Tuesday, March 1, 2016


In order to de-escalate a situation people usually have to agree to a compromise. I guess that's why intensities sometimes diminish over time, it's hard to fuel that kind of stamina. I'm not talking about sex. NOT. I'm talking about conflict resolution. I'm the absolute worst conflict resolver. I'm not talking about Resolve the cleaner. Stay on track. Are you with me? I'm the worst, because I usually loudly disagree and actively fight the person without any sense of the repercussions. Maybe that person is used to getting their way because of money and power or fame or something and I come along and disagree. Almost, it seems, to drive people crazy on purpose. This isn't nice and I wonder why I don't get a good reception. It's infuriating. And then there are all the people who've infuriated me.

So with me it's actually been, "Escalation, escalation, escalation, escalation" until there was no ceiling, like when the elevator in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory broke the glass one. At this point the reason why people can't really reach me is because I'm ascending through space at a very rapid rate, but some day I'll be stopped. Fixed in one place. With nowhere to run or hide. I'll be exposed for what I really am, which's been hidden for a long time. Read into it what you will. You might not know the whole story even if you've been picking my life apart like some kind of dismantling. And I shock you and you think I'm strange over and over again. I'm shocking people on purpose. Because I'm imprinting them the most at the very beginning. If I can leave a strong first impression on someone I have a better chance of being remembered. And people remember a lot. I can see people telling stories about me. What happened. What it was like. They're not all good, but they're full of life. I'm probably the most alive person I know. Oh the irony. I'm like some kind of rare bird with liberty protected by a council. And my writing is shocking because it's something you know you've never heard before and yet it's so familiar. And in my mind I see the future and I see my face on screens being broadcasted across the galaxy and that's what they call mental illness.

I don't trust and I don't believe. And people don't want me to write about this, because they want to project whatever they can onto me. Strangely maybe in hopes I'll wear it and take it with me. It's a matter of time. It's a matter of time before the truth comes out. The truth always comes out. Sometimes it just takes a while. It's not possible to de-escalate a situation that's so far out of hand. The only thing I can think of is to wait for nature to do it's work and everything has an end.

I'm a dreamer. But I'm also a realist.

My mind is cluttered because I've been hoarding up there.

Monday, February 22, 2016

In a Dream - Duplicate Post

In a dream I had I was sitting with a journalist at a press junket and my man was watching us from behind the camera. "They" weren't sure if I would be able to handle the topic of conversation. The journalist covertly presented the topic to me while we were chatting...she was hinting. She had long shiny thick chestnut brown hair, manicured nails, expensive flawless makeup, and brown eyes. It was her nails that I admired with something close to envy. They weren't very long, but it was the shape that struck me, it was as if they'd been trained into perfection over time. And they were painted a shiny navy blue that looked good with her chocolate brown summer coat cinched at the waist. Her nails matched her jeans. The woman was a standard of excellence that can only be found in L.A. A woman size zero, but still with curves. A competitive woman who trained and ate on a strict diet so her size zeros wouldn't pinch her when she sat down. There had to be a little breathing room.

So when the journalist started hinting to me that the topic was going to be on food and dieting I switched gears. I complained about eating nearly an entire bag of mini marshmallows and feeling like my teeth were going to fall out. She didn't complain about anything. But she did say eating a slice of cheesecake at The Cheesecake Factory is probably worse. And we laughed. That was when my man walked away with a slight smile on his face. He knew I was going to be fine. He was like a father watching over me, because he wanted to keep me innocent. He liked me being innocent.

Friday, February 12, 2016

Fair Game

Bring me to the shore and let me see the water.
You might look at me wondering if I'm going in.
I'll avoid the undertow and the rocks.
But somehow there's still a wondering - about whether or not I'll swim out too far - never to return to you.
Or whether - even though I can swim - I might leave anyway - it's just like me.
And all this time we're standing there and hearing the water and watching the sand get damp over and over.

In the end I do go in but I keep my clothes on - for the most part.
And even though it's been a long time I'm swimming like a dolphin.
I can save you from the shipwreck and the sharks.
The sharks swim around me but they leave me alone.
You see me swimming and diving and there's a silent joy - like a single tear appearing and falling down my face.
Leave your clothes on, stand on the shore, stay dry, stay warm, you shine the way home to me.