Goodbye?

I closed a door last night. i sent him a text that basically said that I considered our relationship ( at this point) a loss. for me this year that makes two losses but also, as of last night, I have- rather the universe has- returned two people on the road to recovery… for me this makes the tally a wash, even-keel, balanced out, however you want to say it.That, I told him was something I cannot argue with, a wash, after all, is neither positive or negitive. It tips the scales into ones favor and gives and takes points to equal both sides. So, am I at peace with this? I really think so. I have a quiet settling in my center and now some recent evidene that people WILL arrive back in the rooms and in realitively short time (in the grand sceme of things- >2 years)… even if they seem like one of the most lost-of-causes, but just because they’re back also doesn’t mean… nevermind all that naysay, my center is satisfied enough at seeing them and the desire. That, at least for now, has taken my desperate desire and longing to pull one back, away.

(time passes…) Yesterday I was driving down Dubuque and a train came. I qiuckly dodged it, heading down Prentiss before I remembered I wasn’t going to use that street anymore, but being in such a hurry I didn’t crane my neck to the right, checking out apartment parking lots as I drove by… I was however, abrubtly awakened to the fact that I used that street again and in fact- hadn’t looked! That nagging got to me by the end of the day. after coming and going two more times, i fianally took Prentiss on my last trip home and did look and his car was there. I knew right away because there was only one black chevy that had backed into the parking slot, my first thought? “There’s only one asshole I know that parks like that!”
So, am I over it? Maybe

Dearest David,

I’ve been thinking of writing you a letter for a few weeks now, but simply do not have the physical and emotional energy to imagine getting out my laptop and sitting down quietly to type, but oh the essays I have composed to you from my pillow so many nights in longing…

I was talking confidently to a close collegue of mine, trying to understand your lack of immeadiate communication, (something I’ve always struggled with,) and she directed me to consider young David- or as we called you- little David. This brought two pictures to mind; one I have of my husband at the age of 6 that looks nothing like him, all wide eyed and inccocenly wondering-looking and another I have of you, relaxed, contraposto, reminding me of The Sleeping Hermaphrodite from the 1600’s and trying to imagine you and your little face and eye expression at 6 yrs old…before I go on I want to say that this letter may come off too dramatic or mushy or cold, I don’t know, I’m just putting it all out here in hopes, well there are to many to say…

I was thinking of collecting the best one-liners from the letters in my head and just sending you a collaberation of gutteral thoughts, one after another so you could feel what I was going through on a daily basis but after talking to Katryn my heart said don’t lay that on little David, and I admitted too, to Paul, a deep and protected (yet vocal) soul like you about the afternoon I sent you a crying clip, pushing ‘send’ without thinkig, kicking myself for my foolishless, yet was told that was the most beautiful thing I could do. I here I sit, conflicted, writing a whole page almost already, saying nothing so far and yet having so much to say

I love you, David

I love how you get so mad at little things that are no big deal,
I love that your gf sends you he-man toys that you get super excited about
I love your sleepy eyelashes and that you do laundry in the middle of the week
I love how you stand naked at the kichen counter cutting fruit each morning
I love that you have such a sofisticated and broad taste in music
I love the way you laugh
I love that you cry with out hesitation and can be serious beyound budging
and your eyes, so many things about your eyes, the hunger, the smile, the intensity, the becokoning, the delicate light purple veins when they’re closed…
I love the feel of your hair when I rub my hand over the top of your head
and the hard hairy curve of your calf with soap suds in the shower
I fell for you first sitting in the dark under a tree, talking forever and all of your attention
Later came to find calm, reason, connectivity at the sound of your voice
Lawn chairs in the park, dogs off leashes, cold-coffee benches, were we not courting?
But I should not say that- it was all an innocent friendship to me then and all I wish for now…
“When I met you, I just knew we would be [connected/lifelong] friends.” – your words not mine and repeated more then once…

Has the world gotten in the way, was it just the natural course of life, or perhaps two gold rings, or the distance to st. louis, are you mad at me or just being realisticly logical (you know thats not how souls work, right?) someone suggested a break from life but I can’t imagine you’ve ghosted everyone you know.. I dare not ask, is it just me?

When we said our goodbyes to our physical relationship on Valentine’s Day, was I to understand that we were saying goodbye to it all? I mean I thought we talked about certain boundaries and different actions moving forward things we could and couldn’t do, as if there was ‘future’ in our prospects. Was I nieve? Was this the reason you grieved so deeply in my arms that afternoon, did you already know but just, just wanted it to be easier on me or something…. i don’t know. I’d like to believe that you were only drawing a line in the sand when it came to sex and that maybe you too imagined us connecting the way we did when you were a mere 180 days fresh and beyond. Please say I’m not a fool and you’re merely taking a hiatus from life for a moment. You know I can totally be that chill guys gal pal to you and the world, (yet connected in a way you never have to question) I keep reiterating this not to scare you off or turn you away but just the opposite… I’m a safe haven, a homecoming, a keeper of words between walls and yet can be totally nonchalant outside of four corners and in saying that I want to say this, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for opening my mouth and inving you to cross a line without thinking how’d we’d get back across without a mess. That is not to say I regret any moment I have ever spent with you… I just want to say maybe I knew it was easy way in to connect with you quickly and deeply and regain that attention and late night talks and even go a level beyond, all things I assumed you’d be into but was rather selfish on my part, and while I was never thinking about these things consciencously, (in fact i thought I had other motives) in retrospect, I know I was longing for your closeness and your time again during that time, and so for my selfish desires, and the invitation to cross the line- I do apologise.

By the way, this letter is noting like the letters I’ve wrote to you in my head, not dramatic, not angry, just rambling, foolish perhaps, desperate sounding, i don’t know. I just know that my heart is big, you are in it, and right now- that hurts.

Motel 6 #1971

Daviodd John

I had the most insteresting dream early this morning, winter is coming so, although it is 7a, it looks to be 5a outside my apartment this morning, making it prime ambiance for me to sit and write a bit. Anyways, the dream- it was a college award ceremony, downtown Iowa City. We had the storefront shop in the Old Capital Mall. You could enter from street side or mall side. Street side walls were all glass plated windows and inteior was booths and tables and a bar, all black intirior, dark and different levels and going variorous directions. The back of the resturant lead to the foyer for a ballroom where the ceremony was taking place. My family was arriving, it was like the big event following graduation so I wasn’t sure who would all be there. I saw Todd. I was totally nervous but super excited for him to witness all the accomplishments I had achived by this point in life. He looked so collected and cool. A bit formally dressed but not altogether black tie or anything- distinguised none the less. I remember thinking how long its been since I’d seen him and how to approach him afterwards to thank him for coming, but I was late getting my seat, trying to scope everyone coming in the door, and the headmaster was alreading reading accomplishment awards and the winners names. John (JB) and I weren’t on the best terms so I wasn’t sure if he would be there, then I saw him in the foyer, relief! He and Todd approched each other to talk but I wasn’t worried because he was talking to David. Make no mistake, there wasn’t 3 men in my dream, only 2… Sometimes he looked like David, sometimes Todd… I went back thru the resturant now, taking a highback chair with me, I think I was helping with decor or something, I saw Ralph in the foyer as I was passing throug. The resturant was a bit busy now, 70% capacity maybe… I could hear them calling my name off for recognation. I got more than one award. Going back through the resturant now, dragging the chair on two legs, a wild flurry of snow outside the windows, resturant busier than ever, no guys to be seen in the foyer, I looked around frantically and then to the ballroom doorman, a fellow student. He started giving me head nods and hand gestures , like street directions with no words, I was trying to visulize this instruction- clueless, I just guessed, “The Que Bar?” I said. He nodded. I immeadiately became worried- Todd had taken John to a bar and he only had 30 days, I’d grab my purse, get him, and return before the ceremony was over, Maybe I should go tell mom… dammit! I didn’t have my purse, have to tell mom now anyways, oh wait! there it was! Am I dressed warm enough to make it to the Que and back? Do I even remember exactly where it is? Shit! I only have one shoe on! WTF, getting frustrated and frantic now, orginizers are starting to arrange prize tables for grads by name for when we walk out the door, I’m running out of time! I hear my name a second and third time being called… What is he saying about me at that bar? Is David believing him because all I’ve put him thru lately, will JB come back drunk? Will Todd and David be on this too cool for Gez crew when they return? my mind is overloading…. I wake up

kissing

kisses seem to fade I guess… I was just trying to remember kisses from my first two husbands and I couldn’t although I could remember two destinct times for both of them when we had sex though, I guess sex leaves more if an inprint on your insides that you then carry with you… it’s kida unfair really, nothing ever goes inside a man, no way a woman can penitrate him except by her tounge and yet that space is so often and nessicerily replaced with other objects… but I do remember kisses from now. I remember how we flirted and caressed last night all the was home and you walking me to the door. I wore my Mexico heels last night and was delighted to discover I could look you straight in the eyes. You grabbed the back of my head and pulled me in for a deep passinate and probeing kiss and I returned it just as hungrily. Finally, I pushed you away, breathing in and braething out an “I have to go,” as I spun around to head to the door and almost lost my balance… I can recall all of JB’s kisses too, the first couple time we kissed and he didn’t say anything, to the time when we were in his kitchen and he said just go slow, close your, eyes, relax a lttle, and taught me how to kiss him and I got goose bumps running all up and down my body… more later, it’s 5 a.m. and I must try for a little more sleep if I am to be productive at all today… bosabosa

edit: one kisses like Lifetime the other HBOMax

Dear David

what ever happened to our conversation re: the nature of our newfound relationship, Mr. “This is gonna change the WHOOOLE dynamic of our relationship”? not that I want to have hard-for-me conversations like boundaries and expections and define and label things and all that and what not but I guess this letter may, in fact, address a few of those things. Also, in fact, I thought you might sit me down on the couch and kinda demand, if you will, one or both of these topics, cuz, well, you’re the man and YOU did bring them up after all. Oh and, I may jump around a bit – lots of things flying thruogh my head this morning….

ok so, i DID want the dynamic to change, because it had already changed from a place of casual dates and rescuing ea. other in times of need, talking to ea. other re: sticky relationship stuff to saving ea. others gas tanks and freaking out newcomers together, to an occasional miss dial or a mentioned “miss you” at the start of a meeting. That wasn’t enough for me. And then when I saw Leslie getting all the conversation, smiles and laughs as you too stood a little off from the crowd looking in like we used to do, I immeadiately felt replaced, and that car ride home…. you tucked into her boosum, two jello molds on the same holdiday plate, lime and orange becoming one citrus delite every time a corner was turned, it was like all my hidden desires i’d never let show, least of all anyone in the program might see, right there out in the open for all of us, vocalized and commentated. i.just.died. So I had to do something about it… I wanted to see where my on again off again carnal thoughts really were.Like did I just have them because I felt such a close emotional bond to you, or was it merely the excitement of a new man’s intrest in me? Maybe it was the blonde hair, teeth and neckline that reminded me of the man I had the most epic love story of my life with. (ending with a preposition, I know) or maybe it was because I had some personal insite to your sexual lifestyle that made fantisize about what you can do with that thang or maybe it was my relationship and we did or didn’t have in the bedroom. But its not like I ever processed any of these things before, they were just building up inside the back of my brain until I got out of Craigs car and had to call Wanda crying, telling her I didn’t kn0w why I was so upset. “It hurts, gez… he hurt you… you gotta tell him that…” the conersation went on…

So the first time was exciting, exhillarating even, and it was gentile, intense, hot, a little scary, respectful, reconnecting, truth-telling, intimate, quiet, lust-filled, passionate, so many things in so few hours and I learned a lot about your body that night and I think you even a little about my past, but I think that’s where it should have stayed. I mean, The First Time I could justify it, say there was a purpose for me, a discovery I had to make, so to speak, leading an ol stag back to one of his regular watering holes to see if he was still interested, and you were, or so I initially thought. Later, I thought about your harem (for lack of a better word, sorry I don’t lnow poly terminology) and figured, well, this is easy for him. It’s a part of his nature, lifestyle, etc. I’m not really all that wonderful just remember how he metioned how easily he gets aroused and how many times he called you “baby” in the bedroom, (so generic btw) and the killer comment no true lover ( notice I use the base word love and not fwb or something like that) want to hear… ” I wanna FUCK you so bad…” just kinda rattled around in my brain and never really settled

Before I get to The Second Time, I wanna get back to changing the dynamic. I wanted to find some stuff out for me. I talked to JB re: if he ever thinks he’ll be sent away somewhere like his father was, he said, “In and out of phsyc wards, yea,” “like locked up there?” I replied. “no, just in and out my whole life.” “But what about your father, he was in his forties when they decided to keep him?” “Babe, I’m tryin to watch the game, now com’on!” and that was that. I’m always looking for a backup plan. Once i learned (in my first marraige, and after my grandparent had passed) I couldn’t rely on my husband to come home every night I always had my kids with me, so when I left I took them with me and when an officer took them back few months later, I was lost, so no matter where I went (or ended up) I aways had a back-up plan in the back of my mind or in my back pocket, so whatever happened, I wouldn’t be stranded again, or so I convivnced myself in the moment and so with you too, I wanted to keep you present in my life. Totally unfair contingency plan for you, I guess. Although I did feel oddly reassured after JB’s and my’s abrubt conversation Satuday afternoon. Still though, I wanted to draw you back into me. Back into those moments where, after a meeting I felt like I didn’t get enough 1 on 1 time with you, I could just start talking. ABout nothing. ABout everything. Never looking at you. You looking so intently at me. And I knew I could keep on talking, untill my ciggarettes ran out, anyway. And now I think about coffee and ladies walking into resturants and nice asses and racks and long necklines and long legs and checking them out with you, making comments I get shushed at by you cuz they were too close or I was too inapropriate… you asking hard questions and me starting to explain and you jus cutting in with “why, buy why do you think you can just…” and me starting to explain over and over agin, you just cutting me off over and over again till I just get mad and have to process my own beliefs later, (why does he challege me so, i wonder, how could I’ve challenged him, etc and spark my brain) and then I think about chicken wings and then I think about how I was kinda like an accountability partner for you, directing you home one night vs. a lady’s house and sobbing in a church pew not knowing if i should reach out for you or just let you have your moment with god, and the the movies with another couple (sigh) just everything rushing to my brain rt now. Mental and Spiritual connection, thats what we had, thats why I wanted to grab you and bring you back into my world…

Ok well the sun is about up and my brain will change so I want to talk about last night and where do we go from here. First of all, no more bedrrom rendezvoux, unless we keep our pants on and are truly laying down to hold each other for a nice comfy nap (that would be so comforting to me as my man doesn’t really actually sleep w me much lately) but it might be too tempting or teasing or difficult for you in anyway it doesn;t have to happen either. Last night about 20 min after we gave up on our movie JB called (7:30) and I had to make up a story about why I couldn’t answer the phone. I don’t ever wanna have to do that again. Also that word FUCK came up again and this time I was really into it being me that was doing you, but immediately afterwards i felt like I just used you for you body and I don’t want you to become a mindless tool like that to me ever again. Another thing 3 times since we’ve been intimate I’ve had a drug reference or image come to mind, not quite sure how we’re triggering it, but I’ve got to be careful. It could just be intense sex in general, (or Todd again) but who knows… so the new things I do like, discovering each others music, open the door to text flirting, getting to kiss you, noticing things like smile eyes, you speaking a little more deep/intimate/soft-ly with me, anticipating house visits, a shift in hugs, idk … nuances

ok by4now

The Casey Story pt 3

The night Casey died, I saw him colaspe to the floor. He was right outside or right inside our bedroom door. My memory seems to recollect him collasping right outside the door but also me checking for his pulse bed side floorboard, but maybe that isn’t true. At any rate, I was exausted, we spent the evening at Wal-Mart getting the fixin’s for Halloween goodie bags and spendt the evening assembling them and drinking wine. Of course Casey had a few poppers to go with his alcohol (as per usual). Sometime during the evening Casey proved to me he still had my $5000 wedding ring, by retriving from his truck, showing it off in its original box, and returning safely back to the locked glovebox from whence it came. He had decided to seperate from me upon being released from jail as he was deprived of meds and drugs and highly parinoid about my possible loyalties, behaviors and addiction. I don’t know why I never retrieved that ring before I called the police, I guess these are the “smart things” you think about when you are in your right mind, but I was far from that. Anyways, I told him I was going to bed and started down the hall, began climbing into our oversized king and could hear oversized, anibriated steps coming my way. I was kinda happy actually, to think that we were go to go to bed together. I turned to watch him enter. He tried to make a sound and grabbed his shirt with one hand. his knees buckled and his other hand reached out. He looked up at me, mouth open, then whole body face down on the floor. Less than a 2 second action. I don’t remember any noise from when he fell. I just stood for a moment and stared, frozen. i kneeled down next to his shoulder, his head was turned to one side. I had seen him passed out like this befoew. Then I started getting scenes from cop shows in my head; check for pulse, listen for breathing, call 911, start compressions…. etc. I checked his neck for a pulse. My heart was thudding, all I could feel was my own heart beat. I tried to put my cheek close to his nose to check for breathing but i thought his lips looked a bit blue, although the rest of him had very good color. Not trusting my visual analisys, I didn’t call for help I took a snapshot and sent his brother the pic. “I think Casey just passed out, but does his lips look blue to you?” I sat beside him on my knees on the floor and just looked at his profile, waiting for Cody to text me back. 5-10 minutes, no response. I stood up. I was calm, numb maybe, not alarmed or worried at all, figured I’d let him be. I kinda think I had an underlying thought of “let him go” or “he needs to go” as in he finally deserves his rest. Not as in i want him to be gone. It like i was unclenching my grip and deciding to give him to the world, understanding I couldn’t help him or be his partner any more, I had to let the relationship be on his terms with no preesure from me, let him be and just go to bed, which is exactly what I did, leaving him right there on the floor for the next 10 hours… I don’t really think I had processed he was dead, that didn’t really sink in with me till the next morning.
I woke, no idea what time it was. He was still laying there, belly down, face to the side, one arm up, one arm under him.I bent over to touch his arm. He was cold. His face had definately loss color. I went to the living room to retrieve my phone and call 911, “I think my husband’s dead,” I told them flatly. I explained I just woke and found him on the floor, cold arm, plale face, gave my address and hung up. I went outside to wait for the ambulance. Sat on the stoop and lit a ciggarette, still numb, in disbeleif, not feeling, not processing, just sitting. The cops arrived first, entered the house, returned to me and asked if there was a relative that could identify the body, the body…. I said I am his wife, “we need a blood relative ma’am,” as the ambulance pulled up. The parametics rushed in, began asking me questions about the night before. I told him we were drinking wine and I went to bed early, figured he passed out when he never came to bed. “Did he take anything else?” “Well he was just in a moped accident and has some meds for his leg,let me go look,” I went to the kitchen cupboards. I found three pill bottles, two empty, didn’t pause to read the lables, just handed them over to the parametics. The cop that had asked about a relative was waiting in the living room gave me a look, “ma’am?” he said. “oh, yea, um, I guess I can call his brother.” I dialed Kyle’s phone number, I was shaking. He answered almost immeadetly. I just blurted out what the cops had said to me, no nice pleasentries, no easy let downs, just a scared and confused blurt. “I’m at Casey’s house and the cops are here.They said a blood relative has to identify him,” my voice was shaking, he freaked out immeadtely, I think he asked me what the hell I was talking about and I just repeated my self. He regainedhis composure qiuckly. “i’m coming, I’m coming, Gez. Just stay put.” I let the officer know and Kyle’s voice on the other side of that phone call is the last thing I remember from that day.

dream blog 11.14.21

3D marble maze w/ popcisie sticks and foumd wood, large clear glass marbles. Denbai from the Blacklist, Samer and I’s graduation the next day. In a jungle swamp. An Answering Machine set up for our livlihood. Big amounts of little kids earrings and mini hair clips and little rubber purses stuffed w goodies. They’re all in a small portable container on those stick racks you see in the stores, so crammed full that I was trying to rearrange it. Some of the items I was pulling out for me but mostly saving the majority for Ren. My stuff was kept in a cardboard flat, which also had some torn out pages of different small journols and craft scraps I was also saving. I was fitting everying into the flat like a puzzle. Someone was helping me arrange the flat. I also got a sense I was talking to Aunt Maha and Uncle Aladdin at different pionts during this dream. The marble maze went down the side of the porch, near some water damage, around our answering machine setup and my Walkman. It lands in a shallow pool at the bottom of our stairs. At some point I let several marbles go and lose. The ansering machine, Denbai’s wallett and one of my journols get knocked into the water. I fish them out quickly, but not before Denbai has seen what I have done and, laying his hands besides his head, begins to wallow about not getting jobs or having money anymore. I am quitely trying to undo what I have done when I discover I can make a marble travel backwards and up through my maze to the beginning. I try to distract everyone with this seemingly miraculous event, and while I don’t see her, I know my mother has come out of the house to console me, as I can hear her words of quiet praise and feel her presense by my side. I wake up,

6:42a DST Sunday

dream blog 11.13.21

boats, my grandparents, wheelchairs. claire was my sister. 4 quarters falling out of tin cans wrappers with coiled, meatle shavings all around them, they made the individual boats/chairs run. I was trying to catch up with my gpa but could only see my gma, back of her head or profile view only, we were on the water now, in indiviual boats, puttering around each other like slow bumper cars, all very crowded. church service at some point, indoors now, rows and rows of elderly coulpes, each lifed behind the next, like benchers seating. we where there for the whole week, all the older people dressed like the 80’s, chiifon and shine, lots of blouses and long skits, lots of blue and lt. grey. big chucky stone jewelery. Food court area, I got mad at claire and was trying to explian my frustrations to gpa and she overheard. he was very close and compassonate, leaning in to listen and knodding to understand what I was going through. When I noticed she overheard I snapped at her, “quit being so snarky to me, i didn’t do anything and it hurts my feelings!” then i turned to gpa and said “there, now you dont have to say anything,” but not too angrily… I felt bad for imposing on him to make my situation better. After my utterance, I woke, Saturday morning 3:45 a.m. DST

dream blog 7.27.20

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Δ

Working back from goodbye

These last 3 months
I just finished making lunch about an hour ago, I always think of him when i cook, he was my cook after all — alas, everything i make is brown, but the flavor is better, i used to make a very pretty plate but bland, so bland
speaking of brown, so are assholes, the very deep dark center of them, naked with tongues inserting cavities of men you wished we’re your husband, on a scratchy polyester floors, drunken in the middle of the night, pleasing yet disgust like a plate of delicious, brown, mushiness.
Tho i guess in retrospect Casey couldn’t cook at all in the end, every thing he made then was brownish and stinking your mouth up with bitter cloven hooves of a beast of a meal. I must smoke,…

Our first three
I’m still avoiding things, like feelings, emotions, gut instincts, and everything that would qualify me as female, or a girl anyways. I cannot be a girl now, shit! I’m almost 30 yrs old- never wanted to be one anyways, i used to wish i was a boy when i was young. but he made me his lady and i bought him a house. He loved me like a forbidden pomegranate running red off his chin, sticky and staining his heart, so I took him to Mexico to live forever, we only lasted a month as we couldn’t find a house. He was the most metro-alpha man not worthy of me to speak to, the preppy boy i dreamed about in high school, and he stopped to talk to me, to wash dishes together atfer hours and laugh and bitch together, so i slipped him the first annonymis love note scribbled in lip liner and snuck into a greasy BNQ shirt breast poket. It read: the scent of this shirt makes me wanna Fuck!

dream blog 2021 11.8

ok so i was with Jaeton who was about the twins’ age and we were at this fantastic tourist place. Mom and Micheal were there and we just got off this meatle, open-air, shuttle bus and were going to sand dunes/beach area. Jaeton took off before them and I decided to go just behind him to let him pick out a good spot. I could see sand a little ways down the trail with a well beaten path. It looked like it lead to a valley where surely the water would be. Between the end of trail and valley of sand was a wooden stucture, not enclosed, more like just the frame of a building, with redwood 2×6’s. I “zoomed-in” to see what was beyond this building and the water past the valley. ( Usually when I do this in a dream I begin flying reallhy fast, not seeing my body but getting a birds eye view of everything below and besides me, the more I look at the ground below, the higher I go, and usually feeling like I’m too high up at some point, i have to practice a meditation techniche to calm myself and relax enough to return to the ground) So I’m flying but I never get too high up because the wooden stucture has an overhead and goes on indefinately. All around me I see the sand dunes. Massives piles of wet sand formed into all shapes and formations, it is breathtaking like the grand canyon, even different layers of sand have different hues of color running through them, I remember being reminded of limestone. After a few awestruck moments and maybe 10 miles of travel, I realize there is no water here so I retrace my steps back to the trail and decide to travel the path the other direction. I run into my parents and mom, seeing me without Jaeton, reminds me- “keep him close, you don’t want to loose him in this big place” and “I know you think he’s a big kid, but he’s still not grown up yet,” and so on and so forth.
So, flying again i travel the other way and find a big metropolitan mega centre. It has under ground cement and brick thoroughfaires and food courts of a stadium that ramp up to high bricked walls looking over Dodger Stadium, everyone gets a sticker nametag to wear to gain access past the ticket checker at every seat gate entrance. I find Jaeton during this time, he seems a bit younger, 8 maybe, he has frekles on his face, on his chheks and across the bridge of his nose, he is sun-kissed tan (could my dreams make him any cuter!?!) We don’t have stickers but there is this triangle of concrete at the end of every section where chais cannot fit, and fans can stand before the start of any game and take pictures of Dodger feild. Half- reluclantly Jaeton joins me and I am just looking and looking and seats are starting to fill. Well I guess a lot of fans take off their nametags and stick them to the bottom of thier seats. So. as I notice a group down the isle file in to sit, I look at the seats they reach for and there, lo and behold, is a sticker with my late and great favorite cousins’ name on it- SAMER. I rush back out to the concouse to text my aunties and cousins what I had found. I am using my dayhab director’s phone now, doing speach-to-text, in a group MMS to leave a message, Kaya is holding the phone. As I am speaking she says, “they are logging off… goodbye…..goodbye………..goodbye…goodbye.” There is a small ding before she reads each goodbye. (which doesn’t make any sence in the coinscience world, as I am composing a text and NOT chatting live!) and confusing me in the dream world…
Now Jaeton and I are past the brick walls of the stadium exploring some of the city, I want to show him all of this cool stuff I glimpsed when I was flying around Dodger Stadium. He is excited too and I’m running behind him trying too keep up. Eventually, I can’t keep up with him anymore and my calling out to him lands on deaf ears. He finally boards a bus or sits at an open-air cafe or something next to my friend Wanda (he has no idea) and I motion to her to keep him there. She engages him in conversation I cannot hear. A few minutes later I catch up with him, my anxiety and worry subsiding, my breath and heartrate returning. Wanda and I talk to him gently, yet seriously about the importance for children to reply when thier mother call to them, but everytime we ask him if this is what he’ll do next time he says NO. So we explain dangers and love and safety again and again and again he replys no. Wanda’s mom even turns around from a seat next to us and chimes in a bit more briskly than how we’ve been talking to him. After 4 tries and 4 no’s (and remebering my mom’s words this whole time) I just give up and that’s when I wake up, 5:45 a.m. Monday

note: sand interpretation- great loss and times of famine

dream blog 2020

72720

i had a dream with my grandpa in it this morning. I was a teenager and I was cleaning out the fridge in the house on Fairview Lane, and working on something with my phone. The Tupperware I used were the same I have today. at one point i had to crawl on the shelf to reach the end of the row of containers as they went all the way to the back wall, there were cookies, eggs, and about 6 more containers. I delayed making the call, putting grandma and grandpa on hold, as I feinged calling- just enough time to finish organizing my side of the fridge. i crawled out, pushing to door open from the inside and then went to the living room where grandpa was. He was preparing to leave. i wanted to go with but he shook his head. I pleaded with him to know where he was going but he said nothing just smiled, i decided to ask then. “Are you going to get ice cream?” I smiled in a sing-song voice. Finally he spoke- “Nooo”, he half laughed. “Where then?” i pleaded again. He replied earnestly… “well, i wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings-” end scene

who “Tne Mental Health People” are

so far in my life I think I have written 2 poems kinda relating to my mind splitting or thinking I got it figured out about what happens when I flip poles and the strangers that seeing inadvertantly kept me on my course…

Recently Ive come to the conclusion that this possibly-perceived “paranoia” about “the Mental Health People” actually isn’t what I’d call them now. I’m beginning to feel less like there are certain people watching me and more like signs from my HPGod. I see cohesion and connectivity among the living beings and things of this planet as some kind of “Divinely Purposed” network. AND i am learning not to fear and hide away from these personal times of heightened awareness (times when I’m on the manic pole) but rather to slow down, sit down, or just take a moment to pause and really observe what I am actually seeing and hearing BEFORE i decide to quickly disregard or if I want to linger/listen to this “Paul Harvey Moment.”

This new approach of mindfulness packed with patience has been a bit nerve-racking, a little scary, but also leaves me feeling like I did something brave for myself and my acclimation to feeling safe in the world on my own. Not to mention, as I often find in these moments of pausing, the person or thing is giving me a piece of their personal history… world of storytellers… story telling saves lives… not just being a story giver but also now able to be a story receiver… which is good for me… kinda-

Coming out of childhood I had a strong sense of safety and good intention from 30s something men (several which I consorted with during my moms dating years) AND  older grey haired couples (influence from living and spending so much time with my grandparents and their friends- intensely through to the age of 17) Therefore, when I first started finding myself either pushed or dumped into the “cold, unforgiving world” I would gravitate towards men in their 30s or older married couples as a resource to provide my basic needs AND THIS practice lead to being led astray a way too many times….

Still cautious, still careful, still turning my back on disregardable messages…. but NOT running, hiding, obsessing over”signs” that keep me woke to all hours of the night… jst pause, stop, still, listen (TRUST/FAITH HPGod)

Retro Love Fuck

The first thing I ever wrote in 2008 is still my favorite in 2017

“I’m still avoiding things, like feelings, emotions, gut instincts, and everything that would qualify me as female, or a girl anyways. I cannot be a girl now, shit! I’m almost 30 yrs old- never wanted to be one anyways, i used to wish i was a boy when i was young. but he made me his lady and i bought him a house. He loved me like a forbidden pomegranate running red off his chin, sticky and staining his heart, so I took him to Mexico to live forever, we only lasted a month as we couldn’t find a house. He was the most not worthy of me to speak to preppy boy i dreamed about in high school, and he stopped to talk to me, to wash dishes together after hours and laugh and bitch together, so i slipped him the first anonymous love note scribbled in lip liner and snuck into a greasy shirt breast poket left lying around the kitchen. It read: the scent of this shirt makes me wanna Fuck!”

Changes

Nothing changes
If everything remains the same,
Which my brain must always be assuming
It’s goning to happen,
I realized
On the bus today

Dark

Negros grow strong in the dark
Their eyes shining
Their teeth gleaming
Not being shut until
Our justice is brought to light

Time Will Tell

You’ve never led me on
but you’ll never let me go
and my brain’s always running our moments
(without me asking for them)
so
I wonder if our paths will ever come to cross again
or if you’ll remain forever, just a dreamers friend?

Speaking Up 020617

First I am a daughter

And then I am someone’s sister

And then I am someone with psychosis

And then I am someone’s teacher

And then I am a homeless drug addict

And then I write poems

I write poems for me

Hurting, I write poems so I don’t inflict pain on me

Healing, I write poems so I don’t inflict pain on others

Hoping, I write poems so I can grow strong again

Hesitantly, I write poems so I can speak strength to others

And then I get sick again

So now I’m writing a poem for you

Which I’ve really never done before

But a mind like mine makes no sense-

It can truly drive myself into internal madness

This is how it is…

I am disgusted by the one-upping, while desperately seeking likeability via conformity, too busy being important for deep human connection, the white collar world pursues

(Thus my aversion of ingesting government regulated chemicals whose aim is to keep my mind at an acceptable status-quo level of possessing)

And I am disgusted by the nonchalant parenting, beer belly growing, dirty nail showing, inappropriate volumed talking, good, ol’ boy living of the blue collar types also

(Thus my leave of absence from my marriage with my children- both under 5 years old- to Mexico, which lead to disallowment of further parental rights)

I am inspired by those that the world turns their nose up to, as they continue to pursue their own path no matter what. So long as they do it peacefully. But not those who do so to the point to create disruption in the world, because after all, isn’t there enough of that?

Yet in the same turn, I am sooo turned off by those who lack the gumption to speak up for themselves. After all, how will anything change if one doesn’t take a step in a different direction?

(That’s how I end up in the ER so much,
I have a big mouth, but I won’t raise a fist to anyone)

But I can always write poems

On the days the radio broadcasts instructions in my ear
I sit in my bed a listen to the static words and feel no fear
I don’t drive my car all night trying to solve where they say I should go
I’m better now; I can do other things like listen to the hum of my machine when I sew

Sometimes if I’m too down I won’t go outside day after day
Then I start to get paranoid and feel it’s too dangerous for me to stray
People will notice because I won’t emerge to smoke or even to eat
And I’ll have to go to the hospital wrapped in my safe blanket to even get me out in the street

It’s funny though the way my mind can react to the sun
All I want is just one day to be done with medicine
And yet have a home I can always return to, no matter what
And my mind will finally be free, so I can exist as the true me

But there always remains one little glitch in there, it’s true
That whispering… …”Why am I not like you?”

“with Psychosis” 012517

Do you know who the Mental Health People are?
The ones watching us who go astray?
They can only be detected by our enlightened mind-
On those days when the radio broadcasts instructions
And I know better than to be seen by The Public.
So I travel after dark, free in the moonlight.
Do YOU know who the Mental Health People are?

Phone Call

I get so mad over little things I have no control over but seem blatantly simple for the other person to do whatever it is I’m expecting. In your case it has always been expecting a return phone call… especially since I made a final decision about following through with my most recent commitment. Despite the conflict of feeling scared of the unknown, I must move away from selfish preferences and recent companions. For at least once in my life I so wanted not to disappear but to face you- explaining reasons, conveying remorse, lessening hurt, seeking understanding, considering another -for my need to disassociate in order to grow. (My immediate automatic fascination for learning and experiencing you and your uncommon existence has encompassed and overwhelmed me.)

Since I was a child I excised without consideration of my surroundings. I lived in exploration of tiny life details that kept my mind and body busy following the fascination at hand. Grandma and grandpa Duncan saw my intense knowledge seeking and would lead me to places, subjects, and media that most wouldn’t appreciate or take time to consider. I loved my life then. I reciprocated with newfound discoveries when I wasn’t lost in exploration.
As I grew older though, my difference in nature was pointed out by colleges as a trait undesirable. With no self publicizing whatsoever, I was still noticed and subsequently avoided. Any interaction that did occur with my peers was them mocking these differences. Well almost all, Lisa, Karen, and Sarah (especially Sarah…)were the few bold enough to befriend the new student and decided I could remain within their worlds as well. Because of these few women disapproval from others faded into the backgrounds of my awareness. (n one the less, the now quieted negative input still had the great effect on my personal acceptance like mantras repeatedly whispered into a dormant ear.)…
I went back into my early self suppressing as many external tells as I could. This internal time was not spent of discovering my present world. Now I took time to create lands and places and stories and false endings to probable experiences. Now I had the explorers joy again of new possibilities- now with the ability to conjure and direct them as I pleased. It was true and complete disassociation from the negative presence and her beings.
I have continued pursuit of all possibly anticipated negative interactions. I think I seek people who have also unpublished some traits, (indicating our likeness) I find these few live in a world self-directed and adventure-sought as I do. These men have become my new distraction of seeking knowledge. I observe then approach in a manner I have concluded will be of pleasing interest to him. Once slipped inside this newfound place, longing for a tangible human connection, is pleasantly fulfilled. Once again,I make sure none of my individualities emerge and cause possible disruption to the bliss of being seen and yet accepted/desired, causing me to dream of the forever joy I could ensure never fades. Again I analyze, observe, and act in a manner to keep up congruity and keep down disruptions.
The problem with other world creations is THEY posses the ability to conjure and direct them as they please. This creates conflict my calculated path to forever joy. I am now one of the two here (despite my sneaking access into your land) justify and assume my equal directors voice. Eventually this conflict -busy efforts to retain self and others’ desires simultaneously- causes such deep mindful dismay and physical exhaustion I turn to my self with the bottom line- You cannot direct another world and you cannot exist disassociated from self. (Flee quickly and quietly back to Homebase for recovery…. there I recollect the initial lesson-
COMBINE individual seeking and shared discoveries to create the greatest joy.

I have recently accepted the following:
I exist neutrally without pursuit of or adventures in other lands.
Existing out loud with acceptance is possible. (circa Duncans)
Tangible Existence(REALITY):
considering and including BOTH internal and external influence and experiences.
Directions to Homebase aren’t predetermined but your path is being watched over.
Forced effort recoils yet necessary effort builds
Tangible Existence is already conjured yet the ability to self-direct remains.

working conclusion: ongoing discovery will be required for ongoing existence.

Still learning to accept that “perseverance ensues” despite facts that:
Data is infinite (and therefore)
initial conclusions are not concrete (resulting in)

no teachers edition available for discovery
.

Cowboy 081916

I met a man once

who’s been rollin’ smokes since the age of nine.

Growin’ his hair out

for some charity, rusted brown, wavy, fine.

 

He worked

in the bowels of the oldest theatre in town.

All absurd requests

queries for aide, he could never turn down.

 

Seldom spoken

but built-up real loud, tall, and sculpted lean.

Boy scout soul

could narrow eyes dimming a face most fiercest mean.

 

And any mention

of heart, soul, lasting lover, he grows busy – divert.

Backdoor patrons

once called upon Cowboy but I, I knew him as Calvert.

Neverland Now 071216

People will do things with animals

               domesticate the wild, for safe captivity

               train, toil and slave, for assured loyalty

then say

               Hey, come look what I got, no stop first- pay me.

               OK, thank you, now you can see

               all these wonderful things in my make-believe reality

Peter Pan’s of the world- here are the lost boys of our animal kingdom  (and we are all the Wendy’s)

The Wendy’s do not tell the animals bedtime stories though

because they are too busy bragging to the neighbors

about the amount of pixie dust on their oversized strollers

There are signed rules for the paths of this Neverland,

               and Captain Hook is too distracted by the click-clocking

               of the train that follows him around and around

               screaming children, biting bugs, searing ground

There is no time to find Peter

               and his ship disappeared years before

               bulldozers found this island of trees

               putting a fence around it- must pay to see

 

Peter Pan- here are all the lost kin of our animal kingdom (but where are all the Wendy’s)

Peter only comes to visit the aviary when Tink is tired needing to rest

and fluff her crested-red ‘do, then they’re off again and I too,

since they built a road for all to come to Neverland and renamed it The Zoo

Inquiry 071216

I went to the zoo today

to sit in the plains

with the ‘roos today

and found myself lighting away

from that serenity

to the aviary

lightly, flightly

to that space beneath the shade tree…

I digress

I meant to ask you a quest-

tion

frien’…

to be so high, so free

flipped up-side-down

so low, no sound

yet never drown?!

What be thee?

RAD-JAH!

 

(but people only picture the parrot)

Hello 062516

beautiful, exquisite, long lines drawn

limbs trailing off from a neck’s

de’clagle so delicate the bones of the collar look as if to

light to wings

wide spread

dark feathers

but instead

just arms tanned and tawny from the prematurely-hot July son

the darkness

of feathers flutter

just above a

rosy’d cheekbone

arching and dipping and outlining two bight, shiny colored worlds

ever blinking

ever thinking

ever watchful

ever and ever

deeper and deeper below a golden crown

silky strings flipped over and falling down

sides of ear tops, small, curved, pinky orange apricot slices

I imagine

nuzzle-able

fuzz tickles

pecking kisses

alas, I exhale again, meeting her gaze directly, intently, soft and smile

Sam…

-hello.

You Got Me? 061616

She’s got me.
-like no one else has ever got me?

Yea babe, this love is true because when he says he got me,
-He don’t do temporary.
or whenever You choose

Like you chose and closed the doors right behind my back
-and right in front of my face too!
You-

Cannot face reality? Face this
You were only temporary
-You got me?!

p.s. when you’re done taking from The Giving Tree, you can come sit on this stump beside me.