blog-nost

i want more blog friends. or, that is to say, i want my friends to blog. you know what i mean. write it down. let's do it. i'll be there. lean on me.

onto the next page of the DSM MXMCIIV...

blogging standing up.

THANK YOU.



i would have this
condition

for the rest
of my
natural life


if only
the grace
would

don't go.




the english language collapses into its own inversions

un-glued only seems like un-glued until
you sniff that glue

(no, really)

unglued is perfect
because we were meant to be broken
and together at last.


we were meant to be broken
and stay broken
so don't go through the trouble
of trying to solder me
like a luminious sky-eyed shut-in!


can we stay together?
all adhesives aside, i know
so good.

I Can't

wait
complain
lose
keep being in love with the past
fall hard
stay ignorant
control everything
save them
replace my missing organs
play guitar
stop scratching my arms
release
wait
afford not to dance or use my body
eat like i used to
stop wanting to be more than i am
ignore love
lose faith in love
hate myself anymore
understand elitism
see myself the way others see me
un-learn
stop finding wisdom
deny the truth
not love the night sky
be a punching bag any longer
understand why i get obsessed
let obsession weaken me
be tall
stop my overactive imagination
fight
remain in stasis
believe what amazing people i know
pretend i still don't have a shitload of healing to do
melt the numbness, not just yet
hide
drown
deny compassion
hurt myself anymore
go to a nude beach
drink alcohol
be a victim
be everybody's friend
release
ask the right questions
stop wanting to be someone else's "venus" (vs. the other way around...finally)
stand rudeness
eat just one piece of sushi
stop feeling as though i just washed ashore or landed from a different planet
wait to get my feet wet
lie
sleep around
wait to go swimming
forget
remember
thank you enough

The Way It Was

flow backwards
that's all your life's about
and it's not right
oh sometimes
i wish i could pull your eyes out...yeah

i flow backwards
home's where i'm resting at
day and night
oh sometimes
i feel i could knock your brains out
come on...yeah....

hit by a car...come on

drown in a river...yeah

locked in a jar

caught by the winter...yeah

the sand will smother...come on

the sand will smother...yeah...

come on...yeah...

i flow backwards
home's where i'm resting at
day and night

oh sometimes
i wish i could pull your eyes out,
yeah.


--ty Syd Matters

the sun's still up!

today you are the shiny blackbird
greeting me outside of Jamba Juice
as the cops drive by,
with bright yellow eyes.

the perfect thin blonde girl walks by,
"I Heart NY" on a kid's t-shirt
makes me drop my pen.

my bike is propped against a stone pillar
that appears to be helping to hold up
the shopping center.
Flowers, always near
bending and swaying
dizzy past the automobiles

another perfect NorCal day

How can they look so matter-of-fact?

i learned to dance again not even 12 hours ago
(really dance)
I recognize another letter in my
alpha-bet training
The trellis:
the sign of the bridge and the door
above the grave.

Kim Wilde says, "Play the game,"
so i guess i will continue
busying myself amongst the tract housing,
only a river-swim away from the state capitol

I keep seeing people wearing
deep electric blue t-shirts,
a bright blue truck
darker than the sky

Blue-sleeves
how long till sunset?

lost count of the Benz's
and the little kings & queens marching by
I MISS NOTHING
I WILL GO WHEN I AM READY
I WILL BECOME A SILENT
SONIC
DISASTER
EVENT
the only thing that matters
is my pen scumbling along
you belong here.

--heart diamond club spade--

visceral fun, california gold-rush style

have you ever fallen OFF the toilet? well, last night i think i ate too much or drank too much or something...b/c i was sitting on the toilet, doing what one does, and my head began to feel rather unusual and uncomfortable, and i started to see what appeared to be a mandala of concentric squares--yes! a transcendental experience on the frigging toilet! and after i made sure everything was taken care of, i promptly ROLLED onto the floor, pants still around my knees. i kinda laid there and gasped for what seemed like a long time, thinking about the squares and whether or not i was going to throw up, which felt unlikely at that point, and was able to get myself together and stumble to my room.

wow.

...and our summer-land.

there are some days where i miss my father so damn much, and i don't know why. can't explain why. technically i shouldn't think about him at all, if my brain were wired properly.

i don't think about him resentfully, the way i used to. i think about him like a character in a book that keeps popping up, whose ongoing adventures are amazing, heroic, and untouchable. i wrote him a poem once about how we were both "survivors." i think it was shortly after i was diagnosed with crohn's, which has been proven to have a direct corrolation with men exposed to agent orange. that's like the REAL fucker, you know--the real kick in the teeth for the men and women who managed to make it out of there (hell) alive--their offspring reap the fantastic benefits of combat as well. it would be as if someone with a vendetta against you bashed your little brother's face in instead, i guess. maybe that's why he didn't want to see me grow up.

when i get married he won't be there to walk that walk with me, but i've decided, so what? if there's a man out there who understands what has happened to my immediate family, the needless, stupid daily tragedy, then there'll be another way to feel like a million dollars on that day.

i wear his ring every day, and i'm not sure why. someone asked me about it yesterday, someone handsome and worldly.

he and i were both like teenagers here in california. some of my best memories were going to see the very first "Batman" movie with him in orange county...surprising my grandmother with a blue parakeet (that she promptly gave away), going to knott's berry farm and adding significantly to my rock collection...i know that he still loves me, because i still love him and think he's a hero, no matter what happened.

i have no idea what it must be like for girls with doting fathers. "That boy isn't good enough for you, Stephanie. Let me take you out to dinner and buy you an expensive new outfit." well yeah, that's pushing it, but it must be like that, right? Little princess? you fuck with me, you answer to my father? or big brother(s)? i guess that will happen in another life, if i am lucky enough to come back as a human girl again, but with less complicated genetics. me, me, me.

coming to cali was like walking streets paved with gold! especially as a young teenager, when there was nothing that impressed me or made me smile. there was always so much to look at, and get excited about, and it was so NEW and beautiful, even if it was the side of the freeway or something. EVERYTHING was different! the kids asked, "you're from Transylvania? wow!" and the ocean was not the same.

at risk of sounding like a brochure, the food was what used to really get me. my grandmother took me out with her friends to a host of different and bizzarre cuisenes. she took me to the Pageant of the Masters (yes, Dr. Anderson.)...twice! The Pageant was held in Laguna Hills every summer and was essentially a stage where humans would re-enact famous paintings and sculptures, along with amazing scenery. it was so hard to believe they were real people--you couldn't see them breathing or anything. it was pure genius, and i was a lucky girl.

granny also took me to santa catalina island. my dad first pointed it out to me from their hotel, the very first time we went out west with my mom. in the distance, through a bit of fog/smog, you could see something in the ocean that looked very close by, but was a good half-hour boatride (or more, i think). all i remember about it were boats, everywhere. it was so mysterious from the mainland, but being there was like a fisherman's oasis of sorts, with dark little bars and seafood. very quiet.

i used to rollerskate around my grandmother's retirement community, which was interesting b/c i was the only one doing so, and the elderly people who saw me seemed questioning, but ok with it. my grandmother was an avid walker, and (having dressed me in a long-sleeved sun-shirt, straw hat and old-person wrap-around sunglasses) would take me all over the place at an expertly quick pace for someone in her 70's. she took me to South Coast Plaza, the hugest mall in the frigging country, other than the Mall of America, i guess...it was INSANE. she gave me some money and said, "SPEND it!" and i did--i bought myself one of those fancy journals that i barely felt good enough to write in.

she's now 98 years old, and still getting around quite well. she is one of those people that you just know has discovered the secret to happiness.

i wonder if i'll ever see my father here in california. i think he'd been stationed here before he was shipped out to Guam, and then to Okinawa, and then on to Thailand and Vietnam. i cry when i think about how he was all over the world, all by himself. i guess he wasn't though, i'm sure he had friends who lived or died. as a child i had no idea what this "Veet Nom" thing was. no one really explained that not everyone's dad had pictures wearing a white hat and crisp-looking shirt. no one told me that it would all come crashing down on him (and us) when they finally decided to say WELCOME HOME, in 90 or 91. what does that DO to a person who has been staying alive, doing their job and gets totally torn into when he gets home? were people just stupid back then?

anyway, he'll be immortal to me. i think the best part of Not Saying a Word to one another is that nothing can convince me that he doesn't love me, that he never loved me. convoluted, but true. and i know he's happy.

as for me i'm not quite so brave as they hoped i would be--i still need people to love very much, ones i can talk to. maybe then i'll become the Sigourney Weaver that he would've liked me to be. doubtful though. i don't want to be Sigourney Weaver, i want to be me, and be soft and kind.

2 brown doves are sitting on the roof right outside my window. i'm proud to call california home now, and would like to say that i want to see the world too, and i want to be well, and i will not be alone.