i really needed to know what was going on.

i'm not saying quit playing with you.

i think, i'm trying, to write you some dialog.

sunday morning is a good time to go to the grocery store

not in a bad way
the talking
and
nonfunctional doesn't mean not doing anything
I worked all day yesterday that way
I just wasn't good at it
these sinus (I think is what they are)
they're almost migraine-y
everything is bright and
loud

i've had a headache, so bad as to render me largely nonfunctional

there's still that view
and
I was gonna write a conversation
I can largely not picture us
sitting around talking
but
we need to
later
headache not better now
I'll try today

when i see it in my head we're sitting at a japanese table low to the floor

i had a little fantasy last night drifting off to sleep

we were in an apartment in paris
like the one in irma la douse
only the bed was against the side wall
i went out shopping
i came back with fragrant saffron rice
preserved lemons
french pharmacie stuff
twirling in circles
from the excitement of it all
and then
we twirled around together
laughing
and fell into the bed
where
any time you looked up
there was that view
it was
relaxed
and fun
and sweet
like there was, forever

i love you, you know

i want to make sure
you understand
that is
in fact what i dreamed
not thinly veiled
bitching
i'm not making judgements
about bow you should behave
and i always feel weird
when i bring up
issues
i wonder...
to be continued

so, i think i feel you now

and
i did have a dream last night i can tell you about

i was back in college
or, really, not in college
but rather at college

the buildings were all very gray
kind of classical-ish, but maybe a frank lloyd wright inspired version
it was four blocks, long long blocks
with building surrounding a mall
like, ya know, the mall in dc or london

i was exploring the campus

i found
the vending machines near the administration building to have an amazing assortment of really good stuff
while all other vending machines
were an almost complete waste of time

i found some place selling skin care, which advised me to base all
of an 18 step regime around egg products

i had encouraged my co-worker karl to get involved with a theater troop on campus
and now i saw him dressed as a baby chicken
or possibly rubber duckie
dancing around

have you heard this music, he asked
yes, i say
and i start to sing for him so he knows i'm legit
haven't seen the new children's play, though
and adam pops up
you should come see us
we're here every week for a while

i'm not sure where this was supposed to be

i spent a good amount of time this morning
working out
symbols

i still have this fantasy
that you send me dream symbols sometimes
like you want to tell me things
and, like, you just think really hard
what you want to say
and my brain picks up the signal, and interprets

not any crazier than anything else, i guess
poetic license
and
whatnot

i have to start talking again

and i miss you
really a lot
but
i don't know what to think
and
maybe it doesn't matter

i had another dream
i think you were in that one too

but
my foot was super damaged
i thought they were amputating my little toe
but
it turned out, no
the toe stayed
the bulk of the inside of my foot went

and
somehow i got home without after care instructions

was i supposed to do this like my aunts bed sore
basically pour in hydrogen peroxide
stir it up
clean that out
and pack with betadine soaked gauze

i didn't know
there wasn't anything in it now

i had been staying at my mom's
and it wasn't like anyplace we ever lived
it was beautiful
and large

and she wanted me to get out
she had a hook up in the works

i really don't think i can drive myself anywhere
can't i just stay in the front bedroom
it has a bath
i'm not getting around well enough to mess up your hook up
even if i wanted to


i can't remember exactly what you said to me
something like
that you loved me
and you had somebody else
so things were complicated
and, oh yeah
you had moved to a different place
but
even though she was across town
she was watching you like a hawk
and
why was any of that a problem for me

it wasn't such a good dream

i can't remember how i hurt my foot
seriously, it was like just the bones and outer shell
all hollow and scary

nobody seemed to care

are you ok

i just dreamed
you came to my apartment
not this one
everything was different
you were very nervous about being caught
i was younger, naked
i pressed against you
kissed you
you seemed older, slightly frail
the kiss was very tender, but deep
then
as you were leaving
somehow
i was hitting myself with a taser
you pulled it away from me
i grabbed you
and the electricity ran through us
a continuous loop

yes, i thought
just like sex

but then you were being pulled away

is he ok, i asked them
no, he didn't make it
but
you have to save him, i said
i love him
but
you were just a magazine
as i tried to perform cpr

i'm not ignoring you

i'm cycling back, sleepwise
or have been rather
got a promo set this week
i've been feeling you pulling on me
but i guess i'm in a weird headspace
not bad, just not talky
and
i guess part of my problem
is that
i don't know
too much
about you
about me
about us
so i don't know what i want to say

i'm not freaked out
or upset
but i am a little exhausted by life
and
i guess i'm just trying to catch my breath

i hope that makes sense   

i love you

hope
you are happy
and healthy
and
having adventures
i'll write something, soon
but
i don't think
i've figured out a way
to ask you the things i really wanna know

and
i have a bunch of
little stuff
i'd love to tell you
but
i think
it might be boring

can't remember what i dreamed, but there were tattoos

i have things
things i want to ask you
things i want to know
but
i don't seem to be able

such a long and involved dream

and i only remember
riding
in a train or bus, not sure
first looking at
then pointing out to a boy
the glimmering landmark
a giant pyramid of tiny tiny lights
towering
yet ethereal
in the dusk sky

carousel

i dreamed of looking
for a giant carousel by the sea
it was supposed to be amazing
one end angled into the sea
jutting down
dangerous, seemingly
to rival a rollercoaster
but
i couldn't find it
where it was supposed to be
a bunch of ugly stuff
but then
halfway hidden
a round art gallery
like a fairy grotto
and there was more

but
i still wonder
if you could have this be
anything
any way
any how
is this the way you'd have it
or
do you dream about something different
sometimes
sometimes i think
maybe you say different
but
then
i think maybe
maybe i just want you to have said that

kissing you

i want to learn to kiss with you
to sit in the back of a darkened theater
and steal my hand upon your knee
to go to a drive-in, maybe
to smoke dope
to see the marching munchies across the screen a million miles tall
to get popcorn
and soda
candy
if you like
and then
back in the car
to kiss you
i can't remember what it's like
to kiss like that

and what i really want, right now
is that

today had a rather surreal quality to it

i literally do not remember last year
it's one long blackout drunken escapade
there was death
and
mayhem

but i don't remember it

the year before
there was death
and
mayhem

but i do remember that

but
it's weird
i don't feel like the same person, somehow

today i felt very detached from my own ...
what am i trying to say here
not from my life
but from my job
my circumstances
it was like somebody just dropped me into a body
like i was drivin it around
and it didn't really work all that well
my back got sore--  so so fast

yet i was able to be triumphant
in a petty little way
suck it megan
i whispered to myself
as i sold the last 19 bottles of the 2 cases of the prisoner
that my regional overloard didn't really want me to buy

but it doesn't really help me
and my
my mother is starting not to bother me so much

we had dinner at this place she likes
and
i like it too

and
i worried about you today
maybe, sometimes, i think you won't know what i mean
you'll mistake my meaning
i paint you this delicate beautiful wraith/waif, sometimes
i might puncture your membrane
with my callous tongue

is that a hold-over from my dad, a long standing belief about men
something psychological
or something you made me feel
when first i cried to you from my balcony window
high, chain-smoking, and watching dragonflies in the rain

maybe it's the beautiful tragedy of your poetic soul
fancy words for the thing that pulled me
from the start

maybe i've reified it in a maternal sort of way

or maybe
i just heart you

it doesn't have to make sense
it just is
and
i
had
forgotten
the mayhem

and
i'm not sure what that means

fiesta

I dreamed I was getting ready
for
it originally was an art show
but
gradually
it became a party
rather than trying to sell things
I was going to celebrate
it started with decoration
then flowers
white tulips
white roses
more exotic white flowers
then
dachshund riesling
and some other phallic referent wine
that was red
and beer

a very small boy
who was related
and had been ignoring me
squeeled and threw himself against my legs
which gave me pleasure beyond measure
my little boy

I had a pet bird
I think it was a parrot

anyway
looking back
it seemed like
pretty wedding-y

but
I want
that child

readings

this evening

now

what does he want from me

i know you're unlikely to be impressed by this

but
my sales were #10 in the company yesterday
for my dept.
i mean
not for the store as a whole

so i went back to work yesterday, but i put myself on the dl

so
got the manager's ok to have help
found the most linebacker-y guy i could get
i figure he probably is my weight class
but he's like six foot somethin
i'm all tellin him
what to put on the dolly
where to take it
where to take it off the dolly
this was radically unpleasant for me
[not that he was unpleasant about it
just
i don't like that dynamic
you work, i "supervise"]

i kid you not
after 45 minutes
he's like:
that's it, right
and i'm all like:
no, you got someplace to be?

anyway
he escaped as soon as he could
and then
i just had to help people buy things
i figure by Monday i oughta be off the dl
and there's not much moving things around i'd be able to do today
i might be tempted to do a little
lifting
gotta be strong
and not

you are kind of adorable

i hurt my back

i left work early
i couldn't stand or sit
or walk or move
without discomfort
and
what i really couldn't do
was
bend
or lift things
just couldn't

i've spent all day
soaking in epsom salts
and laying on heating pad
rubbing bengay

stretching

and

i'm worried

not that i'm permanently damaged
i'm sure i'm not

but
i've got another nine days of this

and
i'm not sure i can


that has distracted me
and
i did want to try to tell you about that dream
the balloons, in space
it was cool
and
i performed the heart surgery
it was
sort of
shamanistic

i love you
and i'm sorry that i haven't had much
the last couple days
i wanted to
i'm thinking of you

oh wow
hurt back and all
i just took that dirty
the particular angle i'd like you to rub my lower back
it's been drifting back to renaming everything in the garden
animate, sensual
for a while now

do you like that more
sometimes if you do i think that's good
sometimes i'm not sure about that
i wish

what i wish
is that i knew
something that i don't know currently, about you

but i don't mean
general stuff
doesn't need to be sexy

i wish that
and that i was as tough as i think i am

heart surgery and releasing balloons into space

superbad headache all day

going to bed now
i love you
angel

something to do with religion

at these festivals
community gatherings
he had this ascension ceremony
which seemed to be about him
but people
who followed him
were sometimes walking around in a daze
not sure what was going on
having been relieved of most of their debt

i can remember 3 dreams

the first I was a kid, I think
it was this house
and my room was tiny and shaped
like a pup tent
I was not pleased
too small
no place to hang my clothes
but the view and property were beautiful
there was a train coming by
in the near distance

in the second
it was like a Manhattan project
or what's the other one
Los Alamos?
but
this was quantum
and
not weapon-y
the guys working it
they had really strange senses of humor
they would make these tubes
for each other to get in
kinda like doggie doors
and
as a joke
they kept changing the opening
to be too small
and lots of poop humor

in the third
I frothed milk
seemingly endlessly
making café mochas
enormous
collander sized mochas
but I seemed pretty happy about it
I think I want chocolate
and I knew mine were the best

i'm going to bed now

i love you

parade building

i went up the hill to speak to the alien
about my son's birth right
but it turned out
the big spaceship on top of the hill
was a bunch of guys
in a house that looked like a flying saucer
one was my son's father
and we had had some sort of really elaborate
game (maybe) that we had made together
anyway
i started talking to the other guys
and they were all really nice
i was telling them
it seemed like i had had two cars disappear
but possibly i had just dreamed, really vividly
of having the cars
because i didn't seem to have any
actual information about the cars

anyway
when you finally showed up
we started putting bits and pieces together
and we ended up with a parade of
lessons for children
using goofy cultural references
so it was kinda fun for watching parents too
i went back home
and tried to record another one
but my equipment didn't work so well
and when i tried to play it for you
it wouldn't play
and there was just a big puff of orange dust
you were nice about it
but i think
it was somehow also supposed to explain
how i still wanted you around
how great we always worked together
how, now i was reminded about it, i
totally missed you

i don't know if you ever got that message
or really if you missed me too
and
my son didn't seem to be anywhere
in the dream at all
so
i was a little confused about that

i left work early because i'm sick

i went to bed about 3 hours ago
woke up because i have to pee
drank tea before bed
but
i had crazy dreams
baseball
baseball players
going to games
i can't remember, but insider stuff

but then also
signing people up for gaming systems
using email
but then too
an elaborate system of pictures
representing
favorite holiday moments, i think
turkey, fireplaces, whatnot
they were telling me a story
and i was representing it with
a photo montage i was entering
into the computer, right then
it was weird

back to sleep

i hope i didn't freak you out

maybe the religion thing
didn't make sense
it wasn't meant to be at all bad

i love you
nickels

this is not done, not right, yet but i literally can't keep my eyes open

my inner landscape has a broad big sky

desert

i don't meet you in the forest
in the circle of trees
my mind just doesn't go there

i meet you by the campfire
the campfire in the desert
but the desert is so dry
i don't know if i can
stand the heat
of the
eye
i
see
the twister
arc across
turn
press into the landscape again, and again


tundra, with the trickster ravens, stealing the light of heaven

all night

i worked on this wine deal
there was so much involved
i was trying to help some people
get their family back together
and
i was trying to make some money
but
i wasn't sure what i was doing was legal
so
when i lost my cell
and i kept getting these messages:

they say they found your phone
go to unit 22

they say they found your phone
we know you're busy right now
but we suggest meeting with us
unit 22

i decided
i had to hurry and finish
before these guys find me

it wasn't a restful sleep

i haven't been able to say anything today

i needed to do laundry
i didn't do it
i took a bath

i dreamed last night that my breasts
like tightened, or something
pulling into my chest
probably
because my muscles were sore from lifting
i moved boxes
from 7:30 to 2:30 almost constantly

my protocol is working
two aleves and an ibuprofen with an emergen-c
before work
i don't like it for my liver
but it is really helping with the inflammation

i think i use critical mass on the epsom salts



i'm 50 pages from the end in that book
and
ultimately
i don't think it can be
st this point
quite what i wanted
i mean
i guess i must have changed what i wanted a novel to be, slightly
well, not changed so much as discovered
that it was not complete so much as stated
somehow

because i am learning, i guess, about how being human is for him
[mostly we'll say]
but there's something
some bigger picture
that despite all his talk of singularities
i'm just not getting

and that is what i'm trying to figure out
if i'm writing something
for you
about you
because of you
whatever
that's the thing i'm missing

i don't think i mean like a moral
i almost mean a metaphor

i keep playing with the idea of landscape
i clearly want the questing and the desert and the landscape
the cross country and the cross roads
i have worked the images and the symbols
until they are
just are
us

but
i need to be saying something with the story
the bits of the story were all pieces
of me telling you things
and me telling me things
and maybe you telling me things
but that isn't the story
i thought it was

but
i don't think it is

i thought
the way to write it
is some sort of uncertainty magical realism
unreliable narrator
i like films like that

but this isn't film

and take american god's for example
it's a good book
i enjoy it
but
the ending
doesn't seem to live up to the rest of the book

no
i think i have to know where i'm going
i, as it turns out, have
structure after all

that little bit about the ravens
i have had in the book
in pretty much exactly that way
for years
often
i picture that as
the end

so then
i must have the story, right
but, no

that story
i could write that story
and i could give it a beautiful little human growth theme

no
no i couldn't
nor do i think the thing to write you is the image of our fantasy life

i could, i might write you bits of that
they become part of the images the symbols
but they aren't the story itself


so what is it you read the story for
what is it about me that makes me hard to turn away from
what is it about yourself that you learn by listening to me
and what do i learn about myself from my inability to turn away from you
and what makes this so much more real
than the stuff that i am medicating my way through

i was thinking the other day:
i used to think that i should start a religion
and, as i watch myself
i think that was not as all bad advice
[though it was meant to be somewhat tongue in cheek]
i think that i have a natural tendency to look for meaning
and i think, now that i really understand the cyclical nature of religion
the growth that is possible by revisiting psychological states
year after year

i think that that, somehow, is the story

does that
make sense

cause i'm almost thinking i'm on to something

i had crazy vivid dreams

compassionate vampires
mutant powers
monastic order fighters
and the girl with the nickel tattoo

woven in
amongst all that
was me following you
and
some catch phrase about nickel
that said something profound about love
i wish i could remember everything
it was kinda intense

hope you are good
happy and healthy
i love you

i'm having a stressful work holiday season

if anything sounds weird
it just probably isn't coherent
I love you
and
I was pretty happy yesterday
but
today, less so

those last two were from a while ago

just now published them

they aren't apropos of anything, now
i guess when you publish it for the first time
it moves it to where you are at that moment

and more

the thing about bukowski's misogyny is
that it's so beautifly shows the break
that continued to break itself
and
the funny thing is
i saw enough pieces
footage of him with his wife
i think she kinda loved it out of him
i think i saw a couple pieces snap off
and
in the end
he was able to express the male-ness better
and
i mean, the women was just
true
on some level at least
i think it felt true
so if it's misogynistic, does it matter

we were building a restaurant

one piece at a time
with salvage
and whatnot
and what was developing
was quite a cantina

the waitresses were all done up
like catrinas
and then there was a more elaborately costumed catrina
playing piano

you had picked out the waitresses uniforms
lavendar and natural

three baths and 241 pages later

i have thoughts about what i want in a novel
in a way this is not new
i sort of knew this
but
a novel
for me
needs to tell me something about the person who wrote it
not anything about them, as such
but, rather, about how being a human is for them
like the planetarium of their synapses

really
i'm not talking about realism

murakami does this really well for me in wind up bird
or kafka on the beach
even though, really, what happens in those books
how much of that is real
none of it
all of it
who cares

it's all real

so, anyway
i was reading, i read something that made me stop
it was maybe trite, hackneyed
maybe something put in to explain away character development
maybe this wasn't him at all, but research
but
that isn't why i stopped
i stopped because it made me think of myself
like a verfremdungseffekt
suddenly i wanted to ask you what you thought

perhaps i have been going about our relationship all wrong
but no
i think i know what you get from me
no
but maybe i'm wrong

to the point where
no matter if it's trite and hackneyed
effective has got to count
to engage the reader directly
to relate the context of the work to their own lives
surely this was working for me, anyway

so here's the jist of it
[i'd like to run to you wrapped in a robe of some kind
ahhh but what to draw upon the robe]

men do not really want from women what they think they do
they want neither sex nor companionship
what they want
mystery
like the mystery
not
like a mystery

so
hmmmm
it seems to me
that what you want from me
is more like the unbundling of the mystery

although
that's a rather techno meta phor

which is why i don't describe the robe

maybe it's a mental dance of the seven veils

i love you

the last couple nights
it felt like
you were in bed with me
if you are doing something, in particular
I like it