Much

(it's all coming back to me)

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'm alright
I won't be sorry
but it's true
and when I'm gone
you'll realize
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.

Who are you?

Your fear is because you don't know who you are. So, who are you?

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.

Go Forth

1. "From the moment I fell down that rabbit hole I've been told who I must be. I've been shrunk, stretched, scratched, and stuffed into a teapot. I've been accused of being Alice and of not being Alice but this is MY dream and I'LL decide where it goes from here."

"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."

Oraculum

1. I believe that the description has stopped, and the prescription has come.

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.

The Pure That's Left

1. I'm trying to see things from your point of view. And then I'm trying to view things from a better version of my own point of view. You know what I'm left with? A gold mine. You can't take any more credit for this than I can, because we were born to do this. Our actions were present at our birth. Every single one of us. We were all seeds, growing together, and all the grounds and nutrients and rains and sunshine and storms and even animal urine, everything that is happening was meant to happen, meant to influence. There were indications along the way, and we chose to see what we wanted, and to ignore what we wanted. I don't want to ignore any more. I choose to see.

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.

I need a title

1. "Phew. --For a minute there, I lost myself."

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.

It's a Dull Knife, But It's Still a Knife.

1. I'm doing all of this because I want the thing that I want.... and, I'm not getting it. I'm sorry, but what is the point, if there's no reward? Fucking goal-oriented - this is bullshit.

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.

5. The truth is, even if you came back, it wouldn't matter. I have no self-respect. Literally, none. I laid aside every single one of my standards by the end. There was no barometer by which to even calculate meaning, between you and I. Not at the beginning, and absolutely not at the end. The only thing that I can count for truth are, were, my motivations, about which I came clean, and which, I now regret sending you. Why? Because you didn't ask.

6. The truth is, even if you came back, it wouldn't matter, because I don't know what health looks like. I don't know what a normal life, or a normal relationship, with health, with love, with communication - i.e., talking, in bed, at night - with boundaries, looks like. I don't. This is why I am, or someone else is, always frustrated, and whoever isn't, is clearly taking advantage, or being taken advantage of, by the other.

7. The truth is, family doesn't leave. And if they do, you can tell that they're family, because even when they're away, they're always right there.

8. The truth is, I have never, literally, never known what I was doing - I only acted like I did. I saw people in life, or on tv, going to stores and kissing faces and reading books and laying down silverware, and I imitated it, without having any knowledge of the meaning, or the content, or the motivation behind it. It was like trampling through a movie set and thinking what I did had any impact, at all. If I did know what I was doing, that has surely been turned upside down and inside out. If you think I'm being dramatic, a) fuck you, and b) find a way inside my head, and you'll be begging for a gun.

9. I was right about how I saw the movie. If I keep reaching out to you, all I'm doing is standing there, staring at my crushed, amputated arm, crying over the fact that I had to cut it off, crying over the fact that I wish it were still on my body, crying over the fact that the rock had ever crushed it, begging it to come back, pleading with it, trying to reason with it, trying to distort reality just to convince it to move, as if it could be convinced, as if it could be moved. All this trying, and crying, when I was the one to cut it off. I didn't know the tendons I was capable of snapping. You can't reason with a rock, you can't out-argue a rock. It operates on nothing except it's own gravity. Well, me and the rock? We fell together. In a sense, we both chose to get stuck. Instead of crying over the fact that I freed myself, what I need to be doing, is thanking fucking God that I had the balls to cut myself free, and then to be cut free, because at this point, it doesn't matter how it happened, just that it happened. What I need to be doing, instead of standing there, begging the rock to move itself out of its very settled position between a wall and my amputated hand, is to get the fuck out of here as soon as I can and remember that I was lucky enough to have the luxury of cutting off a limb to save my life.

10. I was right about how I saw the movie. There's a reality that I'm going to bring to life, and every. single. thing. I can see, for miles, for years ahead, in every single direction, no matter how much I think I could outsmart it, everything in life says that there's no fucking way that what's inside my heart, what I am seeing with a different set of eyes, could ever, ever come to pass. Reality is that there is a prison, and I am inside that prison, and I've got to be both the attorney fighting that sentence, and the convict dutifully carrying out this sentence, until I learn to not only believe in my innocence, but to be smart enough, savvy enough, educated enough, and determined enough to either fight my way out, or to break my way out.

11. They should have let me date as a kid. Sex, love, hormones, drugs, all of it is simply as prevalent as air. Any parent who thinks otherwise is living in a fucking fantasy world. If they had let me date, let me have boys around when I was young, this wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't be writing this, right now. By trying to protect, they were hurting. I'd be doing something incredibly different and you probably wouldn't know who I am, and my focus would be on so, so much else. But I am here, because things went the way they did. Because I wasn't taught, because people were afraid, and thought it better to deny the inevitable, i.e., reality, than to invite it in, learn about it, model a behavior towards it, show the love and understanding of it, decrease the fear of it, increase the education of it, and thus, establish the power OVER it, so that it wouldn't have overpowered ME. Because I wasn't taught. I was totally, unashamedly, unprotected. They may as well have thrown me to the fucking wolves. For that, everyone before me, before them, I suppose, is to blame. But that doesn't do shit for my situation. So what do I have to do? I have to be parent, child, and adult processing all this, to myself. I deserve the fucking Nobel for this shit. And yes, fuck you, I am going to take a self-righteous attitude about it. But I'm going to do it. Fuck you and fuck me if either of us thinks that I can't change. I'm not here to prove either of us right.

12. The dog days are over, and if they're not, I'm not stopping until they're fucking chased away with fire and knives.

13. Give me truth or give me death.

14. I know exactly how I lost my conscience, and I know exactly why this led to me losing my mind. I know that I'm not out of the woods yet. But bit by bit, row by row, .....

15. I never wanted them, I never wanted it. When you came along, these ideas wrapped themselves around me so slowly, so gracefully, I didn't even notice. And then when I did notice, I burned it all down. Why? Because of everything above this line on this page. I felt a pang in my stomach a few minutes ago and I imagined it was you reading this, and taking it personally, and being hurt by it, by me, again. I don't know what's more sad - that you were hurt by me, and I could feel it, or that I imagined this, and you haven't even read this, at all.

16. If I can't find purpose enough in myself, and I destroyed the chance of finding purpose in you, then I find purpose in those who don't yet exist.

untitled

1. If you look for it, you're going to find it. Even if it's not there.

2. I have a hard time setting books on the floor.

3. Gravitation, electromagnetism, weak interaction and strong interaction are our primary Commitments to God that we'll stick around to learn some lessons on Earth. The Four Agreements are the best way to operate given those initial Commitments. Funny how there are four, and Four. I'm not dumb, you know.

4. If you bring it up, they'll follow it up. We're all the leader in every given circumstance. Why?

5. Because of the Principle of Certainty. Nietzsche was wrong; it's not the Will to Power, because it's not necessarily about domination for the sake of domination. Most of the time, someone's desire, or their happiness, is the strongest thing for miles, and when we see certainty with such weight to it, we latch onto and agree to that, unless ours is stronger. The bitch of it is, when you don't realize that you're not having the fun you're supposed to be having.

6. Playboy Philosopher Bunny. Not King.

7. Forgiveness is, "I see how you went wrong. I know you didn't know what you were doing. I disagree with what you did, and I can stand here, next to you, and be with you, even while I disagree with you. I don't have to leave." But sometimes, you have to leave. We're human, we can only take so much.

8. It's a tough thing, realizing you're Ray Porter, when you're so used to being the Mirabelle.

9. Walking in Faith, not in sight.

10. If you're being honest, then all of it is Church. The most attractive thing is to be able to say "I'm broken in half for these reasons" because if you're not aware, then you're not conscious.

11. Beauty is humility, hope, and faith, even if you're not sure what you're hoping for. It's the perfect triangle. It's the strongest bond. Why? Because it permits all things to be possible. It's by saying "I KNOW" that you lose out on vast quantities and qualities of life.

12.

Keep The Talent Happy

I don't know what to do.

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".

And now,

"Put your little hand in mine..."

It's not too late to change your mind.

It's Time.

This is the only thing I know how to do.

It's been a week of non-stop nausea. I'm sure I've lost weight and for once I don't care.

When I'm slow, and deliberate, I can say the truth. This is the version of me that I respect; this is the girl that I've wanted to be, the girl inside of me that stands for something even more solid and profound than my mind ever could recognize. This is the one you cannot fuck with. This is the girl you should fear. She's been a long time in the making.

It's something even better than I could have imagined. I don't think it's too late. I think it's right on time, it had to be now, it had to happen this way or it would maybe never happen at all... this is the storybook of my life, this is where the roller-coaster hit the top and it's all downhill from here, nausea included. This is where the wings are built, they are built on the way down. This is how you fly: not by leaping up and soaring, but by cliff-jumping.

I keep saying "your will, not mine. your will, your peace, your security, not mine." I'm not sure any of what I do now, since such prayers, is right. I don't know that it aligns. All I know is that it's not going to be perfect; it can never be perfect. I'll fight the best way I know how, and if there's no one else out on that field, then I'll go home. And I'll also learn how to not fight those closest to me.

It's what I've suspected, forever: that if it's comfortable, it'll do you in. "I encourage you to sit with what's uncomfortable," she said. Only I couldn't listen. This is a new kind of learning. Or really, this is learning, for the first time.

You could still ignore me.

You could still shut me out. That's that, then, I suppose. I had to try. I had to tell you that you were not alone, that you were there the whole time, that I was the one who couldn't see. I was too afraid. It's a radical way to look at things, but then again, what in life is not radical? What is it that doesn't deserve a miracle? The problem is when you're too stuck in your pain to realize that you've been forgiven all along. Vision, I am relearning. I don't think it's too late, I think it's right on time.

outside the pen

((((..."love, don't cry"...)))

if i face myself, as another,

it is even more an animal

outside of the pen

if i make myself proud about you,

you could move away from me.

the difference is i don't know.

(hush

because i'm too scared to ask)))))))).

i'm too smart for this, in life:

i have only learned a love

the way i am to you...

pay no attention

how you are to me

this is inconstant

it's not a tongue i understand

if you go because of me,

then do i suffer, so that

you are well enough to stay?

(((((knowing full well you are

one thing i do not get

and i get that i do not know)))

this is the sadness, always

and if it is not there,

i will force it in

where the skin is not broke

can you topple that?

i cannot lead

i can't even

this

sentence

I have learned

by the leaving of you

that it is to,

in your absence

find the point

in a sea of softness

and weak

(there can be no point found)>>>>>

i have evaporated

every new event

registering

blows the dust of me

off the table

i didn't feel the sadness with you

this is why i think

you'll stay

(forgive me

this is a day

too cut

around the edges

and too many shards

smashed together

in one match-box

I hesitate to write this.

When I tried it, I didn't think the aftermath would extend long, and far and low through days like a rope through frames in the water, like the thickest black branch with the bushiest, most deafening leaves that would just embracccceeeee me for hours, and hours, leaving the most sultry gashes on my face and arms and brain where the opening of skin to red flesh below is just fine please....

it punched a hole right through me

(if you stare hard enough

if you just pass your eyes over me

you can tell

can't you see it under my eyes?

it's dark and full like a pond

you could go swimming under my eyes

)

didn't you know? weren't you in my brain when I was over there?

or did you think we are separate?

I am in you, and you are in me

This is why your touch creates the desire on my skin

this is why you manifest from out of

every time we meet

and you touch my skin,

my skin awakens and remembers

'yes, we were in want of this finger here, and that tongue there'

and your hands, in my hair,

are in their proper place

i come alive under your hands

you blow the breath into me

this is what i didn't know i didn't know

Life Came Upon Me All At Once

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?

expense

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.

This Is To Mother...

You.

Gratitude and Prayer List (in no order of importance)

1. I am grateful for the chance to come home to my mom and my sister and my two dogs and relax with them.

2. I am grateful for peace of mind about him, and for all the negative thoughts, and the fury and the anger of last night, that filled me to the point of bursting, to have abated, after I prayed about it, and upon waking up this morning.

3. I'm grateful to have woken up in a good mood this morning.

4. I'm grateful that I found the building quickly, and that even though a voice was telling me to turn the other way, and that it was behind me, I kept walking forward and didn't even realize that I was headed in the right direction.

5. I am grateful for possible new beginnings.

6. I am grateful for good feelings and good vibes from new people and new places.

7. I am grateful that typing this out on a computer makes me think about the actual feeling of gratitude a bit more.

8. I am grateful for my sponsor.

9. I am grateful for my dogs, and for how cute and sweet and soft they are, and how excited they always are to see me, and how that love will never, ever go away.

10. I am grateful for my apartment but sometimes I am even more grateful to come to my mom's house.

11. I am grateful that he maybe read some of my last notes, and that he had had enough, and shut me off. I think that's a healthy thing to do, in light of my words. I would probably do the same.

12. So I am grateful to see that I cause a reaction in the world, be it for good or bad, though in this case, it was bad.

13. I am grateful for my friends: Aneeta, Meta, Lila, Mara, the list goes on and on....

14. I am grateful that my mom and Mara said "You have a different look about you, like, that you're not....so....I don't know...angry, or hard on yourself." So I'm glad that that could be seen on my face.

15. I am grateful that peace does not have to come at the expense of inaction, but is further fostered by acting well.

16. I am grateful that there are good feelings about him, in proportion to the good thoughts I think and the good feelings I have about myself, because for a long time, they all seemed incompatible.

17. I pray that one day soon he and I can reconcile. I'm not asking to reunite, but just to have each other in our lives, actively, and have forgiveness.

18. I am grateful for my hair straightener.

19. I am grateful for clean clothes this morning.

20. I am grateful for the clarity and good decision-making skills that come with recognizing that I have certain needs that are very basic, and that I hurt myself if I neglect or ignore those.

21. I am grateful that today was a good day, and that this doesn't mean that I will die tonight, but that I will wake up tomorrow, and have another chance to do good, right things. I know it will be a different day than today, but I can also make it a different kind of a good day.

22. I pray for his forgiveness, that I hurt him.

23. I pray for direction in life. I don't want to just float around. I want to have a target of which I am proud, so that I can be an arrow towards that target, and just fly like the wind.

24. I am grateful to know what is important enough to focus on, and

25. I pray to grow in awareness of those important things.

26. I am grateful for to-do lists.

27. I am grateful for my phone, but more than that, I am grateful that at times, I can turn the ringer off, and put it down.

28. I pray for his forgiveness.

29. I pray that I get my act together in terms of my health plan.

30. I am grateful for that sandwich from Lil' Guys.

31. I am grateful that though I was anxious about coming home, I told myself that I could just relax with it, and remember myself and the peace of today, and that I'd be able to be immune from it.

32. I am grateful that this worked, and that I have a hand in controlling my anxiety, to some degree.

33. I hope that I grow in this ability.

34. I am grateful that everything I wanted to bring fit in one huge bag.

35. I am grateful for a cab driver that was so chatty and animated that it made me think that if law of attraction is true, then I must be growing in health, to attract a cab driver like that, which is a great thing.

36. I pray for him.

37. I am grateful that I no longer think of R---, and that when I do, I am able to put his behavior in perspective.

38. I pray to be able to understand why I couldn't reconcile showing affection to her with having feelings for him.

39. I am grateful for the peace of mind that comes with feeling good about my life.

40. I am grateful for medication, and for an increase in medication.

41. I am grateful for people around me who are rooting for me.

42. I pray that feeling good doesn't mean complacency, or indolence.

43. I pray that I never have again have to go too far in order to know how far is too far.

44. I am grateful to understand the damage done when I don't express myself consistently, regardless of how the other person might react to it.

45. But even more than that, I am grateful to know that when something doesn't feel right, that I have a responsibility to move away from it, if I can't change it.

46. I am grateful for the Serenity Prayer.

47. I am grateful to know the amount of rage that I am capable of, and to let it out in a healthier, less-public way, next time.

48. I am grateful to understand, again, that when I lash out and hurt someone, I hurt myself, as well. I'd be willing to bet that I hurt myself more, actually.

49. I am grateful for attitude.

50. I am grateful to get tired.

51. I pray for more awareness of what I can change and what I cannot change.

52. I am grateful that I get to use good bath products tomorrow.

53. I am grateful for financial assistance from my mom.

54. I am grateful for repercussions.

55. I am grateful to hear my mom laugh.

56. I am grateful for her support and for her patience.

57. I am grateful for a really special meeting tonight.

I'm Gonna Make You Cry

WARNING: This piece contains adult themes, such as crying and masturbating. (Adults with the emotional age of) Children who have been allowed to participate in adult relationships are advised to see this, and we don't give a fuck if it's with or without an adult present, although we would suggest it so that someone can explain to you what is going on.

I'm gonna make you cry.

I'm gonna make you cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry some more.

I'm gonna make you cry,

and the next time you see my ass, you're gonna cry.

You're gonna wish you were going home with me and you're gonna wish you could get laid by me and you're going to wish that you could wake up to my sweet sleeping face and you're gonna wish that you could see my face again after that but you won't and you can't.

And you're gonna cry.

You're gonna cry about it.

You're gonna cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry until you run out of tears,

and then God is gonna find one more drop of water in your body and bring it up to your face, and then you are gonna cry some more.

You're gonna cry and cry and cry and cry and God is gonna suggest that you go get some Gatorade to replenish yourself and while you're at Walgreens you're gonna be so glad that you got out of the house, and that you got some fresh air, and you're gonna feel so proud for being so strong, but guess what as soon as you drink that orange Gatorade you're gonna cry some more, because even biology is on my side with this one and you're gonna cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry yourself to sleep and when you wake up you're gonna squeeze out some morning tears while you're thinking about me while you're laying there on your back, and you're gonna cry some sad baby crocodile tears, and while you're drinking your coffee, you may be able to hold back the tears, but guess what?

As soon as you get in the shower, you're gonna cry.

You're gonna feel the water on your face and it's gonna feel like your own hot tears and it's gonna remind you of crying and then you're gonna cry.

And then you're gonna cry some more.

And then you're gonna cry while you masturbate. You're gonna cry, while you masturbate, about me, in the shower. And you're going to think about how hot I am, and how you're never gonna find another girl like me, and how I was the best thing to ever happen to you, and how you can't get me back, and how you couldn't keep me, and how you're gonna be like this for a long, long, long time, and you're gonna masturbate about me, and while you're masturbating about me in the shower, you're gonna cry.

And guess what?

God wants you to cry.

God wants you to cry big, fat, juicy, salty-ass crocodile-ass tears because you were baaaaaaaaaadddd. You were soooo baaaaaaaaaddddd. You were so bad that you are gonna cry for 10 days straight and you are gonna lose 8 pounds from all the water weight going straight to your eyes and God's gonna clap his hands while He smokes a cigar in Heaven while you cry and cry and cry yourself to sleep.

You're gonna get out of the shower and you're gonna dry your face and you're gonna dry your tears that are mixed with shower-water and you're gonna feel good for about 47 seconds and then as soon as you brush your teeth and your face scrunches up into something like Cry Face, you're gonna cry some more, because it's gonna feel so good.

You're gonna cry about me as you brush your teeth.

You are gonna taste salty tears slip into your mouth and you're gonna taste the salt and the mint and you're gonna like it and you're gonna feel like a better person for crying, for crying into your mouth, into your toothpaste mouth, because it feels so good for you to cry, it feels so good for you to let it all out, let out all the stuff that you could never show and never feel and you're gonna feel like a really good guy.

But you're still gonna cry.

You're gonna cry.

I'm gonna make you cry.

Summit of what

This is nausea.

I prayed for clarity, and this is what arrives. Panic. Regret. Alarm. Sadness. Despair.

And a raw, uncooked, unaided climb up the mountain face to try to reach the summit.

The summit of what?

What is there a top of? It never ends, until it ends.

"Tidal waves don't beg forgiveness..."

cakewalk.

The door didn't give, initially.

I pushed against it and was instantly terrified that I would find her, crumpled on the floor.

This is what I've come to expect, on instinct.

To find a body, somewhere, when it doesn't seem to go right.

Which means that you have made it into my blood.

As I returned to bed last night, it hit me.

This is what I was spared.

Your dad took the hit for me on finding your body.

Because we ended, your father now has an image burned in his memory that would have otherwise been mine.

Had we stayed together - if things had gone the way I'd planned, and we'd been married - that would have been me.

And that's something I'm not sure I'd ever have been able to recover from.

Finding you, seeing you would have fortified the guilt, would have magnified it into something undeniable, irrefutable, inescapable to my mind.

It would have been the image.

That's what would have sealed me off.

It would have been me taking your limp body in my arms, and holding you, and crying over you, to no effect.

I was saved.

I was saved from hell in California by your death.

I was saved from an even greater grief when you left me, a year before.

The first loss of you was a great pain, but your death was the greatest pain.

And yet you saved me from something even worse.

And for that, for the gauntlet you have put me through, I must stop, and say thank you.

The priest had said, "Remember these stages of grief; the shock, the despair, the anger, the tears. Think about them as you're processing them, and write them down, so that when it happens again, you can be prepared."

When it happens again...

Your death is the benchmark against which all other pains will be measured.

Not this pain from that, and not that pain from this.

Not the loss of him, not the death of her, not the end of yet another, not the disappointment from yet another failed relationship...

It hurts, and I hate to think of those around me hurting, but I don't hurt as much, after you.

It is all a grazing.

A glimmer.

A deflection off the surface of my chest that doesn't get absorbed, except in the rare moments when it does, and then I am sick with grief.

And even then, it is a pin-drop in the deafening sound of your absence.

(But I'm also not asking for a challenge.)

For that, I must say thank you.

If I can survive your death, then everything else is a cakewalk.

She passed away this morning.

I'm concerned for my mom, and her pain hurts me, but the fact of it doesn't hurt.

Everything else compared to you is a cakewalk.

Beer and rockets

I loved you. I couldn't admit it. My actions proved this, and you know that. I don't know what you thought, but I know what you didn't think. But it's okay.

I want to rocket right out of the universe. I want to learn guitar, write songs, and become a rock star at local venues while I keep a day job. I want to be 60 years old with huge rolling waves in my hair and wear shiny sparkly swinging 50's party dresses and jeweled cowboy boots and play at cocktail lounges on a nostalgia tour. I want to sing until my voice runs dry and I want to give back all that I've perceived.

There is such an incredible energy when two spirits meet who operate on the same frequency. When that harmony doesn't exist, both of you can feel it, and it's a struggle. Yes, love can be work, but it actually isn't, at all. Not fucking at all.

It's nothing you can arrive at by thinking yourself to. It's something that would just happen naturally, like a force in the universe, written into its code, like gravity, or electromagnetism, or respiration, or mitosis. It would just happen. It is action, it is movement, it is a line drawn because one thing was done and another was not. This is how you can tell the nature of a person's character, and what, literally, comes out of them when squeezed, and what they are when at rest, and what they are when in motion.

I cannot fucking believe that two of them accused me of not having much going on, and used it as an excuse for their own behavior. Is it insecurity on their parts? Did they have their eyes closed to my situation? And why? Well, we all know why. For the past two years, I happen to have been in a period where I can't do much. Literally, am incapable. I have survival at hand. But this was all known on your part from the beginning. So the question I have for both of you is, why the FUCK did you waste my time? THAT'S on YOU. And you fucking know it.

I'm so sick of treating men as charity cases. Of silencing the best parts of myself to make them feel more at ease, more secure, more wanted, more attended to, more more more and all I became was less less less. "There are no victims, only volunteers." You're goddamned right about that. It's over. From now on, they can bend around me. I want to leave them all in the fucking dust.

The only reason you would ask "You're used to being the dominant one in a relationship, aren't you?" is because your last girlfriends were doormats. And you fucking know it. And that shit is on YOU.

Man, I love beer. I never, ever, ever used to drink it, I hated it, hated the taste, the feeling, everything. Now, I actually get thirsty for it. My AA friends would probably tell me to watch the eff out for that, but I'm cool. It's a great taste. I'm glad to have spontaneously developed it all of a damn sudden.

I went to my apartment tonight after having spent a few days at my mom's house. My place smelled...stale. Absent. Absent of me, of human life, of human breath, and human interaction in a basic manner: the smell of shampoo and shower gel having been wafted through steamy air; the absence of the smell of my perfume. It's sad, when people aren't around. This applies on so, so many levels. I miss my people.

(untitled)

I didn't choose the ones that I knew.

The ones that I chose I sought because I did not know, but I suspected, and I needed to be certain.

If I had chosen the ones that I knew, I would not now be here; I would be in a different place, and I would think a different thought, and I'd look back at the canvas and say, "I was wrong, and it is a good thing. I was wrong about them. I am so happy that I was wrong about my life."

But I pushed it all over the edge. I chose the uncertain; the unknown. Or really, the ones that I thought I could prove wrong. Every single one, every single time, I backed it up to the edge of the cliff, until I pushed it over. I was all wrong. And I was the same kind of wrong.

If it looks shaky, knock it over.

Now, nothing that was uncertain is left standing.

13 but so much more

1. i wish that i could co-star on "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." that is a funny-ass show, even after non-stop viewings, whether drunk or sober, sad or happy, or anything in between.

2. after 15 years of indulgence in alcohol, as of yesterday evening, i've actually developed, all of a sudden, a taste for beer. it's good stuff. minus the gas.

3. i don't know what's going to happen. all i know is, you've gotta draw a line. unconditional love only hurts you, if you don't get it in return, as a condition.

4. i still wonder about that fucker. i don't know why. i wish i didn't. but i still do.

5. this is where specific, localized lobotomies get my two thumbs up. waaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyy up.

6. "so filled... so filled for you!" is perhaps the funniest shit i've heard in, oh, a decade.

7. california is looking pretty good about now.

8. he's right. there may not be a lot going on. but that doesn't mean he's perfect.

9. and no, i'm not afraid to say that.

10. really? now? really?

11. if this were a decade ago, but i were still 29, i could totally see a pill addiction in my future.

12. i wish someone would watch that movie with me so we could have inside jokes with it together the way that he and i did. but no one will. big fucking boo-hoo. i'm serious.

13. i sure hope this internet lasts.

The Sin of Indifference

"Rooted in our tradition, some of us felt that to be abandoned by humanity then was not the ultimate. We felt that to be abandoned by God was worse than to be punished by Him. Better an unjust God than an indifferent one. For us to be ignored by God was a harsher punishment that to be a victim of His anger. Man can live far from God - not outside God. God is wherever we are. Even in suffering? Even in suffering.

In a way, to be indifferent to that suffering is what makes the human being inhuman. Indifference, after all, is more dangerous than anger and hatred. Anger can at times be creative. One writes a great poem, a great symphony. One does something special for the sake of humanity because one is angry at the injustice that one witnesses. But indifference is never creative. Even hatred at times may elicit a response. You fight it. You denounce it. You disarm it.

Indifference elicits no response. Indifference is not a response. Indifference is not a beginning; it is an end. And, therefore, indifference is always the friend of the enemy, for it benefits the aggressor - never his victim, whose pain is magnified when he or she feels forgotten. The political prisoner in his cell, the hungry children, the homeless refugees - not to respond to their plight, not to relieve their solitude by offering them the spark of hope is to exile them from human memory. And in denying their humanity, we betray our own.

Indifference, then, is not only a sin, it is a punishment."

(On the commemoration of Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday, a few excerpts from a speech given by Holocaust survivor and author Elie Wiesel, originally expressed at the Seventh White House Millenium Evening, Washington, D.C., April 12th, 1999. Transcript provided by the awesome book, "Speeches That Changed the World: The Stories and Transcripts of the Moments that Made History.")

74 Days Ago

it has been a life spent
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
between eyelashes.

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
not exhausted.

Drought

It's been a while, since I've been struck by something.

I don't know why, but I have my suspicions: enlightenment arrives at those who are searching, and I've got my head in the sand. I guess I am not even looking around.

I made a painting, that I'm very proud of, for the first time in months. I did it last night. I woke up at 2am after sleeping for four hours, and read some of my previous writing because I couldn't fall back asleep. I forgot a lot of what I had written. I remembered that I had forgotten what it was like to arrive at something special; to realize something hard, to have it hit me, hard.

It's strange to me, how the drought arrives so slowly and yet all of a sudden, and it's hard to even remember what it was like when it was raining.