lazy . . . but kinda revealing

AIGH - maybe one of these days someone can tell me why my italics and bold sporadically don't show up.

i wanted to post poetry today. i found these and they actually aren't far off from my current state of things.


I'm tired
I mean TIE - AHHHD

of my yo-yoing BCP hormones
without the privilege of bareback
of pretending to work
of charming people in and then
repelling them with nuerosis and apathy
of the nuerosis and apathy themselves
of not feeling safe
of living in alternating states
of fastidiousness and squalor
of the flicker of the tv
of constant daydreaming
of just keeping above water
of not wanting what i wanted
of looking outside myself
and picking apart the inside

of insomnia
_________

Days have become gray dismal and gaudy
Boston's se of cranes
In the never ending pursuit for better highways
I've begun reading Bukowski for the solace

To work and home; home and work
Each door locks the sound
Of everything I haven't done
And driving is the low level
Angst of stop and go
With sharp shorts of
Near collision breathing
________

and one just cuz it tickles me

pebble and rain
and a watching window pane
a time to read what you sew
words like fabric and maize
i'm hardly ever openly sane

eh - come on now - it beats hearing about my day

the scifi channel is insane

you know a lot of people spend a great deal of time telling me about me. or commenting about me in my presence. more so than most people i know. for some reason i tend to invite this kind of commentary. anyway, most of it tends to center around things like "no one tells her." and yet somehow they seem to miss the irony that they are in fact standing there telling me while i say nothing. i mean seriously people - do i look like i'm in control of my life? do you think i hand picked this?

anywhoo - remember that letter i wrote serena? never sent it. i don't know why i do that. probably the same reason i never call anyone. what can i say - i suck.


two poems:

poem untitled one:
Empirically today is no colder
But the air is a sharpened blade
Smelling of nothing but the nothingness
And those memories we insulate with

The physical stagnates so that the meta can viciously abort itself

poem untitled two:

the echo of my heartbeat
is the silence of yours



ironically, poem one is the one i feel is missing something. it takes a huge leap. it's as though i am afraid to commit to its depths.

that is all - you are dismissed. and next time bring cake!!

the moral of the poem

when i was in college i wrote the following poem and subsequently performed it a few times - i don't mean read it; i mean *performed* it. stayed tuned after - my point here is about the poem not the poem itself. one final thing - while it pains me greatly i will not be editing this.

What Do You Call It?

When at fourteen a man asks for your number and he's twenty five you are supposed to be too flattered to refuse and later you try to explain you can't go out with him and he says int he child's offended voice, "Whatever, I just figured I could take you out and show you how to treat a man."

You would think you might learn to stick up for yourself.

Especially whent htat same year a man of twenty seven hits on you and your mom and friend assure you he's, "being friendly, it's cute" and then he corners you and, while his hand weaves in the chain on your not yet breasts, asks you for drinks so you tell him how old you are and he says, "So you don't drink beer?"

At this point your voice should burst out of you.

But you've gone mute to the point that on your sixteenth birthday you get to make out with (Omigod) Billy Sutherland who spends the whole night tryin to wrestle into your pants and then storms out and you laugh nervous embarrassment trying to shake his words out of you head, "You aren't very responsive."

Oh, you want to be angry.

You would be if only you weren't consued with such shame that later that year your boyfriend, the man of your dreams, raped you and you couldn't even call it that, sure this was different from all that media hype - after all, he was _the one_, and you could still hear his voice echo in soft cadences of "I love you."

You didn't think you could get hit again. Bang.

You are the perfect target and your next boyfriend, the real soulmate of your life, who you are positive is different drives you to college, kissees your cheek and actually admits that he was so threatened by your leaving he thought about "getting you pregnant, so you would have to stay and marry me."

Which is so insane, it's surely time to protest.

But you don't cause waves not even when some post pubescent crawls all over you with what he considers poetic seduction and fumlbes around causeless not paying the slightest bit of attentio to your reactions or lack thereof, comes in spasms and rolls over to ask, "Did I do you up or shall I continue?"

The word no is in your vocabulary - use it.

But it's always easier to say yes and when a man you barely know asks you to go for a drive you don't want to be mean so you climb in his car and things go as things go and he sucks your breast as you detach yourself from it and give it over for the simple price of a smile and "I'll call you"

I am positive you could attempt being rude.

But there aren't words in our programming. There is only some nameless passivity of discontentment we find clawing at our sternums, company to the doubt that we will stop it next time and the paralysis of knowing hat there will be a next time. But mostly there is the fear of wondering if the next time will follow, "I do."

my favorite thing about this poem is that one of the stanzas was about a guy in the poetry class and i got to read it to the class with him sitting there. what can i say - what i think is funny . . . actually little side story my favorite poem i ever wrote for that class was a collection of all the bizarre shit that people in the class had said. but i have dIgressed; back to my point.

so after the first time i performed it - or maybe it was the last. or maybe it was both come to think of it. anyhoo - a whole crapload of women came up to tell me how they could relate and i gave voice to their experience yadda yadda yadda. i'm sorry - i don't mean to yadda yadda but it was soooo heavy on the victimization and the what has been done to. i agree there was definitely that element to it but what really annoyed me is that the BIGGEST message was personal responsibility. the idea of what we allow. i get that the other stuff was there and all but no one seemed to click on for even a minute that i was criticizing the "you" that i was addressing. very annoying.

that's it. that was my whole point. just didn't feel like talking about politics or gideon or my . . . well, i always want to talk about my kid.

goodnight and good luck

yawn. you see i say yawn because when i actually yawn you don't get it

when that kid sleeps he ain't messing around. i just went up and changed him while he was sleeping - turned on the light; took him out of the crib; took off the sleeper - lots of wiping and then back into the crib.

so i'm a little pre-occupied; both with the stomach cramping (what the hell is this all about - it seems to happen more and more) and with this poem that i am trying to edit for submission.

Meditations on Meditation

It slaps the skin
Where it begins
The tempo fret
Reaches nothing yet
Pushes straight in
The sternum worn thin

Grab the vessel
Squeezes the pump
Selling what few are willing to
Invest in

Let it go, let it flow
On the wave of the bass
Bounce off the drums
Piercing arrow of low, low, low -
Low down and dirty
Reach down low
For the next thing it
Becomes
Reach down low

for the next line
It hums

It hums
It hums

The hum that joins us
Fast, fast, fast, furious
Clench and release
Clench and release
Always it's these

My skin vibrating from the bubble of blood
Fast rushed running through
Never expected

I found my stomach where I never thought to look
Right next to my heart
itself an unexpected stone

Not in the ether
Not where the wind whistles
Not where whispers ride dandelion spores
But right here

HEY - RIGHT FUCKING HERE

In the vein
Where blood is boiling
Where stroke and throb
Take off like horse hooves
Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomping
Building up toward a full stampede

Hot pulsed tempo
Hits a snare, a snare
Hot pulsed tempo
Red and white glare
Heat gathers heat
Scorches like ice

Hitting up on the crux of it
Rubbing the under-belying
Scraping the roe off
Bursts and pops twixt tongue and tooth

Introduce and anoint
Simul atque

Can't shake this state
Floating apart
Feet planted firm
My spine, my shoulders
My . . . my . . .
Where does it start?
Manan rolling from somewhere
Search, search, seek
But find the source to what end?
You may kneel at its feet
Not be its friend

This is the way my heart beats
This is where I am complete
The vibrating whir becomes a pound
A bleating, a bleating, fleeting sound
Reminders, knocking, knocking
This is not where it ends
This is just plateau

Not because it isn't real
Not because it's only 'feel'
Rather
That's all there is

The movement of the wheel
Climbs and plummets, plummets and climbs
And interruption of plateu vistas
Time to rest and bask
Respite from the questions we ask

Let the circle be complete
Let the circle be complete

gotta get the passport pictures tomorrow. gotta do a lot of stupid shit tomorrow.

so i was just sitting here thinking about crying - not, as in thinking 'i think i'll cry' but just thinking of it the anture of it and what it means blah blah blah. i have this half joke of a theory that depression is because you have to flush all the tears out of your system periodically. anyway, then i remembered the scrubs epirsode where kelso says he is dehydrated from crying. so that makes me curious and honstly this is how i know all the weird little things i know ( and nothing partciularly useful) . someone says something i find interesting, confusing or intriguing and i am research girl. so i look it up. must be asked a lot because it actually pops up as a question before i even start the third word. the first hit is a link to yahoo answers q. can you become dehydrated from crying a. if you are crying that much dehydration is the least of your worries hahahahaha

i just noticed that my computer seems to be randomly missing words i've typed in very bizarre. hopefully i have fixed them all.

have i mentioned that i hate our cats - well, two of them anyway - the two i didn't raise up from kittens.

alright; i'm a done deal. i keep nodding of and being all twitchy and mistyping and also, writhing in stomach agony. bed should solve both of these things so

two birds one ston and . . . BOOM . . . yummy bird soup.

spent

i'm still sick. maybe more so. and i've typed three or four emails and a long im which have all left me . . . as i said. plus truth be told i'm annoyed. but the following is NOT what i'm annoyed about and should be read in a matter of fact (perhaps slightly dark humoured) tone of voice.

ya know what's ironic? i take my friendships and my actions in them very seriously - i've made a pattern of that for quite some time. no, that isn't the ironic part. when i was about ten or eleven i had a conversation with my mother. i told her i didn't need anyone. she was very concerned felt that i was detached etc. but i said / was trying to say there are people i like having in my life/want in my life but i don't *need* anyone. she spent a long time - that day and a lot of other days unwittingly convincing me that i needed other people to a kind of severe degree as well as a few other twists to that - eventually convincing em that something horrible will happen if people aren't there for me. i don't have enough blog space to explain the depth of crap in that idea or the thousands of ways i have disproved it.

now, before i go any further, the message of this is NOT to criticize my mother she didn't understand what i was saying to her and i was her kid and she was worried.

now, back to the irony, so here i am this person intense in my friendships but the truth of the matter is that *at heart* i am more or less a drive by friend. not that i don't connect - i like to connect / i'm good at it but then i like to sorta keep moving. which is actually pretty well proven by all the friends that i either didn't or barely kept in touch with. there are -wow- there is almost no one that i have kept in touch with for more than ten years in a row. i'm more fickle than even i thought. so there you go.

so that was the ironic part. now for the random thought part - some days i really wish i could just not interact. at all. grrrrr

but for both the irony and the randomness - i suppose it's too late to change my stripes now especially since my only childness makes me realize that when my parents die - that's that.

all of that contrasts against the intensity of connecting with my boy. yep. it's a good thing. the boy fell asleep on me today and it's the best. and not cuz he's all warm and toddlery and happiness and smells better than bread. but what's really cool is that he has that sense of comfort in me. that i am able to do that for him - that he is content to pass out on me like that. that he seeks me when his world needs a temporary fix. i'm all non-jelled jello just thinking about it.

here's another poem. although this one sucks a bit but it's new so there's that:

only the bottom, the end, the full stop
when no final jerk is coming
(well, there's always some jerk coming)

but the dirt nap,
pushing the grass
only that is the end of hope
er, i mean despair
no difference;
one always living inside the other
interchanging places
like jung's kaleidoscope
the blood bubble of yin and yang

are we clinking glasses
or slamming them over?

only the long sought sod sleep
ends the desire

o, god, let it end the desire


here's another thing - i'm willing to bet you consider that a mostly if not entirely dark poem whereas i consider it mostly funny. OH

Also . . . I can kill you with my brain.

did anyone else see that truck

the one that hit me. i'm fricking exhausted. i've slept most of the day and literally done nothing else the rest of it and if i stand up for more than a few minutes . . . in fact, i have lots of thoughts but i have no idea how many words i will actually be able to type

so ironically a certain someone made some actual points; mm, not points but real facts. i concur there is a state that can be reach where one interacts with a spiritual world. and in fact yoga is a pathway; course that needs to be sought after and worked on believe me it doesn't happen just cuz you decide to touch your toes. we part ways on the what that means as well as what eccles actually said and meant. but in the strictest sense it isn't worth discussing.

needless to say i didn't make it to yoga tonight but it wasn't because i was dissuaded :)

i'm eating cookies and drinking peppermint tea. i've eaten a lot of crap today. sigh. chocolate even - kim can tell you how weird that is.

i started a poem yesterday - it's horrible but eh:

my mind wiped clean
smooth as walls
flat and unchallenging
why clog up the cells
when there's an overgrown soul
Begging for more

hard spiraled band of pain
dotted between throat and heart
a simple fingertips worth of pressure
on my clavicle could shatter the silence
send the teeth to chatter

his is the name sits on my tongue
with my mouth glued shut
in the early morn
a stretch; a yawn
and i've pushed his face
out of my mind

my mind wiped clean
smooth as walls

seriously though why don't you guys get the wonder of joss whedon. i think my next project will be to assemble some of his greatest quotes. the mastery of language just kicks

my son has still not fallen asleep - he is in his crib blowing raspberries and giggling to himself.

cookies are calling

Also . . . I can kill you with my brain.

i'm multicrastinating

i have to do a shitload of work and this stupid blog . . sigh i want nothing to do with any of it.

when we were sixteen - well, i was - gideon wrote me a letter; a card - wtf ever. he told me to stay gold ala robert frost / the outsiders. i actually had the poem imprinted on my grandmother's death cards (um, what are they called) certainly not because of that just because . . . well, here's the poem if ya don't know it

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
so dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

anyway, some years later i wrote a letter to gideon - i was newly returned to new england and he was still in lawrence, kansas. i must have brought that up - i don't remember what i wrote to him but judging by his response i must have been afraid that i was losing my green / gold. he told me that more than anyone he knew i had held onto it but that if i needed to change my hue then i should do so . a very very dear friend wrote me today in response to the poem i posted yesterday and said " . . . the child in you shines brightly still. You have yet to admit defeat." what is that do you suppose?

so the answer to your question kim is for a long ass while. just writing that much i had to walk away for about a half hour and that wasn't even supposed to be about him.

so here's today's poem - well, not that i wrote it today. and no it isn't about him . . . well one line might be i don't remember but all over no:

He taught me
To separate my emotions from his
He taught me
To take it with a grain of salt
He taught me
To take it without asking
He taught me
To take it how I could get it
I taught him
To take it like a man

It's not a great poem but it amuses me to no end.

alright then - i have to go do someone else's work. cuz that's what i do in this near useless life i have created for myself. can't quite cover my own ass but somehow i excel at covering other people's - so if you need your ass covered i'll be there

Also . . . I can kill you with my brain

cuz truly i have not one other thing to say

actually, i do have other things to say but i fear they may be too intense. not that i'm adverse to saying intense things or even depressing things. but i like to be i a good enough frame of mind to gauge how much and how to phrase. today is not that day. so we'll save that for later.

so, i'm in the midst of a dilemma. see i don't really feel ready to have another child right now, more precisely i'm not ready to be pregnant right now. on the other hand, i'm pretty much out of time so time to fish or cut bait. and my relationship might not be in shape for it either but ya know; i've sorta come to the understanding that my destiny doesn't include that kind of petaled pathway.

wow. this is getting dark heavy anyway.

ya know the sad thing with this whole being fat thing is that i'm really not at the moment. i just look bad. ya can't squeeze an inch of fat on me except for my stomach. which brings me back to my post from a little bit ago - i need a boob job. i have taked to two other people who agreed with me on this. you have bigger boobs - your figure looks more hourglass so it's okay to have a little belly. maybe after the aforementioned possible baby to be i'll get some giant boobs. be easier than losing weight - apparently!

i have to plan my vacation - like now. i have some thoughts about going to michigan. and a rough plan to go to south carolina/north carolina/virginia. i have eight days to use before the end of march. and somewhere i have to squeeze in a second pogues concert. they are touring from march 4 until the 21 - maybe i should just take three weeks off.

so i suppose i should start putting a piece of poetry in every once in a while, huh?

It comes up on me; Sneaks up stealthy
Though Goddess knows, I’m not healthy

The gnawing and scratch;
The ache for more
Open the door
Can’t get enough
(Frickin whore)

Paste this hole
The piece someone stole
That I can’t find

Is it in my heart? or in my mind


alright kids - ya'll sleep tight - remember i love you and


Also . . . I can kill you with my brain

LUSH

ha! you were seduced by the title weren't you!? ha! lush is just a soap shop. twelve years ago it was in london and they didn't have any "stateside stores". the stuff is fantabulous.

so i had a million thoughts in my head - something about turkey sausage is all i remember. but everything got hijacked by the beginnings of a poem. a bad poem but a poem nonetheless

we talked our endless talks
skirted the issue of love
we held each other's hearts
but lacking proper courage
- - -then there is a line or two about the word never

so i have moved on to firefly. made my way through angel. i watched all but the last one. the last isn't really my favorite anywya. i was highly diappointed with how it ended. there are a little more than two weeks to dollhouse. i guess i will watch the interviews / special features.

sorry this is so short but i got home late and i'm running out of time / tomorrow should be longer i will be home most of the day

Also . . . I can kill you with my brain

NaNoWriMo

"National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30."

so that's what i'm doing. i'm telling you this because you are supposed to tell people. basically so that you are shamed into actually doing it :) do not expect to read this thing. i will tell you if i actually write it but no editing is supposed to take place until after it is written and well . . . don't expect to read it is all

you can't teach an old dogma new tricks - dorothy parker

first of all, before i forget yet again, Andrea - every time i see those new BK commercials with the cow chasing a guy who is eating chicken i think of you. as i said before i don't really have a moral issue with eating meat but it's a bit much that a cow is pissed you are eating a chicken sandwich?

but that's not why i'm here - i'm here to say that bugs don't belong in houses. i don't have a really big problem with bugs per se when they are OUTSIDE where they soooo belong. that said i think we have won the war of the fleas and are down to very tiny battles.

when i lived in KCMO, hereafter referred to as "God's Taint" and as stated in previous post that would be _your_ god not mine . . . mine has no taint :)

this god is your god, this god is my god
from the mighty sun ra, to thor's hammer
from red-haired brighid, to the christ messiah
this god was made for me and you

thank you - thank you very much i will be here . . . well, idk, for a while.

anyhoo, let me return you now to God's Taint. during part of my time served i lived on a streetnamed locust - best i can tell it was thusly named because that was the only bug we DIDN'T have in the house. course at that time i was well, sorta out of it headed into my nervous breakdown. that's about the only thing that kept me from losing it altogether. here's a little trick i learned though - bowl or plate of soapy water with a light right over it = flea trap.

so here's another thing that annoys me - when people say we have to save the planet. no, people, we really don't - what we have to save is our own asses. the planet like anything else seeks equilibrium and if we are the thing in the way of that then we will be the thing removed. capice?

They say that if you meet the Buddha
on the path - you should kill him

But before you do . . .

Ask him if he's got change for a dollar
No, no, understand I mean _change_
Ask him if there's change for
people minds
Ask him if war is necessary for
population control

Better yet ask him about him
And about HIM
Ask him what's important
Ask about heartbreak
If it's all free will or fate
About Chi and the Tao

On second thought
Give him my number
I'll kill him when I'm done

-----------------------------------------------------

It was too close to me
for me to see
Everyone else sitting around
watching and knowing
You were looking
direct through me
like I wasn't your girl

I said, baby,
Don't you understand?
Sometimes I don't want a man

And there she was -right there
crooked smile, tangled hair
something I wanted to be and to have
Couldn't you hear me

I said, baby,
Don't you understand?
Sometimes I don't want a man

I was tipping the velvet 2 - 3 times a night
saving the days to go straight
Then found you hanging 'round
where we knew each other best
Looking back at her

I said, baby,
Don't you understand?
Sometimes I have to have a man.
----------------------------------------------------------------

He taught me not to take it personal
He taught me to take it with a grain of salt
To take it without asking
To take it how I could get it
To take it on the run
I taught him to take it like a man.
---------------------------------------------------------------
I seem to be doing better now
Looking way respon
sible
I'm growing up
I'm motivated
Getting shit done
Broadening my horizons
Branching out
Living the high life
Lovin' every minute of it
Shouldering the burden
Getting there on time
Getting there
Making it
Exploring myself
Pushing my limits
Extedning my barriers
Knocking em down
Knocking em dead
Forging ahead
Beating a new path
Marching to the beat of my own drummer
Concentrating
Consternating
Contemplating - less and less
Yep I'm really on the ball
And have a pair
Still feel like shit
Pushing that voice aside
Say over and over
Make it through today
One day at a time
Whatever gets you through the night
whatever gets you off
whatever bursts your bra strap
Whatever