Monday, October 18, 2010


All my pieces bend out of shape and
I am left with my own contradiction.

I am learning to enjoy being alone.

Stitch my mouth with nylon string

and dangle promises in front of my

nose. There is no more sweetness in

a drop of honey and the words from
your tongue leave me sanguine and
panting. I have no place to lay my
cuneiform curls and nonsense is my
only language. Confounded by chant
I will beat my breast and flagellate
my faith and existence on a marble
altar. Depress the organ's pedals and
wheeze antique Hallelujah's from the
souls of the departed. Stained glass
depictions of purity first filled my eyes
with color and gave me the lenses
with which to see a prism of beauty.
Gregorian lugubriousness splits the
blue horizons outside my window and
the sailboats take themselves out to sea.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Decline and Fall

Dear -,
I am a coward and I freely
admit it. I wish I could tell
you the things set in motion
by a conversation you probably
don't even remember. I can
pinpoint the hour I lost all
respect for you. I can tell you
the words, the thoughts, the
realizations that hit me in an
instant. And I can bet you
probably missed it. I wish I
could tell you the hidden feelings
the veiled anguish, the deep distrust.
I wish I could tell you how I kept
quiet. I wish I could have told
you when the burgeoning thoughts
hadn't left my lips. I wish I could
tell you how beautiful it is to
be free, and how much you have
helped me realize my worth.
I wish that what we had could
have been real. I am slowly
but surely removing your poison.

Let the past lay dormant.
Let this be my piece.
Let you be happy.

No bitterness, no regret
We are new people.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

I am a stranger in a white tiled room
there is a bed and a chair and a shelf
And a brain, mottled and bruised, grooved
but still and filled with formaldehyde, where
resistance is cushioned, leather straps
leave no survivors but the deluded while
Nurse Ratched runs her slaughterhouse
and raises headless, blind chickens
with their meat full of pesticides
And me.

Monday, October 4, 2010

"I just want noodles, fucking raining from the sky"

I feel the need to update, though how I can make myself translate my first few weeks in college to words is beyond me. I've crossed numerous (and often nefarious) items off of my bucket list and have fallen into a wonderful, beautiful coexistence with my girlfriend and ever-expanding group of indescribable friends. In allowing myself to be exactly as I am, I am building a creative posse that could satisfy any ridiculous school tenet. I am realizing the definition of true friendship and companionship, and have reached a level of camaraderie I never knew existed. No pretension, no trying, no settling- I am appreciated and truly appreciate everyone around me. I don't have to bite my tongue, I don't have to hold back, I don't have to keep quiet, and I don't have to succumb to my sense of obligation. I don't have to justify, I don't have to care, I don't have to pretend I agreed, and I don't have to subject myself to selfishness and triviality. I don't have to put up with it anymore.

I am intensely thankful. I've left my old life behind, and I have no intention of looking back.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

I speak in sighs and I cannot remember my name
You grab my feet and my balloon strings are severed
I won't decide for myself but allow me to be grounded

Friday, September 24, 2010


I will pluck the rasp from my speech
and the lies from my mouth
and enjoy the sweetness of strawberries again.

I will slough my cocoon, a caterpillar
waking from a restful sleep
and create gales with my flapping wings.

I will be the sky if you will join me
and if you will be my earth
and we will embark on our paths together.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010


I bite my nails and bide my time and wait for you to come through the door. I am 12, in a too-tight red shirt with slash marks on my thighs. I am alone, I am a mess, I am anxious. Did I do enough? Have I made my point?

I twirl my hair and sigh and ask you please to wait- I am the one that you adore. I am 13 in the backseat of a car, my innocence is on the table. I am ignored, I am defeated, I am deflated. Have you had your way yet? Is there something more you'd like?

I kick my feet and scream my haunts and wait for you to tie me to the floor. I am 14, in a fit of rage and throwing my mattress across the room. I am awakened, I am astonished, I am ablaze. Have you had your fill yet? Must you have my brain?

I beat my head and make up lies and know that I am all that you deplore. I am 15, in the depths and crevices of my soul, tar fills my bloodstream and spreads. I am toxic, I am vile, I am retching. Who the fuck do you think you are? My mother?

I ball my fists and earn my points and wait for you to let me go explore. I am 16, in a cornfield and a cage, my every move is documented for your files. I am repressed, I am corrected, I am analyzed. How does that make you feel? Where is your voice?

I wipe my eyes and shake your hand, but I can't hear I'm sorry anymore. I am 17, in a blue dress and heels, receiving hollow words of comfort for my loss. I am extinguished, I am expired, I am tired. Is he in a better place? How do I get there?

I find my legs and stand my ground and wait for my boat to leave this shore. I am 18, in an apron and play clothes, cleaning up after someone else's family mess. I am overworked, I am stressed, I am poor. Is this the life I want? Can I get away?

I lift my voice and cock my head and wait for no man- instead, I soar. I am 19, in my skin and first-day outfit, a touch of lipstick and I set out to meet the world. I am independent, I am proud, I am free. Who could hinder me? Who would dare to try?

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Altered Perception

Believe it or not, I've started to read the Bible again. Not because I'm rethinking my beliefs, quite the contrary. I'm re-reading the Bible in order to strip from it all the wisdom I can while leaving behind all the dogma and interpretation. I'm seeing verses with fresh, unaltered eyes and realizing the Bible for what it is: an extraordinary book of fables. It's incredible how many deities have the same back story- miraculous birth, exile to a different country due to a threat from the monarchy, etc. I'm able to appreciate Jesus the man, not the Christ, in ways I've never been able to. I love Jesus more now that I'm able to hear the wisdom of his words without them being tainted by the idea of divinity. Jesus the man preached about nobility, communing with nature, accepting all people in all walks of life, loving all people not because of their actions but because of their life. Like this ridiculous 'love the sinner, hate the sin' idea. It saddens me to know that Christianity has twisted the very essence of his message and made it into a force of evil in the world. And I know this might offend some of my Christian friends, but it shouldn't. None of my Christian friends are evil, just misguided. That's my opinion, anyway. It's also Jesus's, look here: "These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are but rules taught by men..'" Matthew 15:8-9
He's talking about the Pharisee's here, those who honor their traditions instead of the commandments of God. Eerily similar to our situations today: we stack up small handfuls of verses condemning homosexuality and ignore MOUNTAINS of verses about tolerance and equality and kindness. "You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge the other, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things." Romans 2:1

The passage then goes on to explain that those who live under the law and break it at the same time can't possibly be living under the law. Those who profess to know Jesus and have any hatred or stubbornness in accepting others are living hypocritically. They aren't really living under Jesus's laws, the laws of life. "Piously, you strain a gnat from your wine and proceed to swallow a camel." Matthew 23:24. Religion seeks to strain the gnats (homosexuality, abortion, etc.) while ignoring the camels (war, hunger, poverty, etc.) Jesus really is a light unto the world. He tells mankind how to live simply, naturally, and peacefully. If only centuries and centuries of men hadn't perverted his words! Jesus himself tells us to throw away the trappings of societal life and live free of worry and doubt. He tells us to go back to the land, allow ourselves to be a people who fully rely on God, the universal driving force of life. "Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself." Matthew 6:34. It's incredible. Here I am, philosophizing about life and trying to find the answers when this incredibly wise man has already thought about all of this. Smart guy, that Jesus. I mean, I don't worship him and I certainly don't base my life off of his words and ONLY his, but he had his head on straight.

So, the Bible as a text. I'm loving it.

Friday, September 17, 2010


I close my eyes and rest my
nose against your brow and
think "This is substantial." The
space between our mouths is
breakable and see-through. Our
heads bend together and we
collect stars in our pockets.

We keep our tears in buckets
and water the seeds of our
lima bean hopes and dreams.
We stomp in puddles and
create aqueous islands with
our toes. Our heads bend
together and we collect
sunshine in our pockets.

We ask and pause and start
and go. Soft, velvet flower
petals reveal their secrets
to me, whisper tiny beads
of comfort into my ears. Our
heads bend together and we
collect moonlight in our pockets.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010


I am caught in a cycle

Ins and outs and beginnings and ends all the same

Reasoning is secondary to emotion, bound ankles and wrists

Preoccupation with pain and seclusion

insomuch as I can proselytize

miraculous healing or acts of fate or careful determination

either way, I'm back at the start

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Short Poems

am too big
for my heart

snip away at
the edges 'til
it fits

make an
error, there
is nothing left.


Behind my eyes
lives a little man
with a little hat
and he sings in
my ears when I
can't fall asleep.


shaves away years of life from my
shoulder blades.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

My mind limps around you
Like my leg limps on her sprained ankle
Neither has ever healed

I am not as easily identified
As I have known myself to be, I prefer
Quietness of spirit

I have no pretty words
My fears are my failings and I'm sure
It won't mean much


Sometimes you just feel low. Sometimes you take a slow, even breath and find that the rasping inside of you's death and then you just sit with your fit and equip yourself for restitution, destitution makes us sorry.

Sometimes you just feel spite. Bitter excuses contrite like confession, my worldly possessions are yours for the taking, you're making me sick with your shtick. Cut it out! Scream and shout, you're not my mother.

Sometimes you just feel shame. Twisting the sound of your name til it stings with the ring of a thing that is broken and mangled and tangled with feelings of derision. Please trust my decisions and know that I'm all right.

Sometimes you just feel pain. When there's nothing to gain then there's something to lose, these shoes don't fit. Two left feet, but I'm sweet and I'm trying to change and be tough, if not quite good enough.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

I Fell Into A Dream

I was caught without an umbrella when the rains came, so naturally I was swept off to Sea and never heard from again. I imagine it pained my parents for a while, wondering where I'd gotten off to. Eventually, the police would come to the conclusion that I'd been kidnapped and my parents would be mollified. My sister never believed I'd been taken, though, and in the end that might have been my salvation. My sister liked to braid her long blonde hair into ponytails and swish them in my face when I annoyed her. My sister liked pea green soup. My sister had more curiosity than she knew what to do with, and when she finally got wind of Things, she packed up her trunk and came after the rains and me, but that's another story.

The Sea is a very calming place. It isn't the Baltic or the Mediterranean or any place of the World, but it is wet and it is large and it is easy to get lost. I must have spent three days on the Sea before I bumped into anything of Consequence. The first Consequence I bumped into was stranded on an iceberg in the Sea, galumphing walrus tears into the great wetness about him. "Why are you crying?" I asked, unsure if the Consequence could understand my speech. But sure enough, the Consequence cocked his head and bristled his great whiskers and stared into my eyes like he was searching for the question I should have asked him instead. As if I had lost a great opportunity, he lowered his head and shuddered his body off the boulder of ice into the water. The shine of oil-slick crested his thick back as he propelled himself into the darkness of movement. He puttered out and formed a wide circle, then turned around and stopped in front of me. I didn't imagine I would be offered a more clear invitation, so I waded into the greasy water and threw myself onto the wide, pitted, scarred expanse of his body. I wondered if he would take me back to the World, but our heads dipped under the water and I found myself breathing in oxygen through a small space behind my eyes.
"What separates humans from animals?"

Arrogance. Nothing more, nothing less.

Addendum: I have been eating better, exercising, and really taking care of my body for the first time in my life. I feel fresh, healthy, and lighter by 20 or so pounds since June.

Friday, September 3, 2010

The world makes me sad

'Should have' is an illusion. 'Should have' implies that there was ever going to be another universe where the decision you made is anything other than the one you made. 'Should have' implies that there is any more point in asking what to do. 'Should have' implies that 'what is' is less than what it has turned out to be. And then there's the business of how 'what is' came to be. Nothing is fundamentally everything and everyone is nothing? Everyone is something? Something is everything? All things are everything and everything is wonderful? How many somes and things and everys and ones are there? How many different combinations? We are all anything when we have something. We are all nothing and we mean everything to anyone. We are all something to someone. We are all everything to someone. We are all nothing to someone. No one is everything to everyone. Where does it stop? How many ideas, how many philosophies, how many trial-and-error processes does it take to stop asking questions? Even if I am everything to someone or nothing to anyone, it doesn't have any effect on 'what is'. Then there's the great 'what's next?' That one is my favorite. This world, this intricate world teeming with life and beauty and enjoyment and green trees and pomegranates and ribbons and music and seahorses falls short of the scope of our incredible human perception and we stare at the sky. Everyone I ask has an opinion on 'what's next?' but I am hard pressed to find someone who actually knows what they're doing with their life. THEIR LIFE. Lives are spent wasting away after paper representations of wealth and futility. Lives are spent chasing youth, beauty, adventure, excitement. Children these days are born with their eyes firmly shut and truth ferreted away with as little ceremony as a smack on the ass.

If I were ever to have children, I wouldn't teach them the value of the dollar or how to please a man in the sky with a giant book to record all the things we do wrong. I wouldn't teach them that people are inherently evil or stupid or imperfect. I would teach them that all is as it is, and that there is no higher comfort than that. With faulty expectations, this place can make cynics of us all.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

I am stretching myself
The dull pain of progress
Like early morning stiffness
Remember to breathe

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

When the world is too loud and my head can't make sense of it, I go into my bathroom and close the door. Swiftly, I undress and run a very hot bath- as hot as my skin can manage. Naked, I scour my body with acidic standards. When I've stared my face into an unrecognizable shape, I flick off the lights and sink into scalding oblivion. Slowly, toe by toe, I lower myself into the inhumane temperature and feel my muscles melt. Tendons turn jelly, bones heat up and nerves release comforting waves of tingling coercion. Thighs, hips, belly, breasts, shoulders, head, ears, eyes. Water closes over my body like a floating coffin. The thickness rests in my ears and silence in my eyes draws attention to my breath. I listen to my heartbeat and lay still.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

If I wait long enough, cracks of light seam the darkness of my solitude and I am stepping through the doorway of velvet imagination. My vision fractures into prisms and the whole of light is exposed for the colorful amalgam it is. The world is slow and hazy like a Sunday afternoon. My heartbeat ticks on my sleeve keeping metronomic watch. I am too big for myself and my soul squeezes through my fingers. Inner quiet houses me, keeps me in place and intact and away from extraneous bother. My brain is engorged and clatters around my skull, what a headache.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Identity Theft

Serial numbers named me
Advertisers claimed me
Expectations framed me
Society has maimed me

Close every door
j'adore, stamp the floor
close your mouths, open your minds, explore
Cool water runs over your eyes.

Contort the contract, contact and connect
create, calibrate, deviate, subjugate
Belief is suspended like acrobatic religion.

Cactus pricks in suit and tie
Kick down the barrier

Hello, city!

Greetings from this newfound urban woman. This woman crosses against the light, walks with confidence, and has already found an adorable, affordable eclectic Asian diner.

I'm ludicrously happy here in Chicago, and I can't wait for classes to start. I've already found some incredible friends and made some silly decisions. It feels freeing and wonderful. Just last night, I invited one of my new friends David over to drink some wine and have a conversation. And converse we did, about incredibly powerful things, for four hours. This is the sort of thing I used to talk about- "I can't wait to have meaningful discussions with like-minded people about things that really matter!" And now I'm doing that.

I feel that a lot, actually. Realizing that the things I've been looking forward to for years while in my dark places- these things are here. This awareness is both positive and challenging. I feel this intense need to 'live it up' that it's beginning to turn into pressure. I'm not a huge partier by nature, I feel more comfortable in small groups of people having intimate discussions or spending quality time together. I don't think the whole 'go-out-and-get-slobbery-drunk' thing is right for me. I also have already been exposed to alcohol for quite a while, and don't feel the need to find a party and get wasted like some other freshman around me do. I'm coming into college knowing what I want- I am a (mostly) whole version of myself, improving all the time with the growth of my knowledge and experience. I know what I want with myself and the world around me, and I know who I am. I'm entering this big life experience in a terrific place, and I'm proud of myself. I think my dad would be proud of me too.

I think about my dad a lot, especially now that I'm here. I didn't like that he couldn't see my off on my first day in my dorms. My mom's boyfiance, Steve (boyfriend/fiance/whatever the hell they call it), came to help unload and move in and see me off, which I appreciated a lot. He got all of my things out of the car and unloaded into my room within a half an hour. It was incredible. I liked that Steve was there. I mean, of course I would have rather had my own father there, but in the absence of that option, Steve is a wonderful guy to have around. I used to be pretty mad about my mom's relationship with him... but she is so damn happy. This version of my mom is the best version I've ever seen. I've always known her to be tightly wound with worry, tearing up at the drop of a hat and referring to her life as in "constant crisis mode". That woman was not a happy woman, and we were not a happy family. But now she is healthy and smiling and beautiful and shiny in this intense relationship with Steve, and I prefer that to an old, fading widow. I'm happy for my mother for being able to find two incredible loves in one lifetime, the lucky bitch.

Anyhow. I'm well, I'm happy, and I'm looking forward to the rest of where college and life are going to take me. By the way, I'm thinking of adopting the practice of radical honesty. Haven't decided yet, but as someone who has manipulated and lied for most of her life, I want to make a clean break from the girl who I used to be and leap forward to the woman I am growing into.

I feel like I have come so far and am so much I never was before.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Happy Birthday

My father would have been 50 today.

I remember talking to him about how long he'd live just a few days before he died. He was ordering his gift from his company celebrating 15 years of employment. Peering over his shoulder, I admired the gifts for 50 years of service. I asked him what he'd like out of those items, and he told he didn't think he'd make it to 50 years at HSBC. And then he said, "I'll at least make it to 50 years old. We can have a big party that I'll hate and get tired at and then I'll make everyone leave early so I can go to bed because it's my birthday and I'm half a century old."

I think of you every day, Dad, in all I do. I carry you in my heart, and it keeps me warm and strong. Thank you for everything you are and everything I am and all that you've created in me.

Monday, August 23, 2010

4:00 am

I didn't really want to chat, I didn't really want to watch him work out, and I certainly didn't want to watch him touch himself but four a.m. is not renowned as the greatest time to make decisions. I blame it on my sleeplessness. I haven't been able to get an ounce of sleep before five a.m. in days, and when I can't sleep, I get achingly lonely. I lie awake, sprawled over as much of my king-size bed as I can cover; the thought that I'm all alone in a bed made for two is gratingly pitiful. I may not be the type to strip over the internet, but this throb is painful enough to go looking for conversation.

He said hello and told me I was pretty. I thanked him. He asked me if I minded if he got naked. I hesitated. He told me that I didn't even have to show my face, just knowing I was there was enough. He told me that he hadn't been with a woman in years. He told me that his friend was arrested for child pornography. His profile told me he was 18, muscular, and a personal trainer. His blonde hair, blue eyes, good looks and All-American bone structure told me that he probably used a stock photo. He assured me that I was under no pressure or obligation to do anything or even be seen. He confessed that all I needed to do was say something. It had been so long, he was instantly hard at the sound of a woman's voice. I relented. He didn't have to know that I wasn't going to watch him do whatever he needed to do. I knew enough to know that he needed release, and I wasn't going to deny him. I pity the desperate.

He was not 18, he was not muscular, he was not blonde, he was not blue eyed, he was not good-looking. He had a small appendectomy scar above the waistband of his black boxer briefs that wasn't in the picture. I said hello and minimized my screen. I started talking- I told him my first name, my favorite color, my favorite movie, my favorite music, the things I hoped for my life. I tried my best not to listen to what he was doing, but the grunts became more obvious until they stopped completely. The silence punctuated the awkwardness of the situation until he began to cry slow, wet tears and told me about his wife. She died 5 years ago: breast cancer, quickened by lack of health insurance. They had lost their only son in childhood. He had no support system, no friends or family. He wept about the bitterness of his losses, his assertion that love was a once and only event for him, his fears about losing his job, his debt piling up to his eyelashes, his loneliness slowly consuming him with the same voracity that cancer consumed his wife. He wept for the things he imagined he'd have accomplished by now. He wept for the childhood dreams he spent too little time cultivating. He wept for the clarity he now had and the opportunity he squandered. He told me of his anger at the country that allowed his wife to die, the country who promised him so much and followed through on so little. He wept, and I listened. I told him that he wasn't alone- not in despair, not in solitude, not in anger, not in fear. I told him about my father. I told him about the music at his funeral and how I couldn't talk about him anymore, not really.

I asked him if he felt better and if he was still naked. I told him I'd like to look him in the eye, then I apologized for not telling him that I couldn't watch, that I didn't want him to exploit himself. I told him that he could just ask to talk from now on, if he liked, rather than try to lull me into conversation with boyish good looks and borrowed charm. He thanked me, and I don't think I'll ever forget what he said next.

"It's been a while since I was treated with such decency."

Sunday, August 22, 2010

I nurse my biggest hurts in secret and in quiet
Collapse upon myself, fold inward to the waves
Grief, grief beyond my understanding wrenches
Sobs from my ribcage and keeps my words hostage
I mourn for failure and for freedom, for growing up.

This utter devastation I feel is unexpected, and the gravity of all I've lost isn't lost on me. But somewhere underneath this blanket of tears and profound sadness is assurance that I've done the right thing. Even still, saying goodbye to someone I love is one of the hardest things I've ever done.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


I used to think I knew everything. When I use the past tense there, I don't mean that I now know everything. I still don't know everything. I just know now how little I knew then. I still know fuck-all, but at least I know that I now know nothing.

You know?

It's funny, that 'you know' is such a common phrase. How much do we really know, as a people? As a culture? How about in our own heads? How much do we know about the Universe or the Stars or Unicorns or The Things That Be, whatever they are or aren't. We know very little about how things are or how they came to be. Faith and other religious definitions have tried to overcompensate for this vast misguided chasm of misinformation. I can't claim to have knowledge of How Things Are or How They Should Be or Why They Are As They Are. I don't have any more answers than I used to. I just know that I don't know, and to me, that's all the difference. I'm not afraid any longer. It's amazing, the switch you feel when you realize that it doesn't mean anything will hurt you, curse you, strike you down from above if you admit that you do not know. Taking the leap is a great, liberating stride for independence.

I understand the people who prefer to be lulled to sleep by the story of society. I feel for them, I empathize. I do not pity or scorn, judge, deny, label, condescend to those who just can't open up beyond their limited perception. The trouble with these sorts of people, the people who tell you How You Should Be or What You Should Do or The Way Things Work find comfort in their nonsense, in their false sense of security. It makes the bad things that Bump in the night keep their heads down and toes together, knock-kneed and shy and retracting their claws. It's an ounce of control, that we might convince some great Deity to be kind to us if only we are Good Enough and follow the Right Way, the Way to Him, the Great and Powerful Reprieve from Nature. But we are not Nature's exception, we are no different from the soup be emerged from. We have no other matter, we have not created any life beyond that which was already here. There is no distinction from anything that can harm you, there is no Hope or a Savior.

Some people assume that this acceptance of futility means an acceptance of unhappiness. Not so. There is no misery in knowing, inconsequentially, that you are going to die. There is nothing so beautiful and perfect and serene as knowing that You are nothing more than a smudge of dust upon the Earth. We accept this as truth, that this is a lowly place in life. Smudges of dust have no more consequence than a single drop in the ocean. We think that accepting this means that there is no point to BEING that smudge or BEING that drop. I may be singular and remote and inconsequential, but my place in this world is beautiful and I can appreciate that and be grateful that that's all I have.

This is the Knowledge that comforts me, knowing that I can be small AND special AND ignored AND desired AND mortal AND fine with the concept of mortality. But I didn't always think this way. There were times, places when I couldn't say the things I can know say so assuredly. I did not always KNOW. There were times I thought I knew, and times I knew I didn't know... and there may yet be times I find that all I KNOW is lacking. There may be some higher understanding I'm not privy to yet, but that is another time and another story.

This is how I came to know that I know nothing, and that knowing that was knowing everything.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Openness soul exposing concavity brimming seawater
Viscous clarity provoking uselessness rapid fire truth
Anemic answers biting gristle swallowed rage emerges

Faithlessness burns internal futility growing fungal deepening lungs
Climb rungs of spindly caterpillar legs rippling malleable and menacing
Tilting tenderly tea leaves slip sweetness soft dewdrops on pure tongue

Contented confused darkness shadow day leaves no window open
Run afoul memory rations dose of withdrawal violent tendencies
Pretty times tinkling belief in incendiary fuse blown higher chaos

I know better now.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

For My Love

I flutter my fingers over the length of your skin and your frame
and I touch every inch of your body is calling my name and I'm
hungry to meet your bucked hips with my lips and I'm sure
of your sure hands as you deftly caress my soft kissable
breasts and you forget my flaws and make me forget who I am
As you are the only one parting from my mouth, please don't
part from my mouth and the sweetness of taste as we lay
gasping and grasping and grappling for purchase and
hold me with your breath and a giggle and tenderness
And you move as I move as we move and we touch and I am
overwhelmed by the thought of you consume my attention
with the unbearable vigor of being with you and in you in me
Come, lay my head against your chest and intermingle our tingling
limbs as we breathe and we sigh and we fall asleep, wake still in
morning to kiss me apart from my dream with a sigh and the nearness of you

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Natural Law

I am furiously shaking the bars of my cultural cage
in an attempt to break free from a prison where
the inmates don't know they're contained.

I bathe my sight of rosewater, my head pulled
like a cork, bobbing in the vast ocean of knowledge
a solitary trip, lined with melancholy and true longing.

There is so much to see, so much to love and understand
and hold dear to, if only I could only pluck out my eyes
and share them with those who are unfortunately blind.

We can rise like the glorious independence and rebirth of
the primitive anarchy in accepting that, underneath arrogance
we commune in life, we are not evolution's triumphant exit.

I take my place in the world as I strip naked the story of Man
And surrender my taste of forbidden fruit, I am ripe with
contentment, to be in the hands of the gods of the lilies.

I could be a rich woman

If I had a dollar for every time someone has said,
"We're complete opposites, but we get along so well!"
I wouldn't have to worry about paying for college anymore.

[ sometimes I wonder if there are only opposites of me ]

I mean, I don't mind standing out from the crowd. I really prefer it, actually, to being lumped together with the rest of mankind like a herd of cattle being sent to slaughter. I just get tired of being called crazy sometimes.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Thick black screams escape from my lips like toxic streams of biological warfare
Bitterness housed on my tongue with sandpaper memories and sulfurous thoughts
Spewing great clouds of smoke, a dragon stretching her scales and scathing wit
Shrieking harpy songs with fire blazing down my throat, burning battle weapon


Drums thundering syncopated bolts of lightning, electrical bright illuminating fear
Watch me stretch my wings, cower crumpled in your puniness and prayer's stature
Subjugation yields submission, droop down sunflower to your death: diagnosis oppression
Twisted destiny for man, hold no bearing in this life over flower or plant or person

Monday, July 26, 2010

Blissful Summer

For the first time in our relationship, my boyfriend and I don't live hours apart from one another. We've been together for a little over 9 months now. This makes me joyous.

I'm having a truly delicious summer, filled with love and happiness and fun and excitement for the future. Also, I've started working out and running a mile a day. Who'd have thought?

There is too much beauty in the world to be spending my day inside, blogging. Who wants to walk through the prairie with me?

Wednesday, June 30, 2010


Tonight, I have murder on my mind. Maybe it's the late hour, maybe it's my analytical nature, and maybe it's because I've just started season 4 of my favorite crime show, Dexter. In it, John Lithgow plays an eerily calm and nondescript old guy who just happened to pick a woman at a shopping mall... and later murders her. It makes me think of all the shopping malls and all the streets I've walked down, not knowing what sort of creeps are watching me or lurking nearby. Call me morbid or call me realistic- the fact is, our world is dangerous and people are killed everyday. And it's not as if I blend into the crowd very well. Why wouldn't a stranger notice me, pick me, choose me? Why am I not one of the girls in a crime scene photo, flesh slashed to pieces, my life reduced to a file in the Justice Department. What separates me from any of these women, these victims?

Tonight is a night for faith, for feeling safe and protected. But truth is, I don't feel safe and I don't feel right being alone. I'm alone at night far too often. I can't sleep, despite my lack of effort, and it's not just because drunk Londoners are teeming outside my open window. I have a disquieted mind, caused by being too on edge and too in-tune with my thoughts. There are times I wish I could slowly let my consciousness seep from me like air leaking out of a balloon. This is one of those times. My brain is too full from trying to hard, and I don't like being put under this strain. I don't know how I'll continue to manage if I keep being pushed to my breaking point, having to remind myself of my recovery and how I stitched myself up again from the ruin I was. For all the strength that I have, for all the wisdom I've gained over the years, it could all be snatched from me some night with a blade in my back at the hand of a murderer. What's the point, where's the prize in the living of life if death could spring at you at any given moment? I am not afraid of death. I am not afraid of lifting the veil, revealing the secrets the living have pined for for centuries. I am not afraid that there will be nothing; death may be peaceful, black, nothingness- but what does it matter, if we aren't aware of it anyhow?

I can trust in karma, in Buddha, in Gaia, in God, in the spirit of the Universe to save me from dark things, but they cannot grant me pardon forever. I will one day be called and collected for whatever existence lies beyond my mortality. Religions prey upon praying people, looking for absolution from fear. I do not want my fear absolved, I know that steadfastness in the face of such things provides strength. I want company in my wondering, my wanderings, my worries, my woes. I want someone beside me to make the stillness and quiet of night seem all right again. I want not to be alone in the dark when such things make my mind manic with thoughts of things that might be. I want my bed to be warm with the weight of this sort of company. Tonight, my bed is cold and, as of yet, not slept in. And so it will be until I can once again invite you into into my bed, to comfort me and keep me giggling with delight at your tenderness.

I digress into the sort of fantasies that often fill my mind at this time of night.

I've always prided myself on my steel will, my independence, and my ability to pull myself out of whatever troubles I'm in. I've never wanted to share that with anyone before. I've never wanted to give pieces of myself to someone who could use them against me, to anyone who could betray my trust. For all of the words I spit out about trust and about faith in people, I trust sparingly and against my better instincts. Then you came along, and that scares me. It scares me that I can't... no, do not want to comfort myself. I do not want to spend these scary moments alone. I want to spend them with you. And that is a scary moment in and of itself.

I will never be the sort who would willingly commit to one thing for the rest of forever. I don't imagine that changing. I'm too unpredictable, too painfully aware of the shortness of this life and the importance of seeking out the roads upon which you wish to travel. However, on this road at this time, I don't want to walk alone. I want you to walk with me. Our paths might diverge, our futures might split and reverberate the cracks through our hearts. Then again, our road might stretch into unknown places far along the way from this point. All I know is for now, at this time, on this path, in this night I ache for your arms. I am glad that they are open to me for however long we end up walking.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

I Believe

I beat my balled fists into my thighs
Rage, Rage, Rage
I do not understand this world

"We believe that the practice of homosexuality tears at the fabric of society, contributes to the breakdown of the family unit, and leads to the spread of dangerous, communicable diseases. Homosexual behavior is contrary to the fundamental, unchanging truths that have been ordained by God, recognized by our country’s founders, and shared by the majority of Texans. Homosexuality must not be presented as an acceptable “alternative” lifestyle in our public education and policy, nor should “family” be redefined to include homosexual “couples.” We are opposed to any granting of special legal entitlements, refuse to recognize, or grant special privileges including, but not limited to: marriage between persons of the same sex (regardless of state of origin), custody of children by homosexuals, homosexual partner insurance or retirement benefits. We oppose any criminal or civil penalties against those who oppose homosexuality out of faith, conviction, or belief in traditional values."


Well, Texas, do you know what I believe? I believe that this is unconscionable, and I do not understand. I simply cannot understand. I do not understand a place where a kiss is a crime, where love is brought under high scrutiny and judgment. I do not understand a world where it is more acceptable to kill a man who falls under a different flag than it is to love him. I do not understand a world where such discrimination is not only tolerated, but touted by millions of misguided individuals. I do not understand a world where man condemns his fellow man.

I believe in the truths that our Founding Father's set forth for us. I reject the idea that all of the men who created the cornerstone of our society at all intended to create a system of exclusion. I believe the immortal words were "all men are created equal", not "all men are created equal, except the ones who boink other dudes." I believe that continuing the cycle of judgement, shame, and mistreatment is perpetuating the abuse that our country is so famous for. Over the last two hundred years, we have realized the grave errors we have committed in the name of the Founding Fathers, or in the name of God. This country, where women were once considered second-class citizens, now has apologized to the entire gender and employed new legislatures, ensuring equality. This country, where Africans were once considered scum, now has apologized to the entire race and employed new legislatures, ensuring equality. We have seen the errors of our ways on issues that once seemed to split the country down the line of right and wrong. It was once normal practice for a woman to submit to her husband, needed only for children and for cooking. It was once normal practice to segregate those of darker skin from the rest of the world, stupidly assuming that being black meant being inferior. There have been pardons, apologies, restitutions DEMANDED from our Government. And now, here we are, divided as a country once more. Do we allow this intolerance to continue, or will we finally learn from the mistakes of our past? Those who do not take the lessons of history into account are doomed to repeat them. As long as America allows those who breed hate and injustice to be the lawmakers, we will never be free from the shadow of oppression.

I am waiting, Uncle Sam. I am waiting for my damn apology. I am waiting, praying for the day when the clouds break and the harsh light of honesty is cast upon these cruel practices. I am waiting for the day when I am allowed to freely love whom I chose and be recognized as an equal citizen of this country. As long as my right to marriage, my right for my partnership or family is considered a "special privilege", I stand disgusted at the actions of this country.

I AM A PERSON. I EXIST, I MATTER, AND I DESERVE THE SAME LIBERTIES AS ALL OTHERS. And no matter how many women I kiss, that won't change. I am waiting, America. I am waiting, Americans. It's time to take matters into our own hands and declare, once and for all, that this behavior is NOT OKAY.

I cannot abide by a country that tolerates this nonsense.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010


"All the world is a stage and the men and women merely players. They have their entrances and their exits, and one man, in his time, plays many parts."
- Shakespeare

I have never felt so free, so alive as when I throw my head back and open my voice up to the Universe. In the glory of sound and expression, like releasing a beast from its cage, my spirit unfetters itself from unhappiness and insecurity. I am at home in my body, I am at home in my self.

Halfway blinded by the obtuseness of my own shortcomings, I am painfully aware of my own fear. There is only myself in my way, only myself who anticipates the harsh reality of rejection as a pill too large and bitter to swallow. I hide behind my words, my pretty words that I pluck from my brain and twist into new shape have the pockmarked visage of trying far too hard.

I have little to say, little to say except that I'm confused. I'm not sure whether I should follow my head or pursue what I love, despite odds and doubtfulness. I hate this dilemma, this stupid dilemma that (one would think) we should have figured out by now.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Sleepless in New York.

My mind is running heavy, slow, lagging like a computer with too many viruses. The people mill around me, city mentality. Running, running women in track suits and sculpted bodies. I wish they could run my body, run it far better than I do. I don't sleep, I don't sleep well and I crack at the fissures of the lines in my face. Worn weary, wrinkled, I pray for sleep. One, two, three o' clock roll around and I have nothing to show for it but frustration and balled fists. Digging my nails into my palm, railing and reeling against my urge to jump and kick and scream. At least anger is a form of release.

The world outside my window is too big to ignore and I am swallowed, engulfed in the pace of a New York minute.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Vignettes of the city

When I look out the window, I see Broadway. When I walk out my front door, I walk into Central Park. When I step onto the street, I feel alive and buzzy with possibility. I am a city woman. Or, well. I'd like to be. It's tough to be kind and to live in the city. I smile at people on the sidewalk and they look at me like I've asked them to marry me.

She had wide eyes and wild, frizzy hair. I have seen babies with more teeth. Childish, innocent, batty- she came at me expectantly. Gleefully she eyed my ice cream cone and held out her arms. She reached, I dodged and smiled at her. Sorry, lady. Not today. Part of me wishes I had just given her the ice cream and bought another one.

The rustle of books, the musty smell of paper reaches my nostrils and wraps me in a familiar warmth of contentment. 18 miles of literature, 18 miles of pure joy. It's no secret to me that most of my friends will never have anything new to say to me, their words immortal on the page. In my world of change and transition, their staunch sameness is kind to my psyche. This is my church, and language is my religion.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010


All right, kiddos. I hate to break it to you, but my big whole plan about keeping you all updated about where I am and what I'm doing isn't going to come through. There's this little thing called a Confidentiality Agreement and that means that I'm going to keep stalkers away from the family. Which means I need to be sneaky and covert.

Aunt Linda, who is Melissa's best friend, is a TV writer (who worked on That 70's Show and just created Nurse Jackie) and she and I have been talking a lot about writing. She challenged me to come up with a way to update everyone and keep people informed without divulging too much information. So, I'm going to write about my summer like I'm writing a short story about a girl plucked from the Midwest and sent out into the big, bad world of rock 'n' roll. Names and details will all be changed, but I hope that you enjoy my interpretation of my life. I'll most likely get into it more on the road, but for now, I'm just chilling at Casa Melissa and life is great. Not a whole lot to update, to be honest, except that I love everyone and everyone is so incredibly nice to me. Also, they have a kick-ass pool with a water slide. And I'm hella tan.

More to come, for sure. I miss home, but I'm so happy to be here.

Sunday, June 13, 2010


Tears escape from my unwilling eyes onto the great expanse of my bare, white legs. The weight of anguish and frustration in those salty droplets sting like bruises on my doughy thighs. For all my strength and determination to succeed, I am plagued by doubt and fear and very close to totally despairing. My intelligence rails against me for allowing something so silly, so superficial to burrow under my carefully crafted confidence.

Today, it didn't matter that I am a talented, successful, brilliant, motivated, charming, kind, or graceful woman. Today, the weight of my body was so heavy it was all I could do not to sink.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Things I have done today

A short update before I pass out.

  • Met Melissa Etheridge
  • Held both a Grammy and an Oscar statuette
  • Seen Bailey again (finally)
  • Took a long, glorious shower
  • Met the people I'll be spending the summer with
  • Got over any fear of said people
  • Met Bailey's aunt and friends
  • Experienced my first traffic jam on the 101
  • Watched my girl sing on stage :)
  • Casually hung out with celebrities

And now I'm in bed, exhausted after a long day. G'night.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

An open letter to the Government

Dear Government,

I feel you have failed me. I feel like, as a citizen of the world, I am due more respect than you allow me. In a country where money-grubbing corporations hold the majority of power, the best interests of human beings are not being considered. The amount of injustice being perpetrated in the name of profit is unconscionable and, frankly, nauseating. As long as the powers that be purport lies about the opposition, true change can never occur. If we strip the Socialist spin from the health care bill, maybe people will realize that it's basic human goodness. We have libraries, post offices, and firemen- if we can provide free books, mail delivery, and fire-fighting services, why the fuck can't we provide free health care? Why would anyone CHOOSE to sit through the red-tape of insurance, bills, payments, etc. when we could live in a country where health care is provided for us. Both Canada and Britain have nation-wide health care and they haven't collapsed in upon themselves. I am CONFIDENT that this country would improve by leaps and bounds if we could simply wipe the blinding shield of ignorance from our eyes and see things plainly: things are not working the way they are. Our systems do not need to have money thrown at them or "reworked." No. These systems are failing. The travesty that is the Gulf oil spill situation is just one example of corporate irresponsibility. These situations are NOT acceptable and should not occur. This brings me to my next point: DAMMIT, PRESIDENT OBAMA.

I am sick and tired of moderate action. Simply sick of it. You are sitting back, twiddling your thumbs while the nation crumbles beneath you. While McCain would have run this country into the ground in the first 5 minutes, you promised us so much more than this. Man up and take charge of your country! The time for moderate action is well behind us, and we need to radically change this quagmire of national crisis. The health care reform is a joke, put up simply for the sake of progress. There is a breakdown in legislature caused by the stubbornness of the Congress and the futility of red tape. The economy is stagnant and joblessness is still a huge issue. This situation is just getting worse and we need you to be the President we voted for and make the change. Change this corrupt and corporate nation into a more peaceful, just, and honest place to live.

A passionate American humanitarian

Friday, June 4, 2010

An unexpected afternoon

I can hear the tweeting birds and rushing leaves and signs of life, life outside my window. The world is warm and like a womb, encloses you in softness and comfort. But my work remains inside, my thoughts remain contained by painted purple fingers clacking heavily on the keys. The world outside the window calls my name, and I click ignore. My brother sits beside me, coffee cup is evidence of early morning actions. A sip, a sigh, we slip into quiet contentment. He in his white Mac world of Web and I in my black PC, we surf the same waves but rarely meet. The world beyond our fingertips is that large, that we can both be submerged in the same maze of movies and entertainment, social networking, business workings, funny links and freaky kinks; this world is a large one to hold such dichotomy. He calls my attention to his fishing line to online. "Look, I think I can make a sign." He's a handyman, helluva guy who works with his hands in the hot sun. He calls out jargon that makes no sense to me, where I am in my world. "Marmoleum: natural linoleum."


But still, I like that we sit comfortably and converse with each other and offer our thoughts. "Marmoleum is a floor you can walk on without your feet getting cold." It might as well be in Mandarin, but at least he's talking to me.

Pause, interruption, a sign of destruction of plans. I try my damnedest to offer a meager solution, knocked cold by the absolute impossibility of flexibility.

Ah, well, I won't let this ruin my morning of poetry and slam beats and inspiration and enjoyment. I have much, much work to get done and I've been organizing for hours and I'm taking a break, and I deserve a break? But I can't take a two-hour break if I want to make my date. And I do want to make my date because I only have a week left, a week left to spend with the man who makes my spine tingle. And I do not apologize for that, especially when he was 3 long hours away while we were merely minutes. I love you, and will always, but I need you to realize that I matter too. And this is something I need to do because I do love you and I need to be healthy to love you.

Break time is over, have to get back to my work and my packing and getting my life sorted into cardboard boxes of finality. There is much to do in preparation for my life and I am clearing my mind of my worries and working as diligently as I can.

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Anti-feminist Propaganda

OR, alternately titled:

All a Lesbian Needs is a Good, Strong Man to Save Her from Her Silly Ideals

The scene: a dimly lit coffee shop. Late evening, Audry, a young woman of around 2o, sits alone at a table with a cup of coffee. She is dressed nicely and keeps checking her watch. Lights are down with a spotlight on the table. Audry is alone and speaks as though voicing her inner monologue.

I think this might be too soon. I mean, one always assumes that, given the opportunity to better oneself, most people would go and grab that chance. Seems that's what I'm doing with this whole online dating thing, but here I am, wishing my ass off that I had been stubborn enough to refuse to change. Even if he said he did want to meet me, here he is- late. So demoralizing, so humiliating to be sitting here, what? (checks watch) 20 minutes later than he said he'd meet me. I should never have asked him, pushed him really, to meet me. He probably isn't looking for anything serious anyway. I should have listened to that Tarot reader in the first place. What was it, she said? Oh yes... (in a mystical, far-off voice) I am afraid that this is not a happy year for you, darling. Not a happy year? That's a fucking understatement. Stuck in a job I hate, single, and working on an open-ended manuscript. Picture of a failure, indeed. She must have been right, that fortune teller. I don't shell out forty bucks at a Renaissance Fair to be shown shoddy foresight. (Large sigh.) I suppose she has no less chance than all the others of being the right advice. You know, after years of hearing, "Don't give up yet! He's out there. It's just not the right time. You're still so beautiful", you hear the emptiness ring truer over time. Madame Mysterique words could have no less emptiness than all those forced compliments. Maybe it is time for me to move on, alone. Strong, valiant, sure. Who needs a man? Did Susan B. Anthony need a man to go out and get her the vote? No! Did Harriet Tubman need a man to construct her the Underground Railroad? No! Did Marie Antionette need a man to help her bring down the French aristocracy? Well, it's no mystery that Louis XVI did spend the country's reserve freely, but that is hardly the point! The point is this. For centuries, women have been braving the world alone and coming out on top! I can be one of those women, a crusader for single women in today's society! I... I... I can't believe he's forty minutes late. Yes, yes, I can be a shining beacon for women everywhere, but I also don't deserve to be stood up! I can't believe I shaved above the knee for this guy when he doesn't even have the nerve to show up. I mean, he could have been so kind as to call. (checks phone. Visibly swallows deeply.)

Oh, my phone is off. It's... been off, for the last hour or so probably. Oh God. He's probably tried to call. He's probably tried to call and thought I was standing him up when I didn't answer back. (powers on phone and dials voicemail) Oh dear sweet Jesus, please let him have left a voicemail. Please, please, please, please... OH! 2 new messages.

Brandon (voice over):
Hi Audry, this is, uh, Brandon. I'm sitting here at Cafe Luna waiting for you to show up. It's been about 25 minutes or so. I hope you're still coming. Call me and let me know. Okay, uh. Goodbye.


Oh my gosh, Audry, I am so very sorry. I just remembered we were supposed to meet at Cafe Lune, not Cafe Luna. So, just in case you're still there and haven't given up on me, like you should have, I'm coming over to Cafe Lune. In fact, I think I can see you. Red scarf? Glasses? Cute smile?

(Brandon walks on stage in front of Audry, hanging up his cell phone. Audry is obviously smitten and stands up to greet him.)

Brandon (kissing her hand):
You're even more beautiful in person. I can't believe someone like you would try online dating. I can hardly imagine you having trouble finding a date. Now, let's get to know each other better.

(Invites Audry to sit down. Both take seats.)

Brandon, cont:
I have a question. Who do you admire? Who do you think really had it all figured out?

Audry (blushing):
It's funny you should ask, I was just thinking about that before you walked up.

Oh, and what have you come up with?

You know, I'll have to go with Guenivere. Not only was she a beautiful and respected queen, she bagged her knight in shining armor.

(Huge wink and exaggerated embrace to audience. End scene.)

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Velvet painting of an evening

Oppressive, bubbling heat cools into the dusky steam of evening. Cool beers and creature comforts: ribs, coleslaw, corn muffins, honey butter. Momma on the back porch listening to the birds, the trees, the sound of the world outside. Talk about nothing, about everything, about people that affect us or silly things we want to share with the other. It's infrequent, but refreshing to sit down and keep company with my mother. We are warriors together, weathering the same storms. She pictures a journey off to calmer waters and I into the spray on the rocks. I am never more aware that we are nothing but women when we sit at the end of our days and unwind. I like hearing her humble hurts, the frustrations she faces day after day. It's nice to remember that the apple never falls all too far from the tree.

How am I spiritual, you say? Well, I believe in the Almighty Dollar.

OR, alternately titled:

America is a Festering Greed Lair

I've had money on the brain recently. Looking at four years of college ahead of me is like looking at a looming string of bills and loans and debt, debt, debt. I have never liked or understood the idea of credit. I do not spend outside my means. I only buy something if I'm positive I have the finances to support it. So the idea of plunking down $32,000 a year scares me (and provokes my Socialist views.) I would much rather be living in a nation that supported furthering education more. I believe Government spending in this country is seriously flawed and grossly ill-placed, but that's another post.

It might also be good to mention that my mother has recently been on a big simple-living kick. It's been a bit of an adjustment, but it's obvious that it means a lot to Mom. We often talk about our mutual distaste for large corporations and insurance firms. We are both outraged by the anti-humanist and unjust treatment of the general populous. We both think that being money-hungry is a pretty dickish way to live life. However, she wants to live as cheaply as she can and I want to make enough to support my lifestyle. I don't have too expensive a lifestyle, I just want to make sure I have enough to pay for all the things I buy in life without using credit. So I'm not cheap or overspending, frugal or impulsive. I am scared of debt. I will spend money when I have it and be incredibly tight-fisted when I don't.

Playing house as my way to pay the bills has really made me think a lot about this kind of thing. Do other 19 year olds spend so much time thinking about their finances?

P.S. Did I mention I even invest my money in a small stock portfolio? I have thousands saved already. I am such a goddamn adult.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


I helped my mother trim the plant life in our yard today. It was a nice opportunity to people watch in suburbia. I saw children riding bicycles and scooters, holding lemonade stands and blowing bubbles. I watched old, fat men and young, lean jocks huff and puff by on their daily running schedule. I saw mini-vans and SUV's and shiny, bonus-guaranteeing Chrysler's. It was quiet and gentle. with birds tweeting and sun gleaming. Peaceful, balmy, breezy afternoon outside.

The cage really is beautiful out here.


I am as unspoiled as an expanse of cloudless sky. I am the embodiment of lightness and clarity. I am as hollow as avian bones. I am full of blissful nothingness. I am the chaff swept along by a gust of wind. I am submerged in light, with nothing but the soft thump, thump of my heartbeat for company. I am air and prism and dream and wisp and purity.

I am dust, swept under a rug.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010


My brain flexes in defense as a man would flex his muscles
Protective, cautionary- imagination is my strongest asset
Fistfight of words, sting lightly as purple bruises on my pride
I cannot connect or make an intersect of my visage in your mind
The haunted, brooding monster or accomplished, convivial heroine?
My reflection in the glassy glare of your irises is muddled and dull
A burden be the day before, a fruitful joy of wit and cleverness the next
Hard to hang your hat on having you around, when even an identity
Is questioned? Trust cannot be forced onto quaking tectonics.
Freshness, newness has the draw of the unfamiliar, and those of whom
You have grown tired, you have grown out of? Disparity, dichotomy
Between the heart's proclamations and mouth's recitations, how do
I separate the amalgam of communication?
Without a translator, the message is confined to one mind
And I find that I lose ground every day that I fear will be resolute.
Permanently orphaned in solidarity and sublime obligation.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Someone once told me:

-If you keep your keys in the ignition of a car while pumping gas, your car will explode

-You will never change. You will bounce around from institution to institution all your life, always living on the system.

-If you're not nervous, you're not ready.

-You're like 5 gay men in one big lesbians body.

-If I got a nose job, I'd ask for your nose. It's perfect.

-My father doesn't approve of people over size '4'.

-We all knew you were going places; turns out, these are the places.

-Pain is inevitable, misery is optional.

-I want you home with me. I don't want to keep sending you away to that horrible place.

-I can't break my promise, so I want you to kill me.

-I never thought you would be in so much pain. You seem so strong, so perfect.

-Do you have a passport? We might be going to Europe.

-That's you! You're going to be the lead.

-We cast you first. We wanted you most.

-You know? This isn't half bad.

-You've always had me wrapped around your little finger.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010


With the twists and turns of my liquid neck
the flicker of the camera frame captures
a classic movie moment for siskel and ebert
Apertures and filaments, flash bulbs in my eyes
dilating the blind spots in my sickly vision
voices split, run and ream their melodic destruction
tenuous high string, zip and slap the nylon chords
Pinging drips of harmony, drizzle like honey the sweetness
of sound, golden and delicious and fix to each snap,
each click of the camera lens that captures my mind
imaging finds my memories and my very own home movie
in my head of all the years and times and blazing, burning
buried back in my brain. the moving madness in my mind
makes me miss my father, with his bright face the feature of
the film within my memories. the sound he inspired
the love of music injected into my veins like a wondrous
drug- an addiction he advocated, he appreciated and taught
me how to make it, mold it, and mean the music
the swinging camera circles my head, grabbing all these pictures
of family and love and grief and death and how things return
to a state of undiscovered territory after such bane removal.
He's still in the hidden in my mind, captured now onto filmy
reproductions of the life we had together. we do not connect
on any plane, but that I have you tucked away within my
heart and within my mind speak volumes of my love.
At the great beginning of things as it were for me, as you
wanted for me, I think of you and tip my hat to all the things
you've advised me to hold dear over the years
At this the beginning of my life as it will eventually grow to be,
as you will never get to see, I feel you near and that you guide
me and want to be a part of the person I soon will be. Take
my mind's stream of consciousness, the pictures of your
face etched onto the backs of my eyeballs, take this and know
that I haven't forgotten you, that I think of you and even
if you wouldn't have cared for the direction I followed or
the dope that I smoked or the women I've kissed, you'd still
know that I love you by continuing to live on through all of
my life and I haven't tried to reach you in a permanent sort
of way. I am living my life as you lived your life, to give me all
the opportunities I deserve. I love you because I've followed
my hopes and dreams for my life. Keep close the camera's picture,
capturing just the love I have for you. That I will always have

for you.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

We are the nights

We are the moments you will reach for. We are the sticky, sweaty low-lit backrooms of a jazz club and you're dancing too close, too hot. Thighs locked between thighs as the bass strums a swinging beat. Swaying to and fro and low and dirty, rough and tumble with the city as your stomping ground. Streets to run through wild and free, find the next adventure destination. Slide through town on a string of saxophone slips and slithers. Twitch of hips, waggle of hand in a taxi you climb, slinking leg after luscious leg into the backseat of the chariot of the evening. Whiz, whirl, twirl about Broadway and 5th Avenue, rush your head around the buzz and call of the socialite's beehive. Patent leather high-heeled shoes clicker-clack down concrete streets, swishing skirts and shooing into hole-in-the-wall joints with light in your eyes and gin on your breath. A coo, a call, a cool rhythm boils up our blood and sends your hips shaking and shimmying toward mine. Tipped hat, ashing cigarette bouncing between two lips as we jive and boogie, hands exploring back and forth and leading the way around the smoky dance floor. Simmer, saunter down the darkened alleyways and avenues. Steamy vents and black and white smoke and mirrors, illuminate your face, you spotlit starlet and luxurious lover cavorting about town. These nights that blossom under activity and far too much spirit come crashing closed with sweet, enticing simplicity. We are the nights you long for, you cuddled up tight in blankets and suburban nightmares. We are the nights you crave, you claim to make your own when you've made it on your own. We are the ticket, the release from waspish, fetid and chained- let me free into the swirl and buzz of these stinging nights of unencumbered hedonism.

We are the nights you think of when lying braced against your cold mattress. Lonely, longing for the company of some heat, some action, some great show of life.

Thursday, April 29, 2010


I think I'm kidding myself with this whole being-a-writer thing. I can't finish anything I start and the things I do manage to slap onto paper are poorly thought out, dull pieces of nothing. Fluff, emptiness, wispy drips of inadequately contrived prose that doesn't mean anything to anyone- including myself. I have no patience, no follow through, no business even trying to make something out of this hobby. So I have a penchant for vocabulary and a way of fitting words together to sound pretty... this does me little good with actually creating interesting characters or a discernible plot line, creating or developing a world that anyone might take interest in. Who the hell cares if I can make some fancy words link together nicely if I haven't got the imagination to say anything that really matters? I can't, just can't seem to find anything to write about that isn't some ridiculous amalgam of my own life with some details changed. I don't want to put me down on paper. I can't write about myself all my life- I'm not that interesting to begin with.

I feel like such a failure.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

We are only as good as the worst of us

I've taken the time to stop and think and realize that we are never as alone as any of us care to be. In the stark, moonlit sky there are countless stars just as in life there are countless faces, people we see but don't see through to their being. If you stand on a bridge or atop a tall hill or on some quiet overlook, fingers entwined with your love and look- just look out over all of the cars and the houses and buses full of people, people with thoughts and ideas and friends and loves and worries and failures. You'll sit and wonder as I've sat and wondered how all of those people, the hundreds and thousands and millions of people are feeling at that instant. And then one of those people is bound to be brother-in-law to your best friends cousin and then we're right where we began, with you on a bridge or atop a tall hill or on some quiet overlook, fingers entwined with your love. And in any given moment, any given place be it Egypt or Japan, the top of the Eiffel Tower, you are bound to see someone who knows someone who once bumped into someone or something and you'll know in that instant of palpable clarity- we are never as alone as any of us care to be. As tenuous as that single strand of connection is, it is there and it is claiming you and owning you and saying to you loudly that YOU HAVE A PLACE IN THIS WORLD. It is carved out and set out before you to walk and to wander, and you'll see the millions of faces each day that have their own paths and have you to thank for owning your place and allowing them theirs. I stand still in the busy-bee streets of the city and caution the blur of movement, of bustling people with places to be and people to see and I watch them and love them all equally, individually. I must have been one of them, somewhere to someone like me who watches. If I was loved by one person, somewhere who watched then I've been loved by thousands and millions and all who loved or was loved by that one person, somewhere. And now when I stand on a bridge or atop a tall hill or on some quiet overlook, fingers entwined with my love I LOVE and I claim every person in every car, every house, every building. I claim them my own, as my fellow travelers on the paths they have carved out for themselves. And I love them with all of the love I possess and I wish them goodwill in all that they do, then I think. I think if we all loved the world that we see stretched before us then there might just be less room in the world for anger or bitterness, keeping the throngs of tired and poor at the helm of society. If we all loved the people about us for just being there on our path, near our side as we clamor through crowds then we might all be able to fix up this place we're all traveling. If we loved all the people on all of our paths then they might love others on all of their paths and soon, since we're all tenuously bound to each other then we might be able to send love about to the places where it's sorely needed. If we think less like billions and more like just one then we might be able to live all together on the only home we know.

Sunday, April 25, 2010


Right now, I feel like I'm standing at the gate to the rest of my life. I've finally been going down the right path and come to the right gate, but haven't crossed the threshold yet. I'm teetering on the edge and peering through the bars to the kind of life I want to live.

Let me explain this a bit.

As a teenager, I spent a lot of time in recovery for my depression and self-injury issues. I never really lived a normal teenager life, and then my dad up and died. Because of my recovery and the need to learn how to cope with the death of a parent, I feel like I was forced to grow up quicker than others. But yet, even though I was forced into mature situations quicker than my growth allowed for, I tried to stay with the friends I had and the social groups I knew and the situations I was comfortable with. At best, I'm hesitant to change. At worst, I'm terrified of change. But lately, I've been so much more honest with myself and the people in my life about what I want my life to look like. I've realized that I can't let myself live according to the standards of those around me. I can't base my decisions on the approval of friends or their definition of the 'right' thing to do. This has been freeing.

Back to the path/gate metaphor: for a long time, I followed others down a path that I didn't feel so comfortable with simply because I didn't want to live without my friends. This path was Christianity. For a long time, I purported myself to be Christian, despite knowing in my heart that I disagreed with major doctrines and doubted the validity of the Bible and the idea that Jesus was the Savior of the world. I struggled with this for a long time, wanting to be a Christian in order to fit in (and also because, at that time, I still feared hell). It wasn't until Steve, my mom's boyfriend/fiance? came along that I really started to think about how unfair living that sort of life was to me. Steve loves to challenge people to be honest, and I watched he and my mother have intense discussions about what my mother truly wanted from life. The thing about my mother, as wonderful as she is, is that she tends to bend her own wants in order to please others. She's less inclined to tout her own agenda and more likely to follow the lead. Steve has been asking her all sorts of questions about herself-what she wants, what she likes, what she sees for her life, etc. For the first time, I think she's growing into herself and realizing what sort of woman she wants to be- independently of the expectations or desires of others. This has opened my mother to be someone I can relate to, someone who accepts me as I am with no hesitation. Considering her initial disgust and rage when I first came out to her, having an accepting and loving mother who approves of my decision to follow a satisfying- if not 'normal'- lifestyle is fabulous. She wants me to be happy and content in life more than she wants me to be her idea of what she wanted me to be. Sorry, went off on a tangent there but my point is this: Steve hasn't just been inspiring my mother to live the life she truly wants, he's been inspiring me to also.

This lead to a deep, fruitful search for the true representation of my beliefs. I knew I could no longer portray myself as a Christian, it would be dishonest. I've been living a Deistic life, and I'm incredibly happy as such. Christianity was the first path I hopped off in order to find the paths I really wanted to follow... and since then, it's been change everywhere. I've stopped limiting myself from the ideas I want to explore and things I want to experience. I refuse to let other people's expectations of me stand in the way of me living the sort of life that makes me happy, that gives my existence meaning. However, since I'm stuck in Cary for the time being, I'm not completely living the life I want to live. This brings me to the threshold of the gate.

I see college as final push through the wrought-iron doors of the gateway to my life. I'm so unbelievably excited to move to Chicago and study literature and writing. In all my life, I've been frustrated with academics and feeling unchallenged in school. I am hungry for philosophical discussions, talking about things that really matter with like-minded people. I am hungry for freedom of expression, soaking up all the inspiration of the city and letting my writing benefit from my furthered experience. I want to observe the city and feel the vigor of youth. I want to open my mind and take in the city on a higher level of consciousness. I am eager and excited to start building my life around the things that really matter to me: art, literature, music, conversation, love, joy, unbridled expression.

For me, it is an exciting time to be alive and I don't plan to take any part for granted. I am thankful that I've crawled from the darkness of my mental illness to this place. I am blessed to be able to stand here today, fully alive and exceptionally happy, and be able to free myself of the shackles of my past. I am proud of the woman I am and the woman I will eventually grow to be.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Happy longest-I've-ever-been-in-a-relationship-iversary

There's something in the way
I wake up to the planes of your face
that makes me tingle with the thought
of the closeness of us. Intimate, passionate
kindness and genteel. A draped arm, held
hand, tender kisses on my shoulder.

There's something in the way
your eyes rest on mine, with your mouth a
damned smirk of smartassery, that bears
the burden for just a little while. Taking
care, taking interest, taking me as I am
for all the right reasons.

There's something in the way
I get to call you darling that shocks me
with pride at the accomplishment of
building lovely months with you. The
knowing of you and the sharing of me
and the blossom of newness that is fresh
and long-awaited as the birth of spring.

There's something in the way
we are that fills me to bursting at the
thought of what we could be or what we
will be or what we won't be. A brightness to
the coming days, more filled with you and us
than I dared wished for. The future is
a happy place to look.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Two hearts, Two thousand miles

Woman: weary are the lines of your face
The ridge of your brow stopped and pulled
White linen frames you, keeps you, shrouds you
Pulsing gaze grows heavy with wisdom and
Weight of the great things you must know
Great things I may know with the blossom of time

Familiar and gentle sister's resemblance
Throaty and thrumming evening prayers
Thankfulness huddled on two eager tongues
Chant or rote, our father of satnam

Woman: burdened are the folds of your heart
Soft and salty pitter-patter, blushing nose
Fear envelops you, surrounds you, binds you
Dripping gaze pleads for rescue and respite
Strong was the shoulder who bore your cross
Its the ache of him I bear, as you bore me

Boundless expansion of desert and grassland
Separate and similar are your precious hurts
Staunchly forward going through absentia
The pains of a womans heart I have yet to know

Sunday, March 21, 2010

I feel like Lisa Simpson

Remember that one Simpsons episode when Lisa converted from Christianity to Buddhism? There was this one part, just after the enlightenment bulb clicks over her head, that she rushes out onto the street and yells, "I AM A BUDDHIST!"

I feel sort of like that, except replace Buddhism with Deism.

I've been on a bit of a spiritual hunt lately. I recently took a good, hard look at what I believe and realized that I really have no place for Christianity in my life. Ever since, I've been at a bit of a loss, sort of empty. Religion was a huge influence in my life, and chucking Christianity in the bin was a tough decision. Rationally, I could no longer pretend to belong to a doctrine that called me evil and morally impure just for kissing other girls. I could not support the idea of Biblical infallibility. I don't support any institution that judges others or claims to have all the answers. The wider and more rational my view became, the more Christianity seemed to fall short. This left me with a "what now?" sort of feeling. So, if I don't believe in Christianity, what do I think about religion? Do I even believe in God? I came up with this:
  • I do believe in God, who I think is the genderless creator of the world. I believe in God because I look around me at the wonder and beauty of the world and can't reasonably conclude anything else. Life, the complexity of nature, the aesthetic beauty of the world- to me, all of this suggests an creator.
  • Most religions have twisted up the idea of God and added a lot of man-made rules. This irks me. I don't like the manhandled bits about religion- religious texts edited by humans, creeds and doctrines thought up by councils, etc.
  • I am wholly frustrated by the terrible, evil deeds committed in the name of God and the institutions that sanctioned those actions.
  • A moral code is important in life. I believe that the intended moral code of God is well represented in the 10 commandments, variations of which are included in most religious theology.

This is, in a nutshell, all I believe needs to be covered by religion or spirituality. I firmly believe that spirituality and religion don't need rigid rules; flexibility and interpretation is important. Things like abortion, gay rights, etc. are social issues and fall under the umbrella of my political views. At first, I decided not to bother finding a label or definition for my thoughts. I've been living that way for the last couple months, but throughout, I've felt aimless. Maybe I'm just one of those people who enjoys the community of things, but I dislike the idea of being on a spiritual island. I wanted to find something that I could resonate, ideology I agreed with. So, I went on a balls-out internet search for faith. The major religions (Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Islam) were out, I already knew I didn't agree with that theology. I went further, looking at Ba'hai faith and Taoism and Neopaganism and Unitarian Universalism, but nothing fit. I then stumbled here: Take a peek, it's pretty interesting stuff. I found myself reading the definitions and stories and thinking, "Wow. This is the missing piece I've been looking for."

The beautiful thing about Deism is that it's not exclusive at all. The only key belief is this: "the recognition of a universal creative force greater than that demonstrated by mankind, supported by personal observation of laws and designs in nature and the universe, perpetuated and validated by the innate ability of human reason coupled with the rejections of claims made by individuals and organized religions of having received special divine revelation." This is pretty close to what I outlined for myself months ago. Reason, logic, belief in God. No restrictions and rules, just encouragement in self-reliance, rationality, reason, and questioning authority. It all fits.

So, there we have it. I am a Deist. It's liberating, in a higher-understanding sort of way. Granted, I don't think this discovery will change my life much (I've been living the Deist sort of world view for a while now, without even knowing it), but it's nice to know that there are others who feel similarly.