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Monday, November 30th, 2009
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it must be love.
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Monday, November 23rd, 2009
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I broke up with Brandon.
And got back together an hour later.
I'm a fucking idiot.
But basically...I'm okay with that.
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Monday, September 28th, 2009
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Saturday, September 5th, 2009
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on this day things were bad.
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Thursday, August 13th, 2009
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the earth is on fire in bonnie doon.
three thousand acres over night. while the stars collided with the atmosphere, in boistrous display, the rocky crags and wirey brush burnt to cinders, evaporated from the surface of the planet.
the hot stiff air of the afternoon has given way to the unusually warm, sixty three degrees of thick dark at ten p.m. no need for a sweater and the breeze caresses my shoulder and neck, trailing down my back like a lovers palm.
on the way to scotts valley seven fire trucks whizzed and buzzed and sirened passed us in front of the high school where we pulled over to let them through.
lying on the lounge chairs in emma's back yard balls of light dance across the sky, dimmed and dulled ever so slightly by the reflection of the half moon. we sat in silence and stared, gasping and sighing at the explosions that streaked across the pale grey night, far behind trees, and beyond houses, seeming to land far and away. i imagined a firey collision, the enormous flash and sizzle of something galactic impacting the earth, folding vast craters into the ground. the shake of the platelets, vibrating and bouncing like a human spine in a car crash, reverberating through the core like a global game of telephone.
every one seems tense. all emotions heading toward some inescapable vaccum somewhere near but just out of sight. sucked tight to the folding chairs all we can do is look up.
back at home in the backyard i see more shooting stars. one so close it seems i might have been able to climb my neighbors roof and catch it. keep it in a cupboard, or under the bed. in the top right desk drawer amongst the unanswered letters, fortunes and scraps of paper. meaningless artifacts comemorating my days in delicate rubbish.
at five this afternoon the sky turns an eerie shade of sunset orange many hours before it should even be thinking of doing so. it's the sun mirroring through the billows of smoke coming down from the hills to the west. i am drawn outside into its hugh and start moving, farther and deeper into it's grasp, straight to the ocean.
looking back towards the warf nothing seems out of the ordinary, blue skies with no clouds. surfers and sea birds and boats glide along the surface. but towards natural bridges the brackish, dark brown clouds stretch all the way across the bay to monterey, permeating snowy ash. the ocean itself is the color of undeveloped film, brown and grey, flashing in reflective waves with it's normal blueish green. near the the coastline though is an unnerving golden pink, undulating and shimmering fiercly on the calm, virtually waveless sea.
it is this lack of motion that causes the equally unnerving quiet that lays itself over everything. ten miles out to sea you can hear the engine of a speed boat hum and whir, every spoke on every bicyle clicks and ticks sharply. conversations and footsteps twelve feet away on the moving legs of sunburned tourists echo with surreal clarity. there is no wind to speak of.
once at the natural bridges beach you can trace the line where the smoke comes out of the hills and trails it's way over the bay. the sun burning a bright red and orange hole through the levating wall of smoke. it hurt my eyes to look at it but was all at once so mesmorizing.
bonnie doon is on fire.
and so am i.
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Thursday, July 16th, 2009
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He's in L.A. and I miss him. She's in Georgia and I miss her even more. That hand comforts me everyday they are gone and occasionally grabs my ass.
Ecstasy.
"They feel so cool and soft on my skin." He said as his nerves siezed up to meet the flowers showering onto his warm, smooth back. "And they smell amazing". We were coming down then, but Bri had wanted to pick roses, to find the perfect one with the best scent and softest, most vibrant petals. So at eleven o'clock at night we bundled up, yet with bare feet, we stumbled through the front door laughing into the night. This particualr rose bush has been thriving at the end of Stockton Ave, my first home, for as along as I can remember. The nostalgia amplified with the euphoria of the drugs was overwhelming. I and this lovely young women, so often with the most delicate looks adolescent of sadness on her face, giggled and plucked small, pink blossoms from this avalanche of flora hanging from the chain link fence that seperates my culdesac from Derby Park. When my neighobor parked his car and got out we ducked deeper inside the bush, against the gate, frightened, probably of the moment ending, or of the impeding reality that life outside my musky room, hot and humid as a Georgia summer from all the breath and sweat, would collapse. The roses felt amazing, they were cold and soft and weightless. Bri's pale skin reflected the glow of the growing moon and contrasted starkly the black shadows of the weaving leaves and branches of the plants. We filled the red knit bag to the brim and returned to the house. There on the floor Sarah, Brandon and Parker lay on the papazan coushion, running their fingers through eachothers hair and up and down their sides, smiling and moaning softly, contentedly.
We reached into the bag and let the petals fall deftly onto their bodies, flinging them this way and that, like we were heading a wedding procession. The smiles and laughter were contagious and we soon collapsed on them, picking up petals and holding them to our nostrils, drinking up the heavenly aroma.
Everything was warm then, even the flowers had absorbed our heat and had begun to wilt into the mass of blankets and pillows strewn about my room. Our brains uncoiled themselves from around the bright, electrifying feelings of love and openess, and relaxed into a sleepy, haunting, dream.
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oh, yoshi. yoshi, or as he is most often called due to his amazing size, "piggy", ran away and got lost in the canyon on arroyo seco. piggy is parker's adored feline companion of many a lazy afternoon gossiping and playing video games and a staple at all functions in the mozee house. while dazed and confused on this rather uncharacteristic vacation piggy managed to him self into some trouble. some coyote shaped trouble. his poor little tail suffered the worst of it, having two discs seperated, he would have to loose it...or maybe not. maybe for the small fourtune of two thousand odd dollars he could keep his beloved little tail.
not to mention that it helps to have friends in high places.
parker simply couldn't bare the idea of piggy sans one little tabby tail and his mother agreed to pay for the surgery.
lucky duck (or whatever), i say.
however i will put in that i truly adored the style. i think yoshi is due for a shave.
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Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
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well not really.
but from now on i will post one picture a day and my memories associated with it.
full name: albina marie marimacova illeana katrina corbacha likala. mostly we warmly refer to her as her "ali".
on a pretty typical non-work day of lazy indecsion i called ali and she said "come to the tide pools, we're all here". despite the all around normality of this particular march-ish (i'm not much with linear time) afternoon, it was atypically hot. sweltering by early spring standards in santa cruz and without a doubt a lovely, strangely windless day.
two minutes after i got off the phone with ali, myjah called to tell me to go to the tide pools. at this moment i can't recall if she picked me up, or if we parked the car at my house or if i walked alone.
i descended the withering, weathering stone steps that i'd climbed a thousand times since childhood, and walked over to all the usual suspects, all in their bathing suits, already pleasantly sun stoned and beer drunk, laying like lizards in the sun. ali and cassidy were fully clothed up to their nipples in ocean water sitting down in the tide laughing hysterically. hugs all around and they attack me, soggy and smelling of seaweed and cheap whiskey..
we played in the always icy water of the pacific like children for much of the afternoon.
ali threw out her knee trying to kick cassidy and at the same moment the tide swept her feet right out from under her, to brilliant comic effect. she laughed through the pain.
i don't really remember much else of that day and what i do is foggy with pot and thirty two ounces of miller high life. we probably got coffee and walked around downtown as the sunset, or back to someone house and vedged.
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it looks to me like livejournal and i share a birthday.
today i am twenty one.
it's a sunny, blustery day in santa cruz california. gardens all around the city dance. tree tops swivel and sway. it's cold in the shade, but isn't that just always the way around here?
i will go to work for a few hours tonight, then come home, get dressed and go out to have my first legal drink in a bar. then i will come home to my friends and eat sushi and watch a movie.
all i hope for in this new year of my existence is that i will verge even closer to finding out what sort of art i will make for the rest of my life.
I LOVE YOU KRYSTAL! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO US!
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Wednesday, May 13th, 2009
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this is a zine article i snagged from a lovely girls journal that sums up every defense i've wanted to articulate in my support of the "open" relationship.
A couple years ago I had a wonderful experience on tour, in which I finally experienced what it felt like for men’s gender roles to be dissolved: over the course of the tour everyone in the band and the people touring with us were all able to open up and become emotionally supportive and loving, and suddenly the experience of being with a lot of other boys was totally fucking different from anything I’d encountered before. In this safe, encouraging environment, all of us really felt fearless, free, ready to try anything, with no more doubt or need for walls to protect us. On the surface, it was just that we weren’t afraid to touch and hold each other, and that we stopped complaining and being selfish; but the implications beneath this were immense: I realized that there was no need for intimacy and emotional support to be confined to my romantic relationships—I could create and benefit from these things in every relationship.
This got me thinking about my romantic relationships… if there was no reason my friendships couldn’t be more like my love affairs, why couldn’t my love affairs be more like my friendships? When I thought about it, my friendships had a lot going for them that my love affairs never did: my friends were never jealous or possessive, my friendships didn’t tend to adhere to some strict socialized image of what they “should” be, and while my friendships generally continued on in one form or another through my life, once it turned out that a romantic relationship wasn’t storybook-perfect it would end and I wouldn’t see the lover any more.
All my love relationships had proceeded something like this: In the beginning I would meet a beautiful new person, we would broaden each others’ horizons and have wonderful experiences together, and thus fall in love. At first we would feel more free together than either of us ever had, and the world would seem full to overflowing with possibility and wild joy. But slowly, not trusting the rest of the world, or the future in which we might not feel such wonderful things, we would build our relationship into a castle, to keep out the cold and dangerous outside world, and protect our passion by turning it into an institution. Sex, which at the beginning had been something that came more naturally and freely than anything else, became jealously guarded as the seal sanctifying our love relationship, as proof that it was different than all our other relationships. [This seems, in retrospect, like a really strange role for sex to play.] Inevitably, I would wake up one day and realize that the free, feral passion that we’d been united by was gone, replaced by habit, routine, fear of change; the castle we’d built had become a tomb, sealing us inside and away from the outside world, which we’d actually needed all along to bring us each new things to offer the other and sustain ourselves. Inside the coffin, we fought more and more, each demanding that the other prove her love by sacrificing more and more—when love is supposed to enable you to live more, not disable you in return for an assurance of basic companionship, a companionship that often replaces your participation in larger communities anyway. Falling in love had been like finding a secret entrance to the garden of Eden, a gift economy in which we shared everything without keeping score or worrying about “fair trade”; but now we were back in the exchange economy, competing to see who could need more, who could control more. After all my attempts to transcend the stereotyped roles of people in romantic relationships, I suddenly found that I was a “boyfriend” again, with a “girlfriend” (which is not a healthy role for anyone to have to play in this sexist society!), with no idea how it had all happened.
I started thinking about how it is that we all keep falling into these patterns, and how we could avoid them. The issue of limitation kept coming up: the idea that some things had to be off limits for the relationship to work. With my friends, nothing is off limits, and nothing is demanded either: we offer each other whatever we can, whenever we have it to give, and we don’t demand anything that doesn’t come naturally for the other (that’s how my friendships go when they’re healthy, at least, and most of them are at this point). I decided to look into what other models for love relationships there were, and discovered that there is a long tradition of relationships without these limits and expectations: non-monogamous, or “open,” relationships.
I’m not trying to say that monogamous relationships are bad, exactly, but there are a thousand kinds of relationships, and we generally only permit ourselves to try one format, which seems ridiculous. Let’s explore a bit. Every time I hear about another wife/husband/boyfriend/girlfriend cheating and sneaking around, every time I hear someone speaking proudly about how (in the name of monogamy) he has managed to resist doing something he really wants to, every time I must listen to someone pathetically lamenting the feeling of being “trapped” in a relationship or unable to pursue her desires out of some kind of fear, every fucking time I have to witness someone leering voyeuristically (“it’s ok to look if you don’t touch”), it makes me so furious about how we’ve trapped ourselves in this one-option relationship system, accepting these symptoms of suffocation as inevitable instead of experimenting with the other possibilities. More than anything else, our commitment to supporting monogamy as the only option (other than “casual sex,” I guess, which is boring as fuck and bad in other ways too) keeps us from being honest with each other. We’ve got to dare to address all these complexities of life and desire openly, even if it is painful.
We punk rockers always act like we’re such radical people, but when it comes down to acting, in practice, to try out radically different ways of living that might be more in line with our ideas (or just plain challenging, for once, not safe—nothing is more dangerous than playing it safe!), it doesn’t occur to us to question our programmed habits. All too often our revolutionary ideas are just badges, a different ideology for us to vote for, not catalysts for transforming life. This is an issue that affects everyone, where anarchist values can be tried out in the real world, but thus far I’ve seen very little discussion of this subject in our community; if we’re going to question the way the world works, we should take that home to our own personal relationships, and perhaps try out alternatives there first before proposing solutions to the ills of the world. That is—if we really have solutions to the ills of our society, let’s put those into practice to solve the ills of our own relations. Healer, heal thyself.
What an open relationship is:
The most important thing here is to get over the idea that a person’s value is measured by whether she alone can be “enough” for another person. The world is infinite, and so are we—no amount of living, no number or depth of interactions with others should be “enough” for any of us, just as no amount of interactions with a person you love will ever be “enough.” To set borders on what another person can do or feel, as a condition for them to be able to receive my love and affection, goes against everything I believe as an anarchist and a human being; I want to trust others to know what they need, and never limit them—and I certainly don’t think my life will be any richer from the limitations I place on others. We have to free each other to be and become ourselves. This isn’t just about other lovers or sex partners or friends, it’s also about other undertakings, needs, even the desire for space and solitude—it’s heartbreaking how much of our selves our lovers often ask us to sacrifice to be with them.
I want to be valued for what I am, for what I do naturally, not how well I conform to some pre-set list of needs that someone has. If someone else can fill some of those needs, I wouldn’t deny that to anyone, and I don’t want to be jealous when others have something different to offer; I just want the chance to offer what I have to give to those I love, and to remember that those things are priceless and not comparable to whatever unique gifts others may have. None of us should ever be saddled with the role of sole provider for someone’s needs (romantic or otherwise), anyway; our purpose on this earth is not to serve others, but to find ways to be ourselves in ways that also benefit others. By saying the rest of the world isn’t off limits to your partner, you free yourself of the job of being the whole world to your partner.
The monogamy system means that people hesitate to share themselves with others in certain ways, lest they become romantically involved—for since you can only have one romantic partner at a time, you have to make sure that your one partner is a good investment (and here we are back in the capitalist market even in our love relationships). Women check men out for financial means, men ponder whether a woman’s beauty is socially recognized enough to offer the prestige he hopes to get by having her at his side, and no one is able to experiment with partners who don’t meet enough of these criteria to be potential spouses. For that matter—just as in your friendships, there may be people in the world with whom you can spend some wonderfully romantic time once or twice a month, but with whom you don’t have enough in common to date steadily and then marry, etc. (although you often see such mismatched couples, who would have been happy as more sporadic partners, making each other miserable in fifty-year marriages). Non-monogamous relationships make such things possible without paying any price of mutual unhappiness.
I’ve decided that I no longer want to have a hierarchy of value between my friendships and my love relationships: they’re both crucial, irreplaceable in my life, and fuck anyone who wants me to choose between any of them. Not only that, but I’ve stopped classifying things as “love” or “friendship” according to arbitrary superficial details—the feelings I share with certain friends are so intimate, so beautiful, that it’s ridiculous that I don’t call them lovers just because we don’t sleep together. It’s fucking absurd that sex should be the dividing line between our relationships, between which ones take precedence, between who we play with, live with, sleep with, who we take care of first, who we die with at last.
By the same token, in open relationships, sex isn’t weighed down with so many implications and restrictions. Love and desire outside the lines of the monogamy model are demonized and attacked on every front in this society—in the lives of women, at least, and those men who don’t want to be monogamous but also despise the superficiality and sexist bullshit of the “player” scene are unlikely to find support in feminist circles, either. Sex should not be contained, and it should not be made symbolic of anything—it should simply be another way for people to be physically affectionate with each other, to give each other pleasure, to be intimate and emotionally expressive, taking equal responsibility for their involvement but without having to answer to some hypercritical mass, social expectation, or moral taboo.
An open relationship is just that: it is a relationship in which people can be open with each other, and with themselves—in which nothing need be hidden or suppressed or off limits, in which the whole world can be ours to explore without fear of transgressing imaginary boundaries. When we demand total openness and honesty from each other in relationships that include limits and taboos, we’re setting ourselves up for betrayals and dishonesty: to say “be open!” without being receptive to all of the possible truths is fascist and preposterous. We have to be supportive of each other, in every aspect of our individual characters, if we want real honesty to be possible. Otherwise, we’re like Christians at confession with each other, demanding that we reveal all out of some moral imperative, with the whip of shame ready for any straying impulse. We have to learn to embrace and celebrate anything that feels good for each other. If it’s good for our lovers, it’s good for us—are we really so selfish that we can’t see this?
For one example of how this could work, let’s go back to the story of our tour. On the tour, different individuals formed close bonds, and shared private worlds together like lovers do; but they also remembered that for the community to function, they couldn’t withdraw from their relationships with everyone else. And whenever two people needed a break from each other or wanted to expand their horizons a bit, they would spend more time with others, because there were always others around them who also had things to offer. Everyone was safe and cared for, and no one was left out, because we weren’t paired off in exclusive twos.
Conversely, the scarcity economy of lovers which we have right now makes each person hurry to pick another and chain her to him, before he is left alone forever. The alternative, which this fear of solitude prevents us from seeing, seems more preferable: a world without borders, in which each of us would be part of a broader family of lovers and friends, with no distinction made between the two—and no set format for any relationship, so experimentation would be a constant feature of every one, and no relationship could ever get dull or overwhelming. To get to such a world, we just have to get used to not limiting each other, to not thinking of love as a limited commodity.
Jealousy, and what I’ve learned from it:
Yes, I still feel jealous sometimes. I’ve had experiences before of being insanely jealous—not just of another man, but of other things my partners loved or experienced or were excited about. Being able to come to terms with these things has been very important in the development of my confidence and sense of self. It took me years to feel (not just understand) that if my lover loves other things or other people as well, it doesn’t mean I am less valuable. Besides, if (he or) she truly loves me, it’s not because I match up to some list of desired qualities that someone else can outmatch me at—she loves me for reasons that are unique to me, that no one else can compete with, so I have nothing to fear. Love isn’t a scarcity commodity—it increases, just like joy, the more it is permitted and shared and given away. I don’t feel like I have to hoard anyone all to myself now. I know that doesn’t work, or help to protect love (or me, for that matter).
I consider my jealousy a worthy adversary, one that can teach me a lot about myself if I confront it rather than trying to protect myself from it by controlling others. I’ve had experiences in relationships before where lovers of mine have limited themselves in order to protect me from my jealousy, and it has been catastrophic for both of us, you can imagine. It’s just as important to me now that I help others to not be “afraid for me” as it is that I learn not to be afraid for myself.
One of the things jealousy has taught me about is my attitude toward other men. It’s interesting for me to note that I’ve never felt threatened by women whom my partners were attracted to or involved with, but other men have always made me see red. In our society, men are conditioned not to trust each other, to hate each other, to try to “protect” women from other men (which often looks more like hoarding and protecting personal “property”), and this inclination makes sense when you look at how fucked up many men are when it comes to interacting with women. But for me to not trust any men to be something good for my partners (past the point of limited friendship) is outright paranoia and territorial bullshit. If I trust the judgment of my partner, I should trust her to know what and who is good for her, and to not let my each-against-all male conditioning interfere.
Some objections I’ve heard raised to open relationships:
“It sounds good in theory, but the way people feel is more important than these abstractions…”
Some people think that we come up with ideas and theories not as solutions to the real problems of our lives, but to show off what good ideas we can come up with. If it’s not clear by now that I’ve been thinking about this as an attempt to solve rather than exacerbate the problems in my love relationships, then I apologize for doing such a poor job writing this article. And hey—if you think open relationships can be tough on your emotions, just try long-term monogamy. They’re both hard sometimes.
“But human nature—”
Fuck you. Enough said. Human nature is what we make it, and you know that too, whether or not you want to own up to it—you cowardly excuse-mongering bastards.
“I guess that’s fine if it’s what you want to try, but luckily I only want monogamy for myself! I’m all set!”
That’s great for you, if it really is true—for the time being, at least. We’re always so thrilled when our desires happen to coincide with social rules: then it’s easy for us to feel proud of our desires, to think they’re beautiful, since they are universally accepted (indeed, everything around you is reinforcing the idea that what you are lucky enough to feel for the moment is perfection itself)… but you might not always be that “lucky,” you know. Should you (or someone else) ever feel a need that isn’t satisfied by the monogamy system, if you haven’t already made the effort to get others to understand and accept the idea that there are many different acceptable kinds of relationships and desire, you’ll be back at ground zero, finding yourself misunderstood, hated, called slut and whore. Nobody should have to go through that, ever, so whatever you personally need, you have a stake in promoting non-monogamy as a viable option too. Otherwise, we’ll all live in fear of waking up one day feeling a desire that is unacceptable—and that fascist power of moralism over our lives is exactly what I thought we were trying to fight in punk rock.
That’s why I consider myself non-monogamous right now, even though I’ve only had sexual relations with one person over the past five months: I do what I do not out of a commitment to monogamy, but rather a commitment to meeting my own needs and those of others, with no fucking regard for social norms—and to supporting others who do the same thing, whether or not they do it in the same way. Non-monogamy isn’t about sex, anyway—it’s a general approach to relationships with people, as I discussed above.
“Open relationships are bad for women—it’s just another way for men to be selfish, and absent when women need them…”
This is the kind of sexist remark I’d rather not have to deal with, but I’ve heard it before. It reminds me of the old myth that all [“good”] women want “responsible” monogamous relationships, and the ones who don’t must be confused [so it’s OK for us to look down on them, just as misogynist pigs call them sluts]. First of all, women have been the ones who introduced me to most of these ideas. Besides the women I know personally, the very best book I’ve been able to find on this subject (The Ethical Slut, by Dossie Easton and Catherine A. Liszt, on Greenery Press), which I would strongly recommend to anyone interested in the issue, is written by women [if you can’t find it, write me and I’ll lend you my copy]. Second of all, a lot of the men and women involved in pioneering different models for relationships over the past few decades have not been involved in heterosexual relationships, so in those cases this is a totally unfounded criticism. Third—people who say this make it sound like they think men are only emotionally nurturing to women who are paying them off for it with sex and denying them access to any other sex as a way to be sure the payoff will always work. God, I hope that’s not the best we can hope for in heterosexual relations…
Finally—yes, it’s true that men have been conditioned to be selfish and somewhat less than nurturing in their relationships, and just shifting relationship models is not going to cure that. But that’s going to be a problem in whatever kinds of relationships they have, not just open ones, and it has to be dealt with separately. A loving, caring boy is not going to go running off for sex with some stranger when his lover (or one of his lovers) really needs him. There are so many dangers in our sexuality, since so much of it has been programmed by our enemies; we men need to unlearn the pressures that make us seek out superficial sex as a way to avoid real intimacy and support. That brings me to the third objection:
“So does this mean you’re giving up on your romantic dreams, your hopes for living happily ever after, just trading them for a series of sexual episodes with acquaintances?”
No, not at all. I’m not interested in evading personal commitments and long term relationships—rather, I want to protect them from being unnecessarily at risk. I want to secure my romantic relationships, so they won’t be at risk from trivial things like temporary boredom or attraction to others, by creating relationships that are sustainable through changes in my life and needs. That way I can hope to have my lovers as long as I have my friends, ‘til death do us part for real, and no old taboos (or jealousy, insecurity, etc.) will interfere. Sure, this will be hard sometimes, just like everything is hard sometimes—but the rewards of making this work will be greater in every way, I think.
What I’m hoping to do here is free us from the unnecessary tragedies of our love affairs, the insecurities and possessiveness that deny us the commitment and pleasure we could have together. In order to be ready to remove those obstacles, we have to be ready to face the real tragedies head on, with great courage: we can’t demand that others protect us from our insecurities by limiting themselves, and we have to face the fact that there will be moments when we are alone. The price of not doing this is absurd—today, we suffer both the necessary and unnecessary tragedies in our relationships, because of the courage we lack. Is it too much to ask that we try something new?
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here are four videos that make up the kimya dawson show i went to on friday. it was amazing, you should watch. i dare you not to get choked up.
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when the clock struck four it was time to go and i couldn't have been more ready to get out of work. people had been rude, people had been obstanant, people had been down right insane. and it had turned my insides from cotton candy to lead. i had started with morning out with spinach, eggs, sunshine and laughter with my grandmother in the garden. talking serious and silly about everything under the sun. then i got to longs drugs on mission and my resolve to be a good, caring, understanding person just collapsed. i couldn't tell myself "i will not harbor any negative thoughts" enough to dam up the river of them that spilled forth. i let their annoyance become my annoyance. their cruel impatience became my self righteous anger.
it was miserable.
i scowled and sighed and huffed and puffed and none of that made me feel better at all. because it never will. smiling makes me feel better, but somehow i let my brain trick itself into thinking that cursing and spitting is what the situation calls for. that thats what i'm entitled to feel, so why not? but that only makes me feel tired and depressed. it takes so much energy to be outraged. wasted effort.
but still i huffed and puffed and blew my soul down all the way to four o'clock.
thats when something magical happened.
when i looked at the end of my line ali and cassidy were there. i smiled oblvious and said "what are you guys doing here?" and they said "picking you up! the kimya dawson show is tonight, we'd said we'd be here at four on friday, so here we are!"
i was instantly excited to know what i'd been trying to remember all day: who did i make plans with again?
so i ran out the door into the sunshine, ripped on my shirt for all the world to see my bra and belly, replaced my smelly green polo shirt with my big, black, smelly sweater, apologized to my grandma for making her take an unecessary trip and climbed into PJ's jazz filled shotgun seat. after a few errands and urinary detours we walked the few blocks from the parking garage by atlantis fantasy world up laurel to the zomie co-op where already some passionate strings were being plucked and anti-establishment poetry was being cooed into the crowd, making jokes and forming smiles.
this beautiful, flamboyantly painted victorian housed us all in the back yard perfectly. the guests too were flamboyantly attired with hair every color of the rainbow, stripes, piercings, polkadots, dread locks, feathers, beads, and smiles. lots of smiles.
there were kids on the roof. kids in the trees. kids in the grass. kids every where. there were even really little kids that were having a blast. especially since kimya played all of her new album "alpha-butt", a childrens record.
but kimya, she destroyed me. she was so kind and quiet and compassionate. she reminded me of all the reasons my behavior at work was totally unexceptable. all of her songs are so powerful, so full of love and perspective and rightous anger. i wept for a full half of the show. i just couldn't help it. it was to much for my senses to handle, all of this beauty. all of these people appreciating the same ideal of harmony and kinship and ultimate kindness.
afterwards we bolted because ali had to prepare for the barbeque today. my grandmother picked me up in front of the police station and we went home and ate left over chinese food. i told her excitedly all about the show and why i loved it and wished so bad that she could have been there. i would have invited her out right but i never know what those kind of scenes are going to be like. she would have loved it.
then something strange happened. all the demons i'd aquired throughout the day seized my heart all at once and i coudln't move. myjah came over and made it worse. so in a last paniced effort to loosen the vice grip on my heart i went to sleep. confused and angry and hopeless.
i thought it was over but this morning i feel just as bad. just as confused and i have no idea if i'm going to be able to keep it together today. already i've come to the verge of tears over my every little mistake. i can't do anything right. i feel like i'm drowning.
and as always, i don't know whats wrong with me. i don't know whats so heavy inside that makes it hard for me to breathe, i guess it's just everything.
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this post means nothing to most any of you, and thats fine becaues this isn't for you. it's for myjah.
we've come along way, haven't we babe?
( Read more... )
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Thursday, April 2nd, 2009
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i will know commitment.
i will know determination.
i will know disipline.
i will know love.
i will know god.
i will know myself.
i will know stillness.
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Thursday, March 5th, 2009
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man, oh, man. so i've been reading deadjournal entries of mine circa 2002, and i've never been more embarassed in my life.
however, even amongst my over flowing ignorance and utter stupidity, there were bits of genius that for some reason decided to hang in there and be my friend. betsy, "alexandra", was one them.
here is a hiliarious script she wrote one afternoon and tried to get me and katie on board to help her record it on her sweet ass mac.
alexandra: welcome to wpms, radio station of the free-reigning basement. today i have with me scalena and ocifera, members of the national society of air conservationists. scalena, tell me about your organization.
(whisperingyto conserve air)scalena: it's a complex organization, mainly focusing on teaching people how to conserve not just oxygen, but air as a whole, through minimal breathing.
(whisperingyto conserve air)ocifera: yes, to speak isn't to conserve air, but to preserve and spread our message we must do so. in the words of theodore roosevelt: speak softly and carry a big stick.
alexandra: well, what do sticks have to do with anything?
scalena: i'm sure they're important, but that was the only quote we could find about not speaking at the time.
ocifera: we're not very old as an organization, and we're still doing research.
alexandra: i see. well thanks for joining us. you can visit the NSAC web-site at over-came.net/alexandra. breathe through your nose or just hold your breath. see you next week.
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my mood has done anything but improve.
is depression contagious?
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