Wednesday, December 31, 2014
New people enter, but no one ever leaves.
Maybe that's 75% accurate.
We're in a "club" that never dissolves for very long.
Funny stuff...we've got a Pink Panther situation over here.
Peter Sellars keeps showing up.
But it isn't me anymore.
My entrances keep getting worse.
I can't hold it together.
Oh, how I love disasters.
Reminds me of my life...bye...catch you later.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
use your waves for expansion
reach around the world
Sun use your golden energy to bring warmth
fire burn in a container
sky open your openness
Greece put out your soldiers
to march us
wind cut through stagnation
ice keep it together
flowers let your seeds fall into my mouth
live like living is the only thing
and love over and over
under the tree
buried crystals were found
and I remember you
creek tell your story
about the man who was killed there
talk to me and i'll listen
Stars hold me
sequins cover me
my mouthpiece is made of frost and millet
brothers you are my keepers
sisters you are my friends
brother and sisters we are always near
bring me a muse
who knows how to laugh
so we can be found
tie me up in emerald green raw silk
if you need to take something
take it from me
if you need it take it
wheat for your flour
butter for your bread
now go and do your work
put the attention on yourself
trust trepidatious lyrics
Saturday, December 27, 2014
I've done this a bunch of times.
This guy in L.A., looks like David Fincher
We ran around
whatever - that means
I also ran around a lot alone
I don't think L.A. is dangerous at all
we got into - our matching jumpsuits - and ran around
We ran around the park and we ran around the trucks
We went to a county fair together in Bethlehem, New Jersey
And then we watched a movie
- we watched Newsroom
And that dog was pretty cute
The one with the blue fedora
- oh hell -
The next time I drive off a cliff - embankment - especially Mulholland Drive
Remind me to fasten my seat belt
It's hard to come back from that
I'll just keep it a secret
I wonder how many people have called the EMTS?
It seems like a bad thing
sometimes it is, I don't understand it
Friday, December 26, 2014
when I saw you staring back at me
and in the moment I saw you the cat looked away
I don't understand our relationship but I don't need to
I like it the way it is
it made me into a much stronger person
than I ever imagined I could be
I never thought I would say that
tomorrow, I don't know
I only know today
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
One person may understand another person, another person may not.
Being with the people I understand isn't always a good thing.
I try to put myself around a variety of people.
But most of the time it's a crowd.
You'll get the idea if you're on board.
We all fair differently.
In whatever this is.
And for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about.
You are not necessarily lucky.
Sometimes people think that.
But I think they are wrong.
Great, women with jobs finally.
I better hope the coffee shop I go to has a job.
Because I've done the walk around and try to get a job bit a whole bunch.
And frequently I wind up in a precarious position.
Sometimes me having a job is like the worst idea.
Every time we just do the same thing, but we're getting better.
I'm trying to avoid saying thank you, because I don't want you guys to cry.
It's the worst.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Okay we get it's, "Classified."
And before last week it was all unclassified.
But now since it's classified no one can do anything.
I didn't understand how that worked in the beginning.
Following that I jumped around the classrooms looking for my target.
There's this other guy who knows my name now.
He thinks he's embroiled in some kind of top secret operation.
When I left after I watched your face turn purple...
I was hiding behind a beam peeking out to see if you were leaving.
I didn't see you...
But when I turned to go I saw that guy who I think saw me looking for you.
He looked amused.
The way I know he looked amused was because I saw the back of his head as he walked away with his coffee from Starbucks.
I can tell what someone is feeling from looking at the back of their head.
The only reason I was surprised you were there was because I thought it was a one time deal.
Then I spent a long time trying to silently figure out what you're doing.
It doesn't make sense to me that you would come work out with me if you were planning on killing me.
But after everything that's happened I have to allow for any possibility.
It seems like a sweet thing to do, to get ready together.
The only thing I totally missed was how you got into the female locker room.
I can imagine you might make that into a bigger part of your job requirement.
There are more hot bodies in Boulder than L.A. even!
Honestly it doesn't work the other way, I don't want to be inside the men's room.
The part you missed, but I think got later...
Was that I was being a distraction and it helped you.
All you knew was that you were hearing my voice and you wanted it to stop.
I base this on the traditional intolerant look I elicit from you.
After a long bout of intensive thinking...
The conclusion I come to is: either this is the beginning of something or nearly the end.
I have no idea what's going on.
But I know it's "Classified."
Monday, December 15, 2014
Sunday, December 14, 2014
I think it's because I'm aggressive
When I see someone coming toward me
I either quickly disappear or I face and intimidate
I treat the most intimidating people the same as anyone else
There aren't very many intimidating people here
It doesn't matter
I think I'm offense
Yeah, maybe a bit offensive
I really need defensive players
There are some unwanted characters coming closer to me
This one person is ready to snap
I'm sure there's a lot of crosstalk I'm not aware of
Sorry you're all too far away for me to hear you!
Those people I used to know
Still me, me, me
Give me a quarter and I'll explain it
That's my price and I won't go lower
I have to give God some credit
His plans are SO much better than mine
I get enough crosstalk from my mind
Literally there's a peanut gallery up there
How many people have access to my cranium?
Forget it, I don't want to know
It's strange, but I have new, improved tactics
Just when I think I'll never change I go and shock myself
And I get an electric shock every time I lock the car door
I'm shocked by the people here
By that I mean, I'm not, I'm lying
Maybe I should publicize my secret plans
It won't change how they work
They will work
Sometimes I make people uneasy
They sense I bring something that might not be good with me
That is correct
I definitely bring something with me
I don't know whether or not it's good or bad yet
And this has been going on for a decade
I have some plans
I don't think people like it when I improvise
"This is not what the plan was!"
Sometimes the plan is a bad idea
Anyone who knows anything knows that
The crosstalk I'm getting today is full of static
Barack is definitely the last one to know
At least he saved his family
Nothing else really matters
I knew there was a reason I took evasive action
I make it so hard to understand me
I can if I want to
We are not in the times the news declares
We're in transition like the 1950's
What does that mean?
Just when we thought we were super advanced and modern
We went back in time
We're all here, but some people just don't know it
This is an excellent time for me to be single
My plans for being single involve staying single for at least two years
There's a lot of tension in relationships now due to homophobia
Most people are bisexual actually
I think people are publicly getting together with members of the opposite sex
And privately carrying on with members of the same sex
The people who are open about their homosexuality are in power positions
There are a lot of gay men professing their attraction to females
There are a lot of females cheating on their boyfriends/spouses/lovers with other women
There is some code about how cheating on someone with the same sex
Isn't technically cheating
I saw this actress I used to know go public about her bisexuality
I thought it was bold and maybe a bad idea
But now I think I get it and touché
Polyamory has been around for a while now
Some of those people are financing and subsidizing government programs
To expand technology in the private sector
Because of this the entire status quo has changed
Relationship histories are being documented on a regular basis
The people who document them are also being documented
Women are being impregnated with lab babies
Some of them will experience a new phenomena of being aware of this
They will feel: this isn't my child
They will wonder why they feel this way
They will spend the rest of their lives taking care of someone else's child or children
And abortion will become illegal
I never thought I would say that
I don't want to say that
With my track record I could be wrong
But with the next angry White guy who's gonna be president...
It's going to be a big man with a little thing kind of situation
And he will have all the cars to prove it
And we will turn our guns on a completely unsuspecting country
Like Switzerland and Canada will join the Russian federation for protection
If it sounds like I'm just making stuff up
But on the off chance some of this comes true
There's a time stamp to prove it
It seems like I talked about myself and other people
But if you look at the proof I didn't actually say that much about myself
Like where I stand in my sexuality
Or what my plans are
My cat wants to write a novel
I'm sick of using my phone to write
Can anyone donate me a computer?
Preferably a PC desktop from 1995
Rebuilt with a microprocessor from one of the original Mac prototypes
Essentially the best of both worlds
I want a hybrid Papple
I'm telling you that's the future
It can be hard to tell a genius from an idiot
Not always interchangeable
But to set a goal today
I won't make a declaration
What I will not do is make a declaration
I won't declare anything
I'm not making a declaration: there's too much crosstalk
This is not a declaration: "I have nothing to declare. Except for an old apple."
Friday, December 12, 2014
But may I buy some time?
I'm willing to pay in words and ways
The end of the day creeps up on me
I was thinking about Los Angeles today
There are thousands of people there
Famous in their minds
But I don't think using the imagination puts us in tabloids
I was thinking about someone in particular
And how I feel like she's not going to make it
In her chosen profession
But when I had that thought it also made me think this could be the moment it happens
I think being young brought out the dreamer in me
Hatching a lot of plans
But doing very little
Beneath me I am free
Can I accept everything that comes to me without fear?
I watch people bar their doors
It's a violent time
Perhaps if I always open my door and smile we can all be friends
And if I dance quickly enough without inhibitions
We can make the monologue into an ensemble
At this point in my life
I enjoy going solo and collaborating equally
If I sound sure of myself
It means I trust everyone
But only to play their parts
And I realize what others cannot do I must
Toward the sky made of ice I run and rise
To the soil I rest in peace
In pain I feel alive
And I avoid the fire, because it burns me
Friday, December 5, 2014
Going to the mountains to have fun
I needed to be reminded
Of the flying freedom on the slope
At first it all seemed like a risk
On my first run I was tense
But I remembered how to move
It was there inside me
Waiting for the opportunity to come out
And out there we're like a school of fish
It's a kind of dance
And it's flying in the terrain park
Oh, humanity, why do we pray this way?
We ride chairs safely through the void
There are Mardi Gras beads in the pines
Someone threw them there in celebration
Do you want to join in?
And we're off on another adventure
Thank you for another wonderful day
Thursday, December 4, 2014
I picked him up and carried him to a high
he didn't know
he always thought he had wings
now he can be a detective of the past
go back and forth and find the truth
he won't die for me when I have to leave
I make commitments one at a time
the beauty of his practice is only beginning
he will surrender so they don't break him
I don't think he can believe how many people are on my tail
from his vantage point he watches them go
the idea might work
thanks for the insight
related to an instinctual connect we have
as long as he's Mexican
and I'm White
none of us are permanently changing our
we could, but we don't want to
we want to scream
but the electrical current is too strong
before him, the fallen god Pan, there was
love, light, power, danger, mystery!
one goal remains
hold my hand
I'll show you
my fingers quiver
but it's not about weakness
there remains an edge of fear
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
screaming at me to read them
the more they demand the less I obey
when I break a cover I feel overwhelmed
there is pressure from an invisible source
to study the art of nuance
or to learn anything new at all
I appease the gods
but I'm ashamed
I feel too old to start something new
which is a fabrication of my mind
open, open, open to a random page
tenuous moments when I feel afraid
I might learn to be a duplicate
of someone else
to learn is one thing
to duplicate, another
in order to succeed I must focus on the broad strokes
there is art in this
there is unbounded complexity
there are mathematical symbols
I grow grim with tension
in order for me to teach someone
I must first seek refuge in the pages
go to them over and over
but I am closed, closed, closed
I see a brutish woman
who barks more than speaks
and I remind myself of who I am
I am a different species
I leave the broken parts scattered behind me
I gather myself
and I step out, blank
Monday, December 1, 2014
I'm leaving the demilitarized zone.
It feels like I stare too long.
I only stare because everyone else does.
Strange to see the celebrity inside.
By proxy, by symbiosis, by subjugation.
The clatter behind me.
Please, please, please make me do it.
I have the ability.
Fridays find me searching.
The weekend is without parameters.
Those rich college kids do it.
And their parents protect them.
Time the strong.
I am present to a miracle.
I brought my whip.
It has to be here somewhere.
Completely stricken, but no remorse.
I can't be remorseful.
I can persuade large numbers.
The defectors are still ominous.
The excitement; like party favors.
Begin to dose me with elixirs.
Because I can tell.
I can always tell.
Beyond the stars are bays.
The constellations are different.
Some people think they can touch them.
Try to pull them down to eat.
I'm new in town.
To pity me could be a mistake.
Especially when the pity is contempt.
I felt it leave my cheek.
I directly ask.
Under the rock.
So solid and stable.
A conversational tone.
We sit at the table.
And forget it.
To create almond eyes.
Out of dinner plates.
I wasn't expecting this.
Devoid of sunshine.
To save rainwater.
To heal my eyes.
It was this easy before.
But shocking and tepid.
I think of five traitors.
To be banished.
And by my hand.
Power fluctuates through me.
Dreamy insider catapult.
In the basement he picks them apart.
I do not see it.
As long as this happens I am fine.
Settling like flies.
I can feel them.
That was a long time ago.
I still see the burning ember.
Depletion for me.
It's on the whole time.
Too extraordinary by yards.
The fabric is poisonous.
That spot in between.
Land here or on the sidewalk.
So much higher.
When I go off the beaten path.
Where memories are forbidden.
Jot it down.
On a pad.
With a pencil.
And a flourish.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
A poem my grandmother would like.
But then my mind started thinking of a veritable cornucopia of clichés.
And it went wrong even before I sat down to write.
I have so many things on my mind today.
The sky still looks like dawn.
An icy light behind the clouds.
And I'm surprised by how small adjustments can turn everything around.
And then something else happens and I'm back in a position I don't want to be in.
So then I do something else to try to regain the joyful momentum I had going before.
And maybe I realize I don't want to be where I was before, because I wasn't going where I thought I was.
And even though I make declarations to myself to write more poems that make sense to people, I still don't.
I really do have aspirations to craft poems with touching, sentimental imagery.
Actually sometimes I set out to do that and I think I know who will like it, and they usually do.
The thing is that it's a departure from my infuriatingly incomprehensible excessively confessional style.
Try to say that more than once, or read it more than once for that matter.
If I was crafting a holiday piece for you I would include things that people can relate to.
Mentions of the traditional "bird" and aromatics.
Some kind of commentary on the joyousness of family, while completely leaving out the dysfunctional elements as if they never existed.
Basically a mostly fake, completely skewed version.
Some people might like it, because it supports the myth they're working really hard to keep alive.
Other people could find themselves feeling much worse, because in truth the experience is very different for them.
Can you see the position I'm in?
No matter what there will always be someone who would like what I write to be a little bit different (or completely different).
And somehow my poem about Thanksgiving is actually more about writing.
And I can honestly say I am grateful for it.
I can feel it when a poem is "coming on."
It rushes through me and wants to be known.
I keep misspelling "completely."
I want to say comepletely.
Come with all of yourself.
But before you come over consider the consequences.
I might not be who you want me to be.
And you might not look good.
So staying apart > infinitely better.
You know, I feel like it might be confusing sometimes to try and figure out what I'm talking about.
Or rather who I'm talking about.
If you read my work you may wonder who "you" is.
And perhaps you get the idea it changes.
Or maybe you don't wonder at all.
Maybe you don't care.
I was going to reveal myself, but I flinched.
Okay, I wanted to say I don't know who I'm writing about.
How embarrassing I wanted to lie to you.
I do have different people in mind when I write "you."
But I don't think they have any idea what's going on most of the time when they read my rants.
By exposing myself I am intentionally trying to burn a bridge behind me.
Another thing I've noticed.
People don't like it when I write about them reading what I've written.
I think this is because it makes them feel exposed.
If I just don't mention it they feel like they have some kind of window into my inner life.
Which honestly is creepy, because it makes me think of the Peter Gabriel song "Every Breath You Take."
You may be watching me, but I'm also watching you.
It's a two way street.
And I have my own way of watching, which you may not be able to emulate.
Sounds kind of threatening, which I also do not think is popular.
So by my own admittance I have written something that isn't compelling and could potentially be designed to actually turn you off.
Well, I think my job is done here.
I won't tell you how to feel or what to do on Thanksgiving.
I don't think we need people to tell us how to feel.
I feel like God gives me exactly what I need all the time, whether I know it or not.
But it is not always easy and mostly it actually isn't that hard.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
When it clicked it was because I remembered how you were smiling about something morbid I said.
And I remembered what I said.
So I watched it play out in my head like a movie.
Suddenly it all made sense.
What I'm wondering is how long will you be in town for?
Because following a logical line of reasoning if you do what you came here for I won't have anything to say about it.
Oh, what did I think of you?
Yes, as you know you are quite charming in the beginning.
You get angry at people later for buying into it, because you blame them for not seeing what is underneath the winning exterior.
If I were to pick one aspect of your ensemble that gives you away it's the style of glasses.
What worries me most is that if I see you again it will probably be the last time.
But since you're reading this, and you don't like your women to know, I think you'll at least wait a while...maybe I'll forget...
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
I remembered seeing him at work before.
I thought he was more eager than a normal salesman.
But I was on my phone so I brushed him off.
But when I saw him again I could tell there was something that was interesting him about me.
His expressions told me it wasn't sexual.
He made a point to tell me his favorite color is mint green.
And that he's from Pennsylvania.
He seems taller than he is.
He started working at his job about three weeks ago.
His microexpressions told me all I need to know.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
I got access to some new information.
So, I got to go up another level.
I'm astounded by the results I'm getting.
Word of the wise: it's good to be edgy.
In fact, in this game, I have to be edgy.
I can look back at my past and see a pattern.
Keeping things fresh is a great idea.
And remember if there isn't a visible problem, don't make one.
Mistakes are the best teachers.
I remember something that happened nine years ago.
I went to a doctor's office, but I don't remember what it was for.
When I was in the room with him I sensed danger outside the door.
In my mind I saw a very sick, troubled man lurking around.
He was killing people, I thought.
In the elevator on my way back down I saw something I couldn't make head or tails of.
There were two people who were dressed in street clothes with EMT equipment.
They looked unhappy when I saw them.
To my knowledge there are teams of unknown people responding to certain specific emergencies.
If you're reading this they might be around you too.
It's time to purse my lips and silently sigh.
There must be someone telling me a lie.
If we both know what the lie is, then what?
If we both feel kind of sick of this why are we doing it?
There must be a lot of lies bound up in this case file.
It's more than I can handle.
That's why I'm working solo.
If other people benefit, so be it.
I came here to create it not beseech it.
Monday, November 17, 2014
We've got the soundtrack prepared.
The vibe: Dangerous Remix.
Here's what it looks like.
If you want to know a useful secret: plan almost everything, but leave the details for last.
It's hard for me to convey how quickly this is unfolding.
But I'll brief you at the meeting.
Hey! My name is what they call me!
The design is The Design of the Universe.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
I know I don't know the plan.
After an excruciating struggle with my fear this morning I had a breakthrough.
The concept: locus operandi.
I am the locus of your focus.
What I need to do here...
Is empower myself and if I have to scream I will.
The duration of the battle is taxing on anyone's endurance.
I can see through you.
Sorry about the panic Mr. Chateau Marmont.
I couldn't answer, because I was afraid you would eat me!
Only realizing now how flawed my telling of the story is.
I see people and I watch them closely, but my imagination fills in the gaps.
I've seen people do this to me as well.
Recently more people are loving me.
I guess they realize I could use it.
And I have seen so much bravery...I am touched.
I've been preparing for a long time.
I think I'm ready every day.
I can embrace it.
Can you embrace me?
I'm sorry it was hard for you.
You fooled me.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Less vigilance and more negative thinking.
I was cruising along, and then I stopped, and projected failure.
It is not my job to project on what happens in the future.
One of my biggest excuses is to look at certain privileged parties and see what they do.
Then, I feel enslaved, put in a box, like Schrodinger's cat.
I am enslaved in a sense and I know it's true.
I trust my instincts.
God hasn't written a list of rewards for me.
But he has been up late writing for sure.
I don't think he's done writing scenes for me yet.
He's giving me a lot of material.
When I sat down this morning to write I had mixed feelings.
I got jumpstarted, stalled a few times, hoped for brilliance, knew I was focusing on the wrong agenda.
My agenda was going down anyway.
My agenda was mostly based on the weather.
The part about failure.
I feel like I failed.
But I only feel that way, because I didn't get what I wanted.
Also, I asked for way too much.
I'm casting around looking for something to prop me up.
There must be something I can use to make myself feel better.
I'm not finding anything.
Everything has too big a price.
If I don't want anything, then there are no obstacles.
The feeling is that I do want something, but I haven't figured it out yet.
On some days I feel like this will be over soon.
On other days I feel like this is for life.
I have to keep going I tell myself.
I don't want to.
Something burning inside of me died.
I'm just scratching the surface.
I keep seeing myself on a gurney.
And the person who was after me is caught.
And it's almost worse that way.
And when they give him the lethal injection I have to be sedated.
How I know this will never happen is simple.
Because if I can write it, it won't happen.
How I know the current circumstances will change is because they always do.
But you know, I'm in trouble.
Let's face it, I have no idea what's going on.
I hope to be increasingly uncertain.
There is more room for life.
I can't check out.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
I am so relieved to be free of the inanity.
Monday, November 10, 2014
Saturday, November 8, 2014
I want to say I'm surprised, but I don't think that's accurate.
Here's how this goes for me:
We both do our work and essentially there are no surprises.
But there are always surprises.
The setting is a little odd.
It's odd, yet familiar.
It has quite a bit of potential.
Of course I have no idea what's on your agenda.
My assumption says it won't take you long to complete.
In this sea of vagueness I find myself casting around for the correct words.
To purposely be utterly vague and yet speak to you.
I have an idea of what that looks like right now.
You're in your "bed" with the covers pulled over you so you can look at your phone?
I could be wrong.
But it shows how dysfunctional I am that this is how I talk to you.
Just in case you can't see me in your mind's eye:
I'm in my fuzzy "winter" pajamas, ready for bed, whatever, this is stupid.
I should be ignoring you completely, but later I might want to remember this moment.
Or I might want to forget it, but I won't.
The answer is definitely no.
I finally got it.
The message was loud and clear.
And go away.
I'm not angry.
I just can't.
I'm sure you understand.
How much stronger do I need to be?
To make you stop.
We've always been on opposing teams.
You and Me.
"Today a ninety year old man was arrested in Florida for feeding the homeless."
She channel surfs until she reaches CBS.
"We're getting some interference from..."
She's transfixed by the blonde anchorwoman with the big, white smile.
The woman reminds her of a friend she used to have.
On the outside she looks great, but she can sense something is wrong inside.
There are several days of peace in the house.
At night she goes to bed early while he makes pottery in the basement.
Sometimes she thinks he's lying, because it seems ludicrous that he's really making pottery.
But the next day the shelf has extra pieces on it with his signature luminescent violet and blue colors.
She stares at them from a distance as if she's trying to see inside them, to see what he feels while he makes them.
Honestly she thinks the whole weight gain thing has blown over, because it's silly.
Tonight she doesn't know where he is.
She sighs and watches the mediocre, mind-numbing commercials.
Then something across the room catches her eye.
She peers into the darkness and first she sees glasses, followed by him, standing by the ficus.
She acts before she knows what she's doing and flicks off the TV.
The room is completely dark now and she moves like a wild animal up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs she hears him laughing, really laughing.
And she comes back downstairs and turns the living room lights on.
"Baby, you know the only cameras left in the house are yours. Let's drop the act okay."
"First tell me who Richard is."
"Richard is a figment of your imagination."
"I taught you that."
"Well, it's highly effective."
"I don't believe you."
"Eat some ice cream, you'll feel better."
They smile at each other in a way that's a lot like dancing.
It's all a dance.
The acting, the living, the dying, the dancing...
But in the end what she learns is to say "no."
She can say "no" and still dance with him.
Strange but true, she's the one who can't afford to melt.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Her side of the bed is empty, which makes him angry, because it means she's still fighting.
He remembers when he always got up first.
When she was depressed in bed he could use it against her.
When he knew she was already weighed down by negativity he could pile more on top of her.
When she exhibited signs that she was malfunctioning it made him look good.
Now he feels like he's permanently losing, and he remembers the time she told him it would be better for him if he stayed away from her.
The main reason he's losing is because he's over fifteen years older than her.
No matter what he does he definitely can't change that.
And on top of it he's still unsure whether or not she's smarter than him.
He used to look at a lot of the decisions she made and think they were pretty obviously dumb.
During that time he seemed to have all the power.
But later as things changed he looked back and thought about how her actions were deceptive.
As he lies in bed he has a moment of detachment in which he realizes he's obsessed.
Then he looks out the window and glares at the overcast clouds and for some reason he thinks about something he hasn't thought about for a very, very long time.
Actually not thinking about this particular topic for a long time for him is different than how it is for other topics.
He remembers when he got his first clue about "him" and how he thought about it every day.
He thought about the way she played the whole thing out and he still can't believe Richard doesn't exist.
His name is Dick?
There's something about the fact that he actually thinks that's the man's given name, and he feels like if it was any other name he wouldn't believe it.
Then he thinks about something he never conjectured about before.
He remembers the painting she gave him.
The one that was sloppy.
And he remembers how he told her it looked like a vagina to him.
Then he remembers that painting of the ballerina shoe she did that was in the women's restroom at that Italian restaurant.
Someone drew on it and made the shoe look like a penis, but only because it really had that potential to begin with.
There is also a painting she did of an orchid that looks phallic.
The phallic symbols must be representative of Dick, and she is of course present in the painting she gave him and probably others.
His eyes widen.
Is this possibly the reason why he was always drawn to her artwork?
Were the clues all there?
And what else was she doing this whole time that he was unaware of?
Then he thinks about something else.
He thinks about his first major art show.
The one where he incorporated the elements and women and secrets.
Could she tell what he was up to by looking closely at his work?
He feels like she probably could.
He always knew she had an edge on him.
He wonders if she noticed the last thing he did before the show?
Later he realized it was a mistake.
He made an amateur mistake.
First of all, the pieces were all obviously tied together by a common elemental theme.
But right before the show he applied these weird lines across them.
At the time he thought it was a brilliant idea, because it tied all of them together visually.
It was one of those moments when you find yourself taking a risk and feeling like it's a good idea, but underneath it all is the feeling it could be a big mistake.
Instead of thinking about the fact that it might be a mistake he kept going and did it to all of them.
It wasn't until he was in the room at the show watching people look at his work that he understood something was wrong.
Since there wasn't anything he could do about it anymore he pushed the truth away.
He does the exact opposite regarding Richard.
Something feels right and like the truth about this cipher.
At this moment she comes into the bedroom and looks at him oddly.
"What are you doing?"
"Uh, nothing, I was just getting up."
"Well, there's coffee downstairs. I'm going to Pilates."
And he hardly even hears her, because he has so much to figure out still.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Because to them happiness means settling.
Which contradicts what he thinks he wants.
Remember they're together for a reason.
Underneath the surface there are layers upon layers.
At the core he chooses her for who she is.
It's a daily choice.
And vice versa.
When he comes home the next evening the house is dark.
He stopped texting her a long time ago.
He thinks texting is "gay."
He has a complex about appearing masculine.
Texting: not masculine, no.
Saying "no," is masculine.
She's supposed to say yes to him.
But of course when she says no it's a huge turn on.
She can only say no when she has the power to say no.
Which isn't all the time.
Since he can't text her to see where she is he sits on the couch and looks at porn on his phone.
The house isn't filled with her warm, receptiveness, her presence.
He's hungry because he's been eating raw broccoli and chicken breast all week.
The thing that really pisses him off is that his stomach looks the same, but his face is older looking.
The porn that used to work for him isn't working.
He thinks about calling her, and then sees himself from a bird's eye view, and he looks like a big pussy.
He puts his phone away and gets out his hidden bottle of whiskey from the pantry.
He pours himself two fingers straight up.
After drinking that he feels angry.
He loses the usual tabulating control of his thoughts, and he starts to justify why he's always right about everything.
When she walks in he's on his third glass and the bottle is out on the oak table.
She's fresh from a run in the park.
When she steps through the door the breeze smells good.
It smells like pines and wind.
When she sees him like this she stops in her tracks, and he almost feels bad but he no longer has the ability to.
"Did you have a nice run?" he snarls.
"Yes, I did."
She heads toward the stairs.
"Come here," he tells her.
This is how it is.
She's in a commitment where she has to face her fear on a regular basis.
She's terrified of him and she should be.
Her awareness of how dangerous he is is part of the reason she survives him.
She walks directly over to him.
He roughly slaps her ass in black spandex.
"Damn, you are fine. You know that baby? You are fiiiine. What did I do to deserve a woman like you?"
He licks his lower lip and he looks cold-blooded.
She changes, it's like watching a chameleon.
She becomes dangerous in her own way.
She lifts her shoulders and shrugs.
His hand is gripping her hip where the bone protrudes.
She moves away and he pulls her back.
"What do you think you did?"
She knows she can't say anything about love, or sex, or anything cheesy.
And that easily she breaks and the tears rush out of her eyes.
He looks satisfied.
"Good. Get your ass upstairs and shower you smell salty."
Monday, November 3, 2014
He comes home from work with a pint of Cherry Garcia, York peppermints patties, and KFC.
He's acting jolly in the kitchen, opening the freezer, putting things away.
He calls out to her to come downstairs because he has a treat for her.
She's upstairs working on her thesis, but she calls out to him.
"I'll be right down. I have a movie I want you to see."
When she comes downstairs she looks slightly flushed and happy.
He's actually happy too.
They're both slightly confused about why they're happy.
But they don't think about it much at all...because when either of them thinks a lot it means worry.
She sticks her hands into his warm jacket he still has on and gives him a big hug.
Wow, it feels good.
And for a moment they both think it could last forever.
But then he remembers that he has a plan.
Fried chicken is gross when it's cold, so he grabs some plates and serves them.
Plates filled with chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and biscuits.
The truth is her plate is filled and his is masquerading as being full.
He has that look on his face that she's very familiar with.
It means a plan is starting to come off in his favor.
It's true, he really knows when something will come off well.
One of the main things they have in common is a high level of self-awareness.
So, instead of eating at the kitchen table they go over to the couch and get comfortable.
She puts on "the movie."
She couldn't believe he hadn't been exposed to The French New Wave or La Nouvelle Vague.
She couldn't believe it when he told her hadn't heard of "À bout de souffle."
For a while he just pretends to watch it, but he's really looking at her eating.
She eats like a delicate animal.
She really has a very particular way of eating.
She analyzes each bite before eating it, so she's not the type of person who would shovel in a mouthful of salad with a caterpillar riding in it, because that happens.
She chews with her mouth closed, methodically, and it seems like she takes the time to truly taste what she eats.
He doesn't want her eating style to change and in a way that's at odds with his goal, because it takes her forever to eat a real meal.
Without meaning to he finds himself drawn into the film, especially since if he doesn't read the subtitles he won't know what the hell is going on.
Jean Seberg is definitely a sex object.
This much is clear right away.
And the guy is a bad ass.
So they're watching the movie and since he can't imagine she'll eat the rest of the food on her plate he gets dessert.
During a sex scene while she eats her ice cream he finds himself massaging her leg.
Then he runs his hand over her stomach and before he knows it he's kissing her sweet mouth and grasping her breasts.
They hear French in the background.
She understands some of it and he understands none of it.
Then she gets turned on and other things happen.
And it's a successful night.
And the next morning is a successful morning and for a while both of them are happy.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
She's helping him to get her clothes off and both of them are aware this is ridiculous.
Once she's standing chilled in her white panties and bra he realizes this is all wrong.
He's still hoping against hope that maybe she's changed.
So he kind of plucks at her underwear.
At this point the fire is gone from her eyes.
They both look disenchanted.
She gathers her clothes up off the ground and says she's going to take a shower.
"You look thinner," he says.
The reason she knows he's dangerous now is by the absolute calm in his expression.
The fact is that she's about as strong as steel at this point.
So she's also very calm even though she knows she's treading on thin ice.
"You might be right. I heard something online about how sometimes people lose weight before they gain weight."
There isn't a single thing she can say here that will exonerate her.
So, by mentioning the internet there is a broad vagueness combined with something that could easily be proved or refuted.
She's using his own tactics on him, which is quite brilliant.
"Can't you try harder?"
"After my shower I'm picking up some cheesecake."
"What kind of cheesecake?"
"Plus some potato chips for later. Just plain cheesecake."
The irony is that that night he ate most of the cheesecake and potato chips when he was watching the Cowboys play the Broncos.
He got so absorbed in what he was doing that he forgot all about her.
And the next day he avoided thinking about it, because he didn't want to revisit the horrible loss of his team.
It wasn't until three days later when he stepped on the scale that he realized he gained three pounds.
And for the next week he avoided her until he was back to normal.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
When he's there she eats, but she tries not to make a show of it.
She runs five miles five times a week as usual.
She doesn't think he'll ever ask her to stop running.
He likes it when she runs.
They actually keep their distance.
He thinks he has embarrassed her.
The truth is they both feel embarrassed.
It occurs to them that normal people don't act this way.
He feels like he shouldn't have to ask her to gain weight.
She should have gained weight after they got married like everyone else.
He knows that one of the reasons he chose her was that he knew she wouldn't turn into a cave woman when she hit thirty-five.
But couldn't she look more comfortable?
What he wants is to come home to her in sweatpants on the couch eating wheat thins, and watching some show that he can feel superior about her watching.
And as long as he's known her she had a lot of promise tending toward that.
She doesn't watch the quick intellectual shows, she watches a lot of Criminal Minds, but that's formulaic.
She was always more of a spandex woman though.
He thinks about that for a while, picturing her in various different colors of spandex pants.
He wonders if she knows, really knows, what her ass looks like in them.
He thinks she must know and that's why she wears them.
It must be that it's all a part of her plan.
He's even seen older women who are clearly straight look at her butt, because really it's a work of art.
If her butt gets two pant sizes bigger he can relax a little more and not worry about her walking down the street alone.
He isn't afraid something terrible will happen to her.
He's annoyed by all the people who will get a good look while he's trying to work.
Since he met her he feels like he does a lot less of his own work.
He just knows that he accomplished more before she came into his life.
Yeah maybe he was doing nefarious things, but they were his nefarious things.
Now he's spending ample amounts of time on what he can see is a disgraceful habit.
She is his disgraceful habit.
So after a couple weeks of avoiding her he decides to confront her.
Again he walks up to her in the kitchen, but this time her back is turned, and she's doing dishes.
He walks up close to her and puts his hand on her lower back.
He does it out of respect actually, to let her know he's there.
She knows she's supposed to keep washing the dishes.
Then he slips his hand under her waistband and squeezes her ass.
He's trying not to squeeze it like he's the witch in the gingerbread house; testing to see if she's properly fattened up for the slaughter.
But he's gauging it.
Her pants aren't very form fitting and he's trying to abstain from sex until she's at least five pounds heavier, but it's hard to see...
He caresses her again and it feels like maybe she's softer.
But then she shifts when she turns the faucet off and accidentally flexes her muscles.
His grip loosens, and he knows he's in trouble.
He knows he's in trouble, because the only way he's going to get a good look is to take her clothes off.
This time he turns her around facing him.
And he's instantly jarred by the look on her face.
Her eyes are smoldering and she has a slightly challenging grin on her face.
He grabs her face and presses his lips against hers.
The whole time she keeps looking him in the eyes.
Then he begins to undress her.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
He looks at her sideways, squinting his eyes, as if judging her breadth from a distance, like she is some kind of cargo ship.
He doesn't come closer, he doesn't want to touch her, he doesn't want to have sex with her.
What he wants is to be with her like a friend.
He always felt like they weren't close enough friends, because she never treated him like a friend.
She was ruthless the way a person can be when they want to be the most desirable love object.
Friends aren't ruthless.
When he thought about all the times she put her body on display, even on an operating table in the ER, he felt a great deal of chagrin.
Yes, he wants her to gain weight.
If she weighs an equal amount to him except in the proper proportions for a woman, or actually a little more, then he will be able to get some rest.
He thinks he's slightly overweight, even though he looks good in clothes.
Plus he knows himself and he knows if given the chance he will get fat.
She watches his shifting emotions.
And she gets a slightly sour expression on her face and closes her lips more firmly together.
"Did you hear what I told you?" He says told instead of said.
She cautiously pauses, she wants to move closer to him, but she knows better.
"Yes." That's it. That's all she says.
"So, what are you going to do about it?"
The thing is that she isn't too thin. To anyone watching this interaction from a bird's eye view it would be confusing.
The truth is she looks perfect.
Why is her husband demanding her to gain weight?
There are a lot of men who would be very proud to have a wife who is so attentive to her physical health and appearance.
She looks scared, you can tell because she's shrinking into herself.
"I'll eat more..." She stops, and then struck by brilliance she says, "I'll eat a lot of ice cream."
He finally looks at her face.
He's looking at her eyes now to see if she's lying.
Then something breaks inside of him, when he looks at her face, and he wants her.
But he waits, because he wants to see if she's doing this on purpose.
She doesn't move, just looks at him hopelessly, and he knows she loves him.
He can't stand it and he assertively grabs her, not roughly, and he spins her around.
He bends her over the kitchen table and pulls her dress up.
And while he's having sex with her his eyes devour her body.
He lets himself think this will be the last time he sees her looking like this.
Monday, October 27, 2014
No one wanted to go back there.
They didn't want to tread on top of dusty magazines.
Or look out of windows coated in yellow sheens.
And the less they looked the more they forgot.
Until they didn't even know what it was that they fought.
The doors separating the front from the back were permanently locked.
And the locks were all rusty and blocked.
The children knew only the sight of those closed doors.
Never opened, merely eyesores.
Then one day a curious son.
Slipped his hand onto a knob and turned it, hoping to have fun.
With a creak the door opened and dust settled all around.
And he coughed, then he looked, and you know what he found?
He found a place where he could always play.
And not have to worry about what to say.
If he slipped away at the right time.
The broken perfection was all finally fine.
Since no one else ventured where no one else was.
No one was there to see him do as he does.
He does what he does when he is alone.
In a way that's different, in a way more at home.
And he tried all the doors and he unblocked all the locks.
The forgotten half of the house was inhabited by a little foxy fox.
The family went on living as though nothing was new.
Their eyes never noticed the missing member of their crew.
By dinner he arrived often hitting his mark.
And in his eyes you could see a fiery spark.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
But most of what you know about me is what you "see" and "energetic" values.
I think I know you pretty well.
I know what type of woman you like.
You like blondes with shoulder length, straight, hair, who are tall and very thin.
You like a face that looks a little bit plain, the opposite of the women of your nationality.
You are very smart, but you think you have an advantage, because you think you don't give away how smart you are.
In some ways you are pretty exposed.
Your vocal patterns and your tone is affected by the new age community.
When you lead a class you sound like a teacher from the east giving a discourse.
I don't think you could even take on the accent from your youth anymore.
You are kind of like Tom Cruise's megalomaniac character in Vanilla Sky?
I think that's the movie where he plays that character.
You recreated yourself.
You essentially transformed your persona as a result of your childhood wounds.
What you can't change no matter how hard you try is the one thing that truly affects me.
I had a crush on you for a day, but then I really thought about who you are, and I'm a realist.
Besides what you see of me isn't the person I used to be.
I know a lot about you.
You know very little about me.
You think you know a fair amount from what you found online, but that's tempered.
I guess you know enough to know I got damaged, but you don't know why.
Every time I go and sit in your class I learn more about you, because you talk to us, but we can't talk to you.
I've been formulating a response, here, where I know you'll find it.
If you feel like you're losing your mind, actually it's the reverse.
Now you know I'm not who you thought I was.
I don't think I want you to get to know me.
It doesn't really matter if I used to be your type, because I'm not anymore, and I don't want to be.
What I wanted from you, I already got.
You got involved, because your antennae picked up on something that resonated with you.
Now you're a part of it.
And you can't go back.
I was grateful and scared of what would happen in the beginning.
But hey you're misaligned.
What else would I like to say to you, while I have the chance?
What happened to me?
I went up against an emissary of death and I died over and over again.
Your comments about breathing in a breathing exercise don't apply to me, because each breathe feels unnatural.
My lungs and my heart are on timers.
You're going to die too, but you'll come back and live longer.
You don't have a choice.
What I want from you is for you to not underestimate me or yourself.
I'm trying to fit in here, but I don't belong to this crowd.
I come to practice in your class and every time I feel like a stranger in my heart.
My heart resides somewhere else.
So, I'll let you go, I know you're busy.
Thank you for your help.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
When I see the shape of your head I feel uncomfortable.
I'm not sure how adding glasses is supposed to hide your identity.
Maybe I should wear mine more often.
When you said you felt "squirrely" it sounded just like when you said "froggy."
That also made me feel weird in a bad way.
I thought about naming this poem doppelganger, but it sounds too cool.
And it's like an evil twin situation, which doesn't count if you are your own doppelganger.
To me a true doppelganger is actually a different person.
I feel like part of your persona is to appear ridiculous.
As in I cannot even fathom how you think you're hiding in plain view.
Plainview would actually be a better alternative.
It's so exasperating to hear you talk for me.
At least it's totally obvious who you are.
I don't think I'm in any danger of mistaking you for someone else.
However sitting in the same room as you is disquieting.
An aside: don't feel bad for the subject...he doesn't exist.
The biggest mistake you made was when you told me you thought you were working on a higher level, but then you saw what I was doing.
You never should have said that.
You told me everything I needed to know in one sentence.
Anyway, sorry I can't stand you.
I knew you wouldn't go away.
I almost called you once, but your number got lost.
I don't have much else to say.
Maybe you should find a different woman to dance with.
And you seem to think your contrivances are good, but they are horrible.
Now that I'm used to seeing you without your hat on, I'd say wear it.
Maybe if you wear a hat and don't speak we can get along.
I don't know why I dislike you so much.
If you were a woman and I talked to you this way you would try and kill me.
The strange thing is I feel like you are a magnet for my cruelty.
Or perhaps in some twisted way I'm protecting you.
We'll never know.
I have never run backwards ever in my life.
I run in circles sometimes, but we're passing each other and running into each other, on our way up.
Picture a pyramid shaped mountain with a castle at the top.
We're all running around and around the mountain...
Every time we make a loop we get closer to the top and the circle gets smaller.
But the circumference of the base was so broad that it takes us over a third of our lives to get close to the top.
The castle looks different to each of us.
For me it looks gothic, like some of those castles in movies like "The Dark Crystal."
The strange thing is that I don't remember whether there was a castle in that movie, but I know what I think it looks like.
The man I'm in love with reached the top recently, but I'm not there yet.
But I saw him, because he took a walk back down to see me.
But when we saw each other there were other people around.
So we acted like we didn't know each other.
When I think about the times we've done that I feel happy in my heart.
I love seeing him and pretending I don't know him.
It's one of my favorite things.
I think he likes to test me.
To see if I still love him.
Comforting for me, is the idea that he'll provide for me no matter what.
He provides me with endless adventures in life no matter where I go.
He'll bring me what I need when I need it.
I don't have to seek outside of myself.
I can be whole and throw away desperation.
I still do things that don't make sense.
When I give someone a piece of myself it doesn't mean I want anything back.
I really don't.
I like having different parts of myself with people in different places.
I thought maybe it was a bad sign if I gave something and was instantly asked for more.
But no, I think it must mean something about someone's desire to take all of me.
I can't say.
Actually the more I run up, the more confused I feel.
It's because I'm surprised.
I thought I successfully destroyed myself in a certain sense.
But here I am and I...there's something I missed.
Come back, come back to me.
I want to know.
Give me the secret.
It has something to do with playing a part so completely you believe yourself.
It has something to do with playing a part so well your flesh starts acting too.
It has something to do with being so believable it becomes real and the marks are set in history.
And for me, only me, it means speaking to people in their own language after hearing them for only a moment.
And it means being courageous enough to allow people to work everything out with me.
So that when they walk away they do it when they're ready.
So, here I am, and I'm speaking to certain people.
But not others.
There are some people I can only speak to when they call on me.
When they call on my heart.
And if you called me to tell me you couldn't handle it.
I heard you saying so and despite your confusing messages I hung up the phone.
When you come back around to me in your heart I think I'll know.
There are people who don't understand my writing.
I don't say anything that doesn't mean anything to me.
Everything means something to me.
It doesn't matter: but I don't write for other people.
I hear what I write before I write.
This poem was written before I sat down.
All of my poems are the same anyway.
They are between me and one other person.
How could the content all be between just two people?
I don't know.
But, well, sometimes, wow I thought I lost him.
But I never did.
This emotion is so particularly strong today - resurgence of overpowering love.
I have to run now.
He's not even in the castle anymore.
He's gone, but I have to make it to the top.
Urgency - while I stall...because I want to say:
I actually don't know who "he" is.
Which is what he wants.
-I think-but thinking is overrated.
If I listened to my mind tell me what to do I would run for ten minutes instead of an hour.
My mind thinks work is overrated.
I realize I could have stopped when I was "ahead."
"I have to run now" was a great place to stop.
This has never been about writing the best poetry.
And actually it's not about love either.
I'm having a conversation with someone I like to talk to.
When I write I see evidence of his response scattered throughout my life.
I write about fourth wall breaks.
I don't write about myself finally making it to the mythical castle and having all my dreams fulfilled.
Actually what probably happens is I get there and the place is drafty.
And the light is terrible, so my lover left, because he couldn't paint there.
So, when I saw him as he was pretending to not know me as he walked down, he had no intention of coming back.
And in our relationship we're usually completely across the earth from each other.
It used to be that he acted like he didn't even want to see me.
Now I feel like maybe I don't want to see him, because I know what it means.
But damn me, because I underestimate him all the time.
And he can't underestimate me, because as fast as my processor works, it also produces public announcements.
How much I hold back being irrelevant.
And in this moment I realize what he's done to me.
He's given me a career in a position he can control.
However, I won't be surprised by alterations.
My point of view on the love of my life is that he is capable of absolutely anything.
A revelation he told me about a long time ago.
A revelation he came to by way of me.
A revelation neither of us thinks is a revelation anymore.
I think I might be a little too fixated.
Perhaps an understatement.
I might be waiting in the castle for a while.
Just to have a place to think.
And when I sigh, you'll know, and I'll know.
I have to go.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
I never thought of him as exactly evil.
I gave him a lot of credit.
But when I pull back and look at the situation from a distance...
He is evil.
I think part of the reason I gave him so much credit for being a good person...
Was because if I said he was a bad person he wouldn't have any hope.
When I told him I loved him it was the easiest way to ruin his plans.
And what I'm saying now is supposed to turn him against me.
How long are "you" going to wait?
It is probably the most infuriating thing I have ever experienced.
I tried to do your job for you I was so tired of waiting.
I'm not very good at it.
In case you haven't noticed I am not particularly good at anything anymore.
The part that scares me is what if this just goes on and on?
What if you have a plan I don't know about?
In which I am enslaved.
Because usually I see two options.
One in which I am underestimating the amount of time I'm going to have to put in...and the other in which I am overestimating the amount of time I have before you do something.
Because part of me thinks you're losing your patience.
I have the feeling you aren't making your move on me, because when you finally do you will run out of time.
But if I'm right, you keep coming back to what you want to do to me.
So we're running around in endless circles.
I can't honestly believe that what you want to do to me is make me into a big success.
If you know what I mean.
I can only go for so long pretending this is going to have a happy ending.
The ground beneath us is unstable.
Everything is so convoluted at this point.
I feel like you may be relying on me to do something here.
If we just keep going...
I'll be busy endlessly with this ridiculous thing I'm doing.
Sometimes you only find out what you want to know from me.
Here's the scoop: I don't think it matters whether or not the project is polished.
As is is might be better, because it shows the cracks.
If the story gets blown everyone will know enough to get the point.
I can't imagine that you honestly care anyway.
This whole situation is a big mess.
I'm actually considering coming to a halt.
There is only so much I can take.
Everyone seems to think I'll be fine.
How people come up with this idea is truly beyond me.
I don't think I have anything else to say.
My intention is almost to piss you off.
I'll be here in my box the next time you come to take a peek.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
"I don't remember, but this is all wrong," replied Beach.
"But you have to admit that on many levels we're, well, not early, but precisely on schedule."
"I would feel better if this wasn't all hinging on hitting our marks down to the split second."
"You can have it this way, or we all speed up and find ourselves in unison again."
"Can I have it so we create an optical illusion, and it looks like we arrive before we do?"
"What a silly, stupid question. We've been doing that this whole time."
"Sometimes I forget what we've done."
"To God I could become as forgetful about our operations as you."
"To the Devil I could remember what I've done."
"To us becoming less of ourselves with every passing day."
"How dignified, and yet totally slatternly."
"Why is it when women..."
"We've no gender orientation. Just stop."
"You fermé la bouche."
"I don't want to have this conversation again."
"If you put it that way. I wish I could walk away from you right now."
"I wonder why it is they love us."
"Is it because they can count on us?"
"Men love us too."
"We will always be here, and when we're not they won't be either."
"Remember back in the day when they were all naked, with long hair? That was when they stayed off the sand. They lived in the trees."
"Somewhat accurate account."
"There are two things I will remember when I die. The entire universe in its entirety and mermaids."
Saturday, September 27, 2014
"There, I think it's this one."
"Nooo, I remember it was around the time we got Charlie to review the calls for us when we were busy."
They both stop like they reached a dead end.
"There are hundreds of hours of audio between R and C. This is going to take some time."
"What I want to know is DID R tell C to either use all contractions or not use them at all?"
"You mean outside of dialogue?"
"Who cares about the dialogue! Are we really being this fanatical?"
"Look she saw us talking about whether or not she should be editing it that way. Did she KNOW from the beginning and this was just an excuse to slow us down?"
"You don't have to spell it out for me like I'm an idiot! I know why we're doing this!!"
"Now you're wasting my time talking about this."
"You brought it up."
"You know better than to question my authority."
"Ok, ok, so maybe it was this clip..."
"If we can generate some point of reference we'll have a better chance of figuring out what day it was on."
"So, R just went to New York, so it HAD to be before that, which was this last Wednesday."
"I feel like it might have been before she went camping, or when she was in Telluride."
"We're going to spend more time looking for the file than she is going to spend going over all the edits she made."
"Good." They both smile.
"Just do this right. Tell Josh someone misinformed her and now she HAS to "revise" (don't say edit) the whole book."
"The WHOLE book?"
"Yeah, because...ok...really? Do I have to spell this out for you?"
"Oh, because we want to buy some extra time?"
"Exactly, we make it seem like she's bogged down through no fault of her own, and we've got to find out WHO gave her the misinformation."
"Okay, but do we lay it on R even if she misheard what he said?"
"Tempting, but that scenario doesn't work, because remember this guy is totally naive. He has no idea what's going on and we don't want to give him more leverage than he already has. This is ridiculous."
"Honestly, that brings up that point. What are we doing? Are you thinking this through...the R situation?"
"All we have to do is distract her with Joe. Did you see how she reacted to him? I was almost jealous."
"I almost feel better leaving her with R babysitting."
"Dude, we've been focusing on this for long enough. Do you even realize what it would look like from an outsiders perspective?"
"Either like we're friends but we're both pussy whipped by the same woman and the weirdest part is we're okay with it. Or like we have some agenda in which we profit from the hard work she's been doing."
"Anyway, let's find the file. We can just turn the audio on and listen to the entire thing from one month ago until now."
"It'll take us under twenty-four hours, because we know it wasn't in the last week."
"We'll need juice, sandwiches, and porn."
"We have the porn. Call Kyle and get him to make a grocery run."
I only say that people are impressed by me, because I can see that they are.
A lot of people have told me I'm beautiful.
A secret I don't frequently admit (surprisingly) is that my fiancé tells me I am the most beautiful woman in the world, and I think it's true.
When I look at myself in the mirror this is what I see: full, shiny hair the color of corn silk, maybe a little darker.
When I wear my signature lipstick my lips look pretty, also I know how to part them slightly in the middle, like a model.
When I have no lipstick on I think they look a little thin, but I would never admit it.
My eyes used to be almond shaped, but now they are very big and round.
I secretly think hazel is a better color than blue, because when I was a kid someone made fun of the color of my eyes.
The child had blue eyes and liked a girl with the same.
Blue is overrated!
I hate things that are overrated, unless I'm overrated, even then sometimes I hate it.
My body: My feelings about my body change from day to day.
I'm tall, but not too tall.
My upper body and my lower body are like two different countries.
Sometimes when I go out I don't feel particularly attractive, but I know I am because people stare.
I think I used to spend a lot of time quietly thinking, but now I talk a lot.
I have to get my opinions across and share what is going on for me to feel validated.
I'm afraid I might have turned you off by talking about how beautiful I am.
The truth is that I am deeply insecure.
People always leave me!!
I have spent a lot of time analyzing why this must be and I am no further.
What I came to was that they don't like me when I am myself.
I am just being myself!
So if I look back I see how many times I have reinvented myself.
Since it is not how I look that they don't like I feel like it must be something deeper.
Sometimes I know I am worthy.
Look, I know what I have done for people, and I did everything I could.
Somehow I am being misunderstood.
Sadly I don't know if it will be one of those situations where later people see the truth.
I don't think it can be, because a lot of what I've done is a secret.
And I can't even describe it to you here.
The inability of people to see certain positive aspects in me makes me hate them.
It is that feeling of speaking, but no one hears the words, until I'm screaming and still no sound.
There is a feeling of people not realizing how important I am.
I try to show everyone by creating proof, but I finally realized what is truly important about me is not what I am telegraphing.
So what does it mean?
Should I abandon the image I created to show the world?
Maybe if I abandon it the real me can come out.
She is so afraid.
There are people who noticed her when I wasn't looking.
I wonder who they are?
Will they hurt me?
I don't want her to be exposed.
I'm afraid she'll be threatened.
So like a protective mother I ferry her to safety wearing an extravagant disguise.
Talking about it here is a big step for me.
If I can see from the reception of this poem whether or not people love me, maybe I'll take a leap.
I am a part of history.
Not a big part, but I am relevant to the world.
My survival is more important than a lot of people know.
Sometimes I think that if I disappeared no one would care or that they would be happy.
There must be people who know that and what are they doing to help me?
In the past I created a set of unspoken rules with people.
The people in my life must support me no matter what.
It is everyone else's responsibility to accept my behavior whether it be bad or good.
What I forgot to ask myself is: is it okay for me to accept my own negative behavior?
The answer I found repeatedly was "no."
So I am setting a double standard.
If I really expose the truth maybe I want to be alone.
Or maybe the cast of characters in MY life no longer serve me.
I have to do what I want to do for myself.
I cannot go on doing what I think other people want.
They seem to think I am doing whatever I want.
But when everything got fuzzy was after I started working on other people's agenda.
I started lying.
A little in the beginning and then more and more.
And at least a couple people started noticing that the story didn't match up.
I found myself telling a story to people and I started believing it.
I feel like I must be going crazy for real.
I'm an actress, but this is ludicrous.
The weird thing is that I heard people questioning me.
Question marks all around me.
I think maybe I can get away.
If I start over somewhere else and try hard enough the questions won't follow me.
I want to say to someone that I am still here, inside.
I am still here.
It is a miracle.
Can't you all see?
It is a miracle that I exist as I do.
Be happy I exist in any form at all.
You may be surprised to hear me express myself this way.
Someone I used to know seemed like she never caught onto my act.
I wonder how she could have known and never revealed it to me?
It makes me feel exposed.
I don't want this bright light shining on me like this.
Stop looking at me!
The reason I don't want anyone near me is that they begin to see what is going on.
I have a right to be dignified.
Well, not that many people know.
Maybe I can just salvage what remains and carry on.
I wonder if people know that I don't give up easily?
When the surface of the water calms down I could slip into a deep current and be ferried away.
If I already feel alone how hard could it be to start over somewhere where no one knows me?
Enough, enough, I know who I am.
I am the Ash tree.
Friday, September 26, 2014
I'm already getting hijacked?
People get hijacked by their children, by their cats, by their minds.
I finally "let go" of some parts of my past that no longer serve me.
Instantaneously I found myself with a fresh serving.
Sometimes things go on and on, but then you wake up one day and everything is different.
I'm not incredulous though, I'm just slightly appalled.
For some reason I thought I was going to react the same way I have.
I thought, why should this day be any different?
And then I got hijacked and it was different.
The word brings to mind a serious threat on board an airliner.
I don't know if I have to explain that this is not what I'm talking about.
If you know me you have probably been hijacked by me at some time or other.
It can take forever to disentangle yourself from the mess.
You find yourself sorting through the remnants maybe muttering to yourself.
Cue deafening silence.
What I'm trying to say is I think God hijacked me.
Or one of his democratic organizations.
My part is becoming increasingly complex...I can't keep track of what I'm doing.
I try to remember who I am only to find some aspect of myself taking over and running the ball.
I'm not really very good at defense.
Apparently I'm also not a very talented writer since I'm using football analogies?
What has the world come to.
No question mark.
I am only beginning to realize how much I offend people by being myself.
Let me let you in on some more of my offensive opinions and thoughts.
Actually I don't want to be a writer and my own critic.
It cancels too much out.
There are critics on every corner.
Just wait, I tell myself.
My flight has achieved cruising altitude.
I don't really know that many passengers.
Plus, I'm flying commercial, not in a Lear jet.
Already we're recycling some of the same faces?
My modus operandi right now is to accomplish four things, four solid things every day.
If there are some missteps and I only accomplish one of the four, that is still one more than zero.
Which even if you are a monkey reading this you should be able to calculate.
I think the cockpit is filled with baboons.
I sound like a writer I know.
I don't know how to neatly bring this together in the end.
You know, somehow insert the word hijack again, and finesse the whole thing.
My blog is hijacking my reputation.
At least it doesn't precede me.
I can't, I have to stop, no moooore.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Monday, September 22, 2014
I realized that just because I didn't use the information I had before it might be more useful now
What I thought came from years of what I felt
So without giving too much away I must tell you what I discovered
I learned something about myself that seems true
My home is below Ann Arbor and I stand there under trellises of flowers
It seems like I'm waiting for something but I'm not
I suppose I stand where I got married
I don't accomplish anything
I don't want anything
Despite the lack of interaction I'm healthier than I was surrounded by friends
My closest friend is myself
In the daytime I live through my eyes
At night I smell the honeysuckle
And I am never away from my footprints
I like to watch my shadow shout to me
"You are alive!"
In the prism where I was born I had the same right
But beyond me I only see outlines
I think I know what I'm looking at
But I don't really know
I think I smell the flowers
But I only sense what I remember
To ponder is light for me
To sink into the background is like black velvet
Sometimes I tried to administer false truths to people who would listen
But they backed away
I felt them recoil from the lies I told to get the attention I wanted
Since I don't want anything I don't need to prove I'm in love
It doesn't seem to matter if someone else is in love with me
Publicly it might matter in a superficial way
Silent love does not interest the people who come to watch the shore with me
They want to know if I love someone else
If I don't, it is proof I'm not what they're looking for
Some days I bend toward the earth
Or reach toward the sun
Or push my roots deeper into the ground
When I love again I will be beyond reach of the passersby
Has my ability to love broadened or am I narrow?
To grow I know I must strip everything from the past away
And tomorrow doesn't promise to keep me warm
There is no promise but the ones I keep with myself
I am only standing here subdued
I may never move again
But I stand married to no idea or religion or hope for the future
I stand bound to a concept
It tells me things when I listen
And I know I am in love with the process
Of finding and finding again
Tossed off are the misperceptions
And welcomed are the only words I truly know
Seared into the soft gray matter
Like strings of sparks and the ashes of stars
Thursday, September 18, 2014
And my first impulse is to tell you right away
But then I realize I can't
We're not supposed to
I can't cross that line
So instead I'm stuck with brilliant material no one else will understand
Agh, I'm like balloon person tethered by people from a distance
I stopped looking at strangers too
I feel it's impolite
With you I wasn't bored, but I was in trouble
Now I'm so busy somehow
I'm pretty busy hating this eclectic coffee shop mix
I've become more confusing
Because I spend a lot of time with my mouth shut thinking
Thinking with your mouth open
Doesn't look like you understand your thoughts
When I write something great do I know it?
I heard the question
But I felt like avoiding it was the best policy
I think of something
And again I think who cares?
If I don't care you won't care
Hypothetically people exist who do care about that which I don't care about
Either this is complicated or very banal
So when I realize I can't text you or call
The final word from above is that you might not want it at all
To give myself pleasure at your expense is cruel
I don't believe it though
I'm pretty sure we could pick up right where we left off