Thursday, December 30, 2010
to know that you can be aloof, and say, and do some things, and not need affirmation or confirmation because you know exactly who you are, and people cleave to you, and praise you, and affirm you, precisely because you do not need it.
" '...this is all you got? what's it going to be like when we're married?' " he said, and I howled with laughter.
"they'd rather believe that they did something wrong, to deserve this abuse, then to consider that their parent didn't love them." (and I cried)
"this is what you do, at the end of a long day, you come to sit at a cafe, outside, and it's like a game, between who watches and who is being watched."
I won't be sorry
but it's true
and when I'm gone
that I'm the best thing
to happen to you"
I didn't think I could feel this good. This is what has been missing all along? -- Then, that first night, when I left and described it as ________, what I was describing was me, that night, in that moment, that series of moments. Throwing up all my junk at this person. -- which is what I had done to him. (think of all the things I am leaving out by writing this instead of those)
I didn't think I could feel this good. So this is what it feels like.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
1. I am a thinker.
2. I am a writer.
3. I search for the truth.
4. I want to do what is right.
5. I love beauty.
6. I love kindness.
7. I love art.
8. I love books.
9. I love learning.
10. I love poetry.
11. I love laughter.
12. I love travelling.
13. I love music.
14. I love painting.
15. I love movies.
16. I love fashion.
17. I love political philosophy.
18. I love Jesus.
19. I love Alexander the Great: strength, courage, fearlessness, character, principles, skill, tenacity, determination, leadership, unification/assimilation of ideas/cultures, i.e., what connects us is what counts; not what divides us or separates us.
20. I love being an artist. It's who I am.
21. I love strength.
22. I love standing for something.
23. I love taking something negative and reframing it so that the beauty underneath is what shines through, and is the thing that is taken away.
24. I love animals.
25. I love affection.
26. I love forgiveness.
27. I love orgasms.
28. I love good food.
29. I love good wine.
30. I love passion.
31. I love who I am.
32. I love choosing to love someone.
33. I love smelling amazing.
34. I love being clean.
35. I love being outside.
36. I love inspiration.
37. I love helping people who genuinely need it.
38. I love spiritual connections.
39. I love honesty when it is intended for good.
40. I love silence, at the right times.
41. I love talking in bed at night.
42. I love revelations about who I am.
43. I love spiritual insight.
44. I love when God reveals to me some aspect of the nature of existence.
45. I love purpose.
46. I love dedication.
47. I love conviction, for positive purpose.
48. I love education.
49. I love caffeine.
50. I love cleanliness.
Friday, December 10, 2010
"If you diverge from the path - "
"I MAKE the path."
2. "Have I gone mad?"
"I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I shall tell you a secret. All the best people are."
Something very exciting inspired me today at work.
Months ago, during the previews for a film at a theater, I saw an ad for a Levi's commercial for Braddock, Pennysylvania. It was immensely compelling to me, for a variety of reasons.
All my life, I've tried to understand the big questions: who are we? why are we here? what is the nature of existence?
As I grew older, and was exposed to different ways of thinking, coupled with certain threads of discovery and wonder that I'd appreciated since childhood, I started to think in these terms: is it possible we are divine? that, there's no set reality, now nor in the afterlife? that it's all what we believe? well, how do you develop the best beliefs? what makes us happy, and how is this tied into our belief system? can we liberate ourselves from a certain locked reality? what are the consequences of doing this? and how do you reconcile our divinity to our humanity? how do you meet heaven with earth?
For so long - still, now - I have searched for the meaning of life.
I've discovered, Don't complicate it. Don't ruin it by overthinking. Do what makes you happy. Address needs. Know whom to admire. Know yourself. Get rid of what doesn't work. Don't let anyone fuck with your happiness.
I was raised Jewish. There's a very critical concept in Judaism called Tikkun. It means, correction, or really, "the repairing of the world." That there is work to be done in our lives, not because it is Biblical law, but because it prevents social chaos. We have to work to restore order.
I've always been resistant to work. Homework. Chores. Schoolwork. Actual work, like, at jobs. I can do it when I have to, or when there's a purpose, but just to do it? Or because someone asked? No. My rebelliousness, my disobedience, my refusal to be disciplined has destroyed me. I couldn't be broken, I couldn't do the job. And I wonder why I am where I am, with the little education I have, with the little money I make, and why I can't do pull-ups. Well, I haven't put in the work. And it's always what has actually made me the most happy. My mom always said it was true, and she's been right: hard work is what makes you happy.
I fell in love with Jesus in my twenties. From an intellectual perspective, and from a human perspective, it was especially for these reasons: that he believed in equality for men and women. That he believed in sacrifice. That He represents what we possibly, probably are: Divine. That we are God(s), come to earth. That we have incredible powers that we need only open our eyes, to see. That we must protect our thoughts, because those are what define and cause everything else. That when he said "I am the Truth, the Light and the Way," what He meant was, "View yourself as I view MYSELF." Whoever has the innate capacity to say "I Am" - which is anything that exists - is God. Is also the child of God. Is immortal and protected, and is created to be good, and cannot be destroyed. That there are ways to undo pain and loss and destruction.
I recently went through a hard break-up because I was not taking care of myself, and had not addressed some very serious needs that I'd been avoiding for years. I was always trying, and failing, at doing it on my own. I had been so afraid, ever since I'd first heard the concept, of "giving myself over to God", because it seemed to me like handing over your brain and your soul to something that I knew literally, nothing of. Something about it frightened me in the same way that a person who knows they're sick, is afraid of going to the doctor; where awareness is more frightening than the disease itself. But as years have passed, and I've seen first-hand my poor choices, and how much I've defeated my own happiness, and how much my mind, upon overthinking, and obsessing, has gotten in the way of my actions, of doing the things that will bring me happiness, I've had to admit that it was mostly God who was bringing me anything good, and it was mostly me who was chasing down all the wrong things and destroying what God gifted to me. It got so bad, because of this break-up, that I hit the lowest point that I'd been, since two years ago when a loved one passed away. I found myself crying, again, uncontrollably, and saying to God, "I give up."
I had put all my eggs in one basket of a chance for happiness, and had no idea I was doing so. And I realized, not for the first time, that one person's attention was not enough to satisfy this huge void inside of me. I have come to accept the fact that I need to spread the wealth in order to survive and more importantly, thrive. Direct it at a variety of things and places and people, because otherwise, I destroy what I love. The energy I'm capable of directing at one person is so intense, that no human being could handle it. No one should - because if they could, it would mean they're as broken as me. And I get frustrated, and so angry, when I direct it at someone who IS healthy enough to be able to say "this is too much for me." So, I can no longer afford to do this, because, I am what I love. And if I love you and hurt you, then I've hurt myself.
So what did I pray for, only days ago? The chance to work, to rebuild, to direct my energies towards something that needs it, instead of trying to create a need, in an unhealthy way, in someone. I want to go where the best parts of myself could be wanted, and maybe even needed.
Seemingly off-topic, but is not:
I knew very little about Alexander the Great until a few years ago, when he crept up on me by way of a variety of different influences. I'd heard of him when I was younger, and never learned enough to be impressed to learn more. Why was he suddenly so compelling to me, later in life? Because he believed he was half God. And as my cousin once explained, when we were discussing how thought affects action, "He thought he was a God, so he acted like a God." I immersed myself in learning about him. I became enamored with one particular story of how Alexander tamed a particularly striking but stubborn stallion, whom no one else could tame. Alexander's unique insight - demonstrated in seed form at the age of 12 - was that there was a reason this horse was so unmanageable: he was afraid of his own shadow. Alexander turns the stallion towards the sun so that he cannot see his shadow, and is able to soothe him enough to climb up. He rides him straight across the fields to the awe of all the grown men around him, and when he returns to the cheering crowd, his father, King Phillip, rejoices to Alexander, "My son, ask for yourself a new kingdom, for that which I leave is too small for you." Alexander goes on to conquer the known world. And imagine that, when he was a boy, he had once complained to a friend, "My father has done everything! There is no frontier left for me to conquer."
Seemingly off-topic, but is not:
About two years ago, I was at another particularly dark point, when I began painting, out of "nowhere." It was completely cathartic, and nothing, literally, nothing made me feel as good, then to decide on certain colors, and to pick out a canvas, and get to work, and see what unfolds; because though I start off with one thing in mind, it ends up somewhere else, and it works. One day I was thinking about painting, feeling a desire for more, and I let my mind wander to the furthest reaches of what would be possible for my art; the biggest declaration, the loudest expression. Using a brush? Not enough. Throwing paint at the canvas? Close, but not enough room to do this in any given house. I wanted to shoot the canvas with paint, essentially, and literally capture what comes out through the other side. What I imagined, required a building that would have to be an abandoned warehouse. But, a) where would I find such a building? and b) how on earth could I afford it?
For months I've been thinking of how it might be, to get to some place, maybe in Pennsylvania or someplace in the east, and work on a farm, maybe move in with a family, and learn discipline. To really work. To start over, to learn how to plant, to learn how to grow, to wake up every day, and to go outside, and to put in effort. To push myself, and to know that at the end of the day, I gave it my all. I look at my life and my clothes and toiletries and cell phone and I think of red tape and bureaucracy and taxes and paperwork and I just want to escape to something very, very simple. Very fundamental. Very literal. Where I plant a seed, literally, and I lead a sibling life to that seed, as we grow. Where I learn what it means to build, rather than to destroy. Something outdoors. When I went camping two months ago, I found myself incredibly comfortable with the removal of all the comforts of modern life. I came home and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, and put my hands on the edge of the sink, and I didn't accept any of it. I was still in the woods, surrounded by an open sky, trees, leaves, and the smell of fire.
At my job, lately, there hasn't been as much work to do.
But there has been much mention of Pennsylvania because of the formation of a state licensure board, which is a big deal in the industry in which I work. Things hit a critical mass for me today, for these reasons: 1. there's a space, because there isn't much work to do, and 2. I had a desire - a space - to learn about something, to immerse my mind in something, because the thing that I've been so consumed with, is no longer occupying so much of my mind. I got a call from someone in Pennsylvania and it suddenly occured to me. I remembered the Braddock ad for Levi's, and how incredibly meaningful it was to me. And because Pennsylvania, for me, reached a frenzy, I decided to engage. And I researched it. And while I'm researching Braddock - literally, there's a picture of the mayor of Braddock, standing in an enormous, paint-peeled abandoned warehouse - my management team comes around with Christmas gifts for us. My office manager hands me a gold box with a red ribbon, from a place called Leonidas. I open it and I see four chocolates. And the one that immediately catches my eye, because I am so familiar with the outline, is the one engraved with the profile of Alexander the Great.
"Maybe the world breaks on purpose, so that we have work to do."
There are people in all parts of the country headed to Braddock to focus on the things they enjoy, because they can purchase homes for dirt cheap and get enormous spaces and can do a different type of work. The mayor of Braddock is intent on ushering in a renaissance for the town and is drawing those specifically from the arts and green technology communities, because the potential - the space - is there. He has personally purchased abandoned warehouses and renovated them into residential lofts. He's housed at-risk teenagers there, who are too old for the foster care system. Artists have come to share studios and there's an organic farm that's being cultivated to feed the community.
Here is a man who sees beauty in something broken, because he sees, not what is, but what could be.
"We were taught how the pioneers went into the west.
They opened their eyes, and saw how things could be.
People think there aren't frontiers anymore. They can't see that frontiers are all around us."
Thursday, December 9, 2010
2. I did this once before; and I believe it's here again, for a reason. I'm going to fall back out of the marching line, and I'm going to sneak off into the woods, to find what is true, privately. And if it is what I think it is, then I'm going to share it.
3. If the dream became a nightmare, then the only thing to do, is to choose myself into another part of the dream. It's not over, you know.
3.5 I once wrote some instruction for myself, because it had been on my mind for so long, because I hated getting out of bed in the morning, because I had no purpose, "Find something, anything that makes me jump out of bed in the morning, ravenous, to chase down that thing, and make it mine." I'm now writing this as a sober reminder, after having ravenously chased down one thing, that it can never again be something that has free will. My sights have to be set on something that is nebulous, dynamic; interwoven; not constituted from one part or piece. This thing I chase, it can be something like a career, or a mission. Maybe in the future, it'll be my kids...only, I won't be ravenous to get them into existence. I'll permit it, I'll be willing, rather than willful. I'll just be... excited, to wake up, to serve them, to just have them be my joy. There isn't anything else that they should be. The thing that makes you jump out of bed? It shouldn't be anything else, except that which makes you just. plain. happy. And if you can't have what makes you happy, then be happy to have been blessed with a duty.
1.5 The reason why it cannot be a person? Because that's called stalking.
2. I had stopped feeling. It had been that way for a long time. I don't know when the feeling stopped, when the void began. My feelings came back to me this time, recently, as if from out of my body, out of my soul, like a cloud, like a fog. This is what enveloped me. I know this, because, when things ended, those feelings that were just hovering outside of me, suddenly rushed into the vacuum inside of me, and hit me like a bomb in the stomach. This is how I got the feelings back: through pain. Did I do this to myself, to get myself to feel again? Maybe. Was it a blessing in disguise? Maybe. Do I feel again? I feel pain, yes. I feel exuberance at times, yes. I feel guilt at times, yes. I seem to have found my conscience again. I know happiness is on its way, and by that, I mean strength. I think this is what was meant by "give myself over to the care and will of God."
3. I recognize that this is also why I write, here. Why there's not really a curtain that I've been made aware of, as it pertains to my thoughts. No human man can handle this. I know this, because I'd consistently chosen all the ones that I thought were deep enough, broad enough, dynamic enough, intelligent enough, philosophical enough. None can encompass all of it. That's okay. God didn't intend me, in this specific respect, for one person. God intended me for all who care to hear it. Instead of whispering down one well, I will speak clearly into the universe, and hope some light reaches the farthest, darkest parts of an ever-expanding space.
4. And I believe it is humility - which is a healthy awareness of my divinity - that permits me to make that statement.
5. I perceive that if you can be completely open and candid with someone up front, then your relationship cannot get much deeper. You've "put your sins before you" and you are loved instantly, unconditionally. Imagine that. Instead of hiding, you've turned yourself inside out. You've become a sun extending light outward, instead of a black hole, always wondering why it's never, ever enough. The choice is ours. Imagine that.
6. I know its right, and good, because I will think it, and something in my environment in that exact moment will reflect exactly what's on my mind. Miracles are instantaneous. God is faster than thought. This is how I know.
7. The cracks run deep. They may never be totally healed, but I am going to do what I can, until I am able to do better, until I am able to do better than that, until I am able to do my best. I believe that scar tissue can be reversed. I have to. Entirely. I believe God can do that.
8. "Did you have bad dreams again?"
"Only one. It's always the same, since I can remember. Do you think that's normal? Don't most people have different dreams?"
9. "It's all happening so quickly. I think I...I need a moment."
9.5 I wake up in the morning, and I drink a potion out of a small bottle, and I fancy myself, for an instant, a bit like Alice. I am then able to see things differently. Then I get on my knees, and remind myself, to God, that I am out of control in God's absence. And that I'm going to let God take care of me, and do for myself what I cannot do on my own. When I fail to make this pledge in the morning, then I've chosen to not be human.
10. "She's the right one. I'm certain of it."
10.5 "How can I be the wrong Alice when this is MY dream? I ought to know who I am."
"Yes, you OUGHT, you stupid girl."
10.75 "It's only a dream. Nothing can hurt me. You can't hurt me. You can't hurt me."
11. I denied my existence, my humanity, for decades. 3 to be exact. Then I chose, one day. I said, "I want to be human." This permits me to say "I want children," and what I mean by that, is, "It's okay by me, that one day I'll die."
12. I understood why he didn't want his daughter around. It's because he thought he was poison. It had nothing to do with the schooling in this country or any other excuse he could have argued. It had to do with him being terrified of passing on whatever he perceived as his illness, to something that didn't deserve it. This is what sickness teaches you: that you're incurable and that you deserve to be all alone. You'll know you're in the presence of illness when there's no hope to be found, and all you want to do is isolate. That's not God talking to you. That's something else. It's a black hole. It's called shame. It is only by drawing that line in the sand, that you declare "I have a chance. There IS room for me to grow. I AM forgiven, I DO deserve love, I CAN love." Anything that tells you otherwise, is a lie and must leave at once. This is where greatest joy is highest truth.
12.5 "You were much more...muchier. You've lost your muchness. In there... something's missing."
13. Humans used to live in peril. There used to be so much more danger. We are overwhelmingly a lot more lucky, a lot more has been established, rules and institutions and laws and such, that have been put into place and into practice, that permits us to walk about safely. And yet, we imagine such dangers. We imagine such adventures, and such perils. But we imagine great beauty, and tenderness, and fantasy, as well. What does this mean? That what we need, we create.
3. We're no longer looking together. And that's totally fine.
4. It's funny to me that guys I've dated previously, actually provided more warning for me about their successors, than the successors themselves. They weren't aware that they were doing this. I am grateful for this. After it's all been burned away, this is the pure that remains.
5. I've been wrong before. I'm going to be wrong again. I'm grateful. Because if I were always right.... man, that would be a BAAADDDDD thing.
6. The rubber bands are headed in the right direction.
7. We are attracted to people and to things. If we don't think about why, and we then we keep coming up against the same problems. Thinking. Thinking and reflecting, critically. I need to learn more about how to do this well. I'm sick of not learning the same lessons, so, I'm drawing the line in the sand.
8. We honor ourselves and others when we practice what we know is true. When we discard it, everyone suffers a huge, huge pain in the ass.
9. But... God is great because Life takes that pain in the ass, and creates a hemorrhoid cream, that requires a plant, and employees, to gain wages, manufacturing that cream. So, there, hemorrhoids. BOOM. Done. Talk about making lemonade out of assholes.
10. It was fun, actually, for a little while. Because I don't do drugs, and because I love to distort my consciousness, getting the world to revolve completely around you, though no small feat, was a really cool way to view things for a bit. I reached heights and depths that... no average human, I think, would be willing to spend their time and energy on. It's obvious to me, from this, that a) I actually have happiness to spare, because I'm so ready to take on, temporarily, a lot of sadness and pain, as if it's like, extra dishes to wash or books to carry, and b) I obviously have a lot of fight in me. Maybe I wasn't too far off on that whole joining the Marines thing....
11. I appreciate your presence in my life for what it was. But to be honest, I brought this on myself. You didn't ask for any of this; I obviously knew, deep down, that I needed to walk this path. You were an innocent bystander, so, I'm glad that you've been able to walk away from this pretty unscathed. It's better that you had such a low tolerance, otherwise, this might have affected you negatively. But back to me. (haha). I am glad you were persistent. I am glad that I caved and decided to take you up. God was eagerly rubbing his hands together at that point, saying "okay, I think she's ready to be honest with herself. I think she's ready to be cool."
12. I think this really was all about the fact that I need a better job.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
2. The truth? The truth is, it has to revolve around me.
3. Sink or swim. You judge yourself on how you're swimming? You're going to fucking drown. Just. fucking. swim.
4. "Are you a man or are you a bag of sand?"
5. We'll never know, and that's the fucking point.
6. God is a huge child with the most established sense of humor in the universe. S/he doesn't want to be found, but s/he wants to be sought, and wants us to do this with all our might. S/he hides in tall grasses and leaps out at us from our conscience. When you think you have your hand on it ---
7. What were we talking about?
8. You need something soft from one side and something hard from the other side. If you have too much of either, you get crushed or you don't form. It's a fine balance, but, tell me, who has ever perfectly achieved that balance?
9. God would answer, "Everyone, and no one. Now let's go play outside."
10. It's time to put this to bed.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
2. I'm still trying to control the situation, and I can tell, because I keep shrugging off suggestions from people around me. I hear people say "Sanity is my higher power." "Sobriety is my higher power." "Rationality is my higher power." "The people in these rooms are my higher power." Well, here's the problem I'm having: I once said "I must be God, some form of God, because, every event in my life, originated from a thought or a desire I've had. I don't remember creating the universe, so, I'm not taking credit for that. But I felt a desire to do _____, and then, I did ______. Did I start my own life? I honestly don't know the answer to that question. Have I caused much of my own happiness? And misery? Yes, yes. Have I said 'I want this' and gotten it? Yes. Maybe this is just life, just being human. Maybe being human is something more than we think. Do you see the problem here? Where is the floor upon which I rest my feet? There is none. The only things that ground me lately are the prayer 'Your will, not mine', and a tiny, weighted statue of a Hindu monk, in Lotus position, holding a cup of water in his hands, his eyes closed. It's heavy. And I carry it around because it's my totem, like from Inception. The weight of it, reminds me to keep my feet on the ground. But it also reminds me that if I'm not able to go through the particular doorway that I had thought I could, then, there's still good reasons to continue down this road, of trying to maybe not make sense of it all, but, at least, to get out of my own way. I don't know anymore. I'm in a sandstorm of my thoughts and beliefs and they're all blinding me, and one prayer and one little statue - I'm apparently now an idolator, too - are what are grounding me to Earth, like a wire.
3. As I'm writing the paragraph above, a woman calls my work and her name is spelled "Jain", which, I find interesting, and which I know is a form of Hinduism. I look up Jainism on Wikipedia: Jainism is a form of Hinduism that opposes violence. I read further: "According to Advaita Vedanta, the attainment of liberation coincides with the the realization of the Atman (one's personal soul) that it is identical with the Brahman, the source of all spiritual and phenomenal existence." Hm. / see what I mean?
4. I don't know if focusing, or not focusing, brings something to fruition. And I can't help but to think of it, all. the. time. I try to get it out of my head, and I can't. You're in there, whether I like it or not. And mostly it's guilt, but it's also a lot of memories.... but it's fading. There's no you, to reiterate yourself to me, and, I hate that. I search for you, and I cannot find you, and my world is very, very dry, and I've stopped looking in what I know are empty wells, trying to find the water that I thought you were. This feels like a curse.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
I could actually feel, at the most intense moments, when I was most conscious of the loss of you, and of my hand in that loss, and my guilt over it, of destroying my own happiness, that with every word I wrote to you, trying to get you back, I was pushing you further away. My desire felt like one edge of the sword, and your best interest felt like the other. I can no longer believe that this is true. I want to be on your side.
It's been weeks, and I still wake up every morning, and you are the first thing on my mind. The next thing I think is, "where are you?"
My day is a multi-dimensional graph, with every possible truth value representing a line, and every day, I hit every single point on that graph, sometimes twice or three times. Every point, every intersection is a set of possibilities: that you still care, that you still want to be with me, but that you cannot because you have been hurt by me too much. That you care, but that I caused too much damage, but that in a few months, it could happen for us again. That you don't care now, but that you did, but you cannot now. That you cared, but because I couldn't see it, there is no chance for the future. That I was totally alone in all of this. That I was not alone in all of this, but because I couldn't appreciate you the way you deserved, because you are a gem, you must move forward, without me. That even though I apologized, you still cannot go forward. That you can go forward, but because I haven't tried enough, you are, every day, moving away from me. That if I leave it all alone, it'll come back. That if I don't fight for you, I'll lose you forever. That if I leave it all alone, it'll come back. That if I don't fight for you, and tell you I was wrong and you were right, I'll lose you forever. That if I leave it all alone, it'll come back.
I read something by Dostoevksy once: "What is hell? The inability to love." He's right. But I've also come to realize that Hell is actually just uncertainty. It's not having a grounding point, a foundation, against which to measure all other things. I'm not asking for sympathy. I'm asking to be saved. I don't know what to measure anything against, and because I've trusted myself for so long, it's unbelievably uncomfortable to rely on God to do what is right. It lasts a few minutes, and then I forget it all, reality comes in and argues against me. I write out a few ideas that I have to MAKE true, that I have to MAKE a reality out of, because if I don't, then I've got nothing.
1. Miracles are happening all the time, all around me.
2. I am the miracle, and I am taking place right now.
3. God is in control. Do you think God is worried? Then why are you?
4. Anything is possible.
The thing I love most about you is the line you draw in the sand. But I cannot stomach the idea that I'm forever on the wrong side of that line. And I don't know what to do about that. I only know how to fight in one way: by taking action, with words. By arguing for what is right, against what was wrong.
"I love you... my responsibility has found a place beside you." This is what you are to me. This is what you represent. You are the call to Jesus, if you will. You are the rock against which I've come to measure pretty much everything; and you've done this, without trying. This is you, naturally. For months, I've been arguing against it, against this possibility, that one person could refute so much of everything I've thought, my whole life, and represents everything I've hoped for, my whole life; everything I've denied, and everything I've secretly hoped is true. I pushed it all away, I pushed you away, and I know now, what a mistake it was, to fight against my own happiness. Life doesn't like it. My life doesn't like it, without you.
"My responsibility has found a place beside you".
"Put your little hand in mine..."
It's not too late to change your mind.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
I’ve been feeling like I’m going to die tomorrow.
Like there are goodbyes that I need to say, and that every sadness and regret I’ve been able to absorb and excrete has somehow found its way back to the front of my mind, at least everything that was painful enough to register, hard, in the first place.
It came upon me today all the once that I will be getting older, and that I am merely one small wave, one particle, that has a shimmering moment at the peak of the crest.
Lila, who just got married, will be having babies soon. Lila will cease to exist one day, and it occurred to me that this could happen before me, and that I would know her children in her unfortunate absence. And this is how things go; and there would be our generation, Lila’s and mine, and then there would be our children’s generation, and they would have their own immediacy, just like us. And we would give way to them, because this is what we do; this is how we secure future. Because we do not live indefinitely.
It feels like a tragedy, to think of not having the kids and the family. I believe I dreamt about this, a forecast of that possible world, where I lived, in solitude, in Canada, and I was a lesbian and I was an academic and I was terribly, interminably, alone.
It came upon me all at once today, and it flooded me until I was drowning, with no life raft of my own convictions, of standing strong and happy in choices I didn’t even have the chance to make yet, that were preliminary choices. I was drowning, and it came upon me all at once.
To never have been anything that I’ve been proud of. To never have set a direction for myself, and stayed it, because the most important thing would be my mind. What is the point of a mind that perceives and desires, if you just lay down and agree with whatever random soil you have been nurtured by? I thought we were seeds that could get up and walk over to the next best ground.
It was when I got off the bus and happened to look to my right that, afterwards, I was clear. To stop something. To break up what is painful to me. Not to them, to me. They wanted each other to have someone to abuse them, and to be a victim to that abuse. They were comrades. He had her by the neck, pinned down, bent over at the waist, and she was grabbing the stroller handles with both hands. But she was angry when he was arrested. She was incensed and she attempted to fight back with the police to protect him. They were on each others’ sides by the time it was all over and done with. They needed each other, to fill in the razor shard-fingers of their missingness. You can only complete violence with violence. I stopped what was profane to me, and what was comfortable to them.
It was a mess before I stopped it, but it was clear after I stopped it. I wasn’t the first watching them. But I was the first to intercede. The other guy, who had been watching, waiting for it to escalate, wasn’t the first to break it up. He thinks he was. I was the one who walked right up and yelled Hey! What is wrong! And then the other guy came in. I was the first one to act. I was the one to dictate Stay here and watch them as I went in to get the cop. This is what makes me feel good. I did it with my own raised voice.
And then it was clear to me, when Annie was pregnant in the car, driving me, the peace to end all mispeaces this whole morning and afternoon. She reminded me of something I never had, but that everyone knows before they are born, and forgets before they forget. That it’s going to be okay. That as long as we hit the dead end, we’ll be okay. That sometimes you can only learn as much as you can handle, and then you have to close the book. That you can sleep now, at least for now, because in a little bit, you won’t be able to. But it’s still nothing about to worry. For all the waves and motion and flooding this morning, with no anchor, with no life raft, with no explanation of how it’s actually going to work out, with only a drowning in worry and in language about babies and family that I can’t understand, for all of this that came upon me at once, she cleared away. I was reminded that even though I never had this, I’ve always been an owner of it. I never didn’t have access to it. She must have just woken up from a nap, because her closeness to God filled the whole car, and I breathed one round and was convinced. I’d just broken through something that was profane, and I was ready to go swimming.
I couldn’t be the rock star because I doubt all the things that make me rocket forward into space.
If there’s discipline to be learned, where do I go to learn it? Must I cut myself off from everyone and everything that pulls me in and apart? Where do I go to become the person I keep aborting?
Monday, July 5, 2010
I fired God and myself, hired.
What I can’t do is stay when it’s pointless. The work itself is tolerable. The stress? I like it, I like knowing that it makes me stronger. The frantic pace? Fine, it pushes me. I thrive on it, actually; for the first time, I look forward to going to work, because I am needed there. But what I can’t handle is knowing that I’m doing the same shit as everyone else, and because of legalistic bullshit, I don’t get the same treatment as everyone else. This is what pulls me down off the deep end. This is what causes me to say fuck it and just stay home.
We need to have other things to talk about. Think about it: If I have absolutely no fucking way of commenting or contributing to the stuff you’re saying, except to say, over and fucking needle-in-the-eye-disdainfully-over again, “Oh, that’s so great!”/”That’s awesome!”/”Oh, wow!” then please, do us both a favor and get a diary. I don’t care that it’s the happiest thing that’s happened to you recently. I love you, but I don’t. When you talk, talk to me, not at me, about things that I can contribute to, otherwise what am I to you? Seriously, think about it – what does that make me if you just spew out shit that I can’t contribute to? Don’t for one fucking second think that thinking out loud in my presence is anything I remotely give a fuck about, or want to know. I’d rather run alongside the car, than be in it with you, if you can’t act smart enough to know that a conversation means engaging on a thing that two people can relate to. What kind of life did you grow up with, if you want to throw shit my way, and don’t want my interaction? And yes, please, speak the fuck up if I pull this shit on you. But we both know I don’t.
I can do this if you could love me, but if you can’t or won’t date me, in front of other people, then go away.
I can’t believe how fucking poor technology is. Really, for where the Minoans were, in terms of technological developments and advances, and we don’t even have 100% effective birth control? Where's all the tech that blends thought with fiber-optic cable at the flick of a neuron switch? Get with it, dude - if I can think of this shit, then what are you working on, and why the fuck hasn't it hit the gen pop by now?
You need to get over yourself, and chill the fuck out, immediately. Immediately. Basically, if you’re feeling that need, that compulsion to say it? Do us both a severe favor and fucking don’t.
Life as it is, is something I can't take. It's so fucking boring. It's been done. It's being done, all the time. Do I sound like an addict? Fine. I'll take it. What I can't handle is the mundane. This is why I get that people plow out on weeknights, on every weeknight, so that they're hung-over the next day. Those people, while potentially alcoholics, are also warriors. I get needing something to struggle through. Where's the Colosseum here? Nowhere. Where are the spectators? There are none. The walk through the fire goes on in and of ourselves, only, what's the point, if no one else is watching, and saluting? It's not enough to know that it's hard because we realize that others are doing it, which makes us totally unspecial. We want the competition, and we want the recognition. Modern life? Fuck you, you've taken it all away. There's no way we're happier, fundamentally, without a struggle. No. Fucking. Way.
Nietzsche was dead wrong. It's not a contest of will. It's a fucking charisma contest. And we're all leaders, and all followers.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
staring up at big branches
and leaves of startling swaggering
it is a life spent under tall grasses
and the muscle ache of parting,
always only peering
the exhaustion is scaffolded by
the sitting still.
if it moved and had life,
it would be a thing untired.
it is not a thing in motion
that needs rest;
it is that a thing not moving is