the wind it blows (the door closed)

so, my long-term horoscopes from astrodienst are usually really accurate. just read this one, projected to continue from last thursday until september of next year, and not totally sure how to take it:

During this time you are able to achieve a most unusual balance between your material and your spiritual needs, and you see the relationship between them so that you can build your life upon both of them equally. This influence helps you bring your spiritual ideals into focus in the material world so that you can see precisely what role they play in your life. Consequently this is a time of sober reflection and deep understanding about your life on several planes. 

This is a time of serious thought. Your mood will not be especially light-hearted, but you will be in a position to make great breakthroughs in understanding. You will be able to deny yourself rewards that you have wanted in the past, because now you can see that if you wait a bit, your daily life will come closer to your ideals. You are in the right frame of mind for disciplined self-denial and sacrifice without being a martyr. In other words, you are realistic about what you are doing. 

Now you can work to further your ideals, such as working for religious or charitable organizations, spiritual groups or whatever. In general you will be attracted to groups of people who share your views, and you will be able to express your philosophy better in a group than by yourself. This influence has the effect of making your ego subservient to higher needs, so that if you believe strongly in what you are doing, you will be able to work hard even if given very little credit or positive reinforcement. 

With this influence there is the danger of taking your own actions too seriously. This can be a very covert form of egotism in the name of spiritual awareness and devotion, and no form of egotism, even if it goes by another name, is compatible with this influence.

so.... i guess it's time to join a cult?!


listening to: kate bush - king of the mountain

every time i drive to the bay, no matter how many times
every time i hear an accordion
every time i see your name, whether or not it's you.
every time i think of leaving.
every time i start to move. every time

i cant believe i'm making this trip alone. i cant believe that was ten months ago. i cant believe we'll never be that good again. i cant believe you own my memory. i cant believe how selfish you turned out to be.


at the end of the day, it's just sex. it's all there is and thats it. the distance killed what was already dying. you couldnt hold my small blue flame, my soft shell. i couldnt feel you hold me there, i couldnt open more than this.


i thought i'd hear from you, i thought you'd care enough to write.
i was wrong.
now i know better.

in my life, i'm not looking for love. what i crave is connection, fire, brilliance, and madness. anger and hate can have a place. love is nothing without a this. your love means nothing without respect. your love of self will break the rest.

remember how you were always running away in my dreams? the one where your songs are playing on the radio, you sang so sweetly "if you really loved me, you would be here with me." it was all true.


i imagine you floating, nothing but your love. how easy i was to lose and forget.

gonna have my fun

i can't believe i've lived in this cloud for almost a year. i can't believe it's winter where you are. i can't believe i'm about to be completely free for the first time EVER with no plans and nothing. no more job, no school, and no movie to work on. i can't believe all i have to do to get there is three more weeks at the duck house and then 3000 miles back to the south. home. free.
honestly i have no clue what i'm gonna do with myself.... but i have some ideas.

anybody know anyone i can stay with? 

or anything cool to see along the way?

or some reason i shouldn't take this route?

listening to: the white stripes - going back to memphis

by the lake with the days of rum

if, in dreams, water represents the unconscious, as well as change and renewal, what about a swimming pool? what about the biggest ever interconnected network of swimming pools, filled with giant octopi and forgotten 70s music stars, and i'm swimming through the murky 70s water the entire time, the whole dream world is this pool? WHAT THEN???

i almost always dream of water, but this is unprecedented.


listening to: marissa nadler - old love haunts me in the morning (on phoning it in)

found poem (gchat)

he said he thought he should be more patient 
and listen to him when i ask 
pointed questions about his love life, 
because they might be helpful

but i don't know 
if i'm sure 
he really thinks that

no letters in the mailbox

wrote an email to KSB tonight explaining that i am going home for xmas and not coming back. she responded ten minutes later with a very diplomatic note that everything is fine and she's not worried about training the new staff and interns but that probably they can't pay me to work remotely. it sorta sucks to be out of a job, but it's kind of a relief to be starting fresh and not being obligated to this campaign anymore.

back to the south!! perhaps the movie really will be done by christmas and then katherine and i will tour with it in the spring and then maybe i'll go to folklore school or be a witch in the woods for real.

i have exactly ten more minutes of the movie that i have to color. then i just need to get katherine to review it, make whatever changes we need, and then it'll be DONE. really done. it's hard to believe.... better get back to work.


listening to: leonard cohen - diamonds in the mine

at the dark dark dark show, i expected to be so devastated, crying all over myself. instead i dance like this: swaying, loving the moment, and the buzz of the sound. just gazing up, basking in the presence of this talent. ​ ​



i loved you too carefully; i thought i had time. i moved through the days with a love song in my heart and mirah on my lips.

i think what you meant when you said you were bad at distance:

the time and care i put into every word slipped past you.
you were waiting (not for me)
you weren't prepared to see it through
you don't know how to be patient

AND IF YOU WEREN'T SURE:
why didn't you ask?

lament for lost autumn

for a chilly moment in the Mills dorm bathroom, i'm blown back to the fresh weeks of fall in the golden blue ridge mountains: bright, full, expectant.

california has made us small, our dreams lost ever since our open hands closed around degrees into tiny fists, into a world for forgetting. the price of the status. the cost of responsibility, the rewards that never come. what did we trade for those days of dreaming? a hot november afternoon, the sun and the geese on thr lake, sober as saints, counting bugs on our muddy legs and laughing deep for the first time in weeks.

tonight will be dancing, women, and wine; we will try to remember how to love, not forget.

i need to erase the whole system.

it's sick to realize there is only one reason to mindlessly peruse the internet. i am cutting it out. it is not easy. my skills are sharp. i was born to research librarians. i find a way.

then, again:
two dead doe.

all things die.
blood will flow.



the energy of the orgasm flows out into my hand to be reabsorbed. i'm sinking in but my guts are tying up in knots. the songs on shuffle distract and dismay, but still it comes.

BECAUSE I COULD SEE THAT YOU DIDN'T NEED ME
BECAUSE YOU MADE A CHOICE THAT YOU DENY
BECAUSE I SAW IT COMING
BECAUSE THIS WAS THE ONLY WAY IT COULD GO
 BECAUSE IT WAS THE ONLY GOOD THING
BECAUSE YOU LET ME BELIEVE

because i don't deserve good things
because unbelievable joy is never real

 i couldn't believe you loved me.
i shouldn't have.

because i never felt special to you
because i could have been anyone
because i was the last one standing
because you get what you want
because you mold the world to fit your desire
because you act for yourself and revise later

between ten moons i could not give you what you wanted.

ten moons
nine lives ???
eight women, the ones you call girls, the notches in your belt
seven years since the livejournal posts
six years since our band's first performance
five more days of sun on earth (six technically)
four a.m. and i hate myself for writing
three - the men who once loved me
two it only takes two. i thought we made a pair but we were never alone in here.
one chance. one choice.

OR three is a crowd. count me out.
two men, cancers. the only loves i've known.

in some ways i blame our familiarity, our set patrerns of communication. i had learned cautiousness, distance: dont ask too many questions, never expect direct or detailed answers. i looked forward to drawing you out but i saw no rush. i fretted over not being able to ask even the simple stuff: are you seeing other people? you never helped, you never said anything first. you never asked me for more. you never even made me come. you threw it away before we had begun.

i'm sorry i was not so easy. not simple. that it was taking time to rub down these callouses and that i was enjoying taking that time. i'm sorry i was not worth the wait.

when you flew me to your parents' house for the wedding, i thought your family was rude, i was hurt by how they didnt make an effort. now i see it was you that was rude - why should they have to bother again with another one-time girl? they knew your ways better than me, they were smart and stayed detached. why didnt anyone warn me? god i loved you so hard those nights, so unapologetically open wide. it was not enough, my love fell flat, you took yours back. i cant believe i was going to write a letter to your parents singing your praises, showering them with thanks. now i'm tempted to do the opposite. you didnt tell your parents about my love, but i told mine. i always believed.


i move through these memories and letters, replacing each swoon and vow with its opposite.
this is your way, it's only fair.

I dreamed you were so sorry.


the love doesn't go away.
the love dies at the wall of lies.
all these words unravel off your forked tongue.
do you even believe yourself?
this last letter tries so hard to be convincing, but i don't buy it any more than you do.
what a fool



i'm trying to unlearn your love
after realizing you meant
nothing you said.

if everything is true, then
what's left?



i've been running over all these words trying to find one thought
one phrase that might be a clue
it's killer
i can't find anything
it kills
you said you really loved me
that i didn't need to be worried or scared
that you just wanted to give life a shot
with me at your side
you made me believe
you told me to trust
to let go of what i held so tight
to breathe and open my tight fists
unwind in your arms and heart
i did it and i lost it all
why should i ever have believed
someone like you?
every small disagreement we had
rooted in this:
you only care about yourself
you live in the moment of your desire
you place yourself above the rest
you see yourself as better, deserving
you won't agree with any of this because
that's part of the game.
you can talk about the universe and
love all you want, but when's the
last time you put someone else first?

take me back to the river of dirt

go back to possum country. the house must be bigger on the inside. breathe into it, let the wind blow in. the woods will be waiting. let the sun be the light.

whats the hurry? you're not going anywhere and they're still waiting.

seek them out.

the cicadas in a song near made me cry
it's been so long since i've been home
(it's not a place i've ever known)
i dont remember going home

however

however happiness is never. the time it comes is the same that it goes.

the restless feeling makes me run to the bars, to the people, to the substance something. 
there is nothing there. that is not where i needed to be.

instead i'm trying this old tack: jam jar gin and tonics, a rollie on the porch out back. 

this isn't it. 

it isn't anywhere.

the only thing is the cat in the drawer.

the only thing is never, more.

i pretend this isn't right, that there's another place for me.

it's nowhere. 
it's nothing. 

cant even complete these sentences. all i hear is wrong.

how i see myself: fetal, constant screams and tears, gouged, heart hanging out, hanging on by a blood thread, all exposed, undone, over.

the reality: the bright monitor blurring through misted eyes, hoodie pulled up all the way, burning through queries, mark as unread mark it undone


how does the heart break? how does it all still seem the same?

this is how the heart breaks: silent and still.
try to keep pumping, working, breathing.
try to pretend there is still a living thing in here.
pretend there is a purpose.
try to pretend you will make it.
pretend to try to get better.

say, honey i am not sorry

every time you look, you get sick to your stomach, feel nauseous and dizzy, the cavern cracked in your chest, gouged. you need to lock up all the offenses in a box and get it out of sight, burn it if necessary.

don't forget: last night you felt nothing. thirty minutes on the phone, and nothing. the drop in your gut at the predictable typical "hello?" multi-tasking at the party, the ugly silence. how flippant to your low note, how ungrateful and spoiled for a charmed life.

you drink, and dream of women: cale's birthday a circus of pierced nipples, rooms full of bathtubs, and balancing acts on floating balloons. waking up is not real life, but you have a better memory of what it could be. you just want a 19th-century romance with a woman in a field.

GOALS:
--acrobalance
--herb garden
--sublet/house-sit cabin
--animate with morgan


You are Eeyore. 


listening to: joanna newsom - kingfisher

good things for today

• hot cuppa tea
• popcorn with yeast and garlic salt
• writing letters
• tearing paper
• dandelions
• baby bowl before bed
• not looking at the computer
• not giving a fuck

NEW PLANS:

--run away with morgan and be secret princesses in caves

--find some awesome artist who needs a personal assistant

--move into a roadside attraction
--don't worry about any of these fuckhead fakeys
--don't bother talking to anyone who doesn't bother talking to you
--cultivate ugliness
--every letter a suicide note

--cut it out
--love the cut

envelope words

it's the last thing i would've wanted him to say. don't ever say anything is pretty ever again.
you tell me you're working on words but if that's possible, how are you so far? do you understand i'm falling apart, crushed? NO. you couldn't. every letter a suicide note why do i bother? every dark patch bristling card calling me. i feel like i'm going so much crazier than everyone else -- of course we all are, so why? we're all running ragged on our fears and insecurities and stress of every kind. all i want to do forever is cry and creak and die and cry but i can't ever.
i was trying to think of the response i would want. i could only think of the one i wouldn't: this was that one. this was the one that killed me. i can't do this. there's nothing to change that could fix it. i just have to move on and find someone who can begin to understand. is there a person like that? is there anyone, anywhere for me? why am i so far? what can i do to find my place? i feel so sad and stupid for asking but there's nothing to cry and nowhere to go and i need to take care of everyone, i need them all to stay and live and love and make everything good, i know they can make it. i try to make them see all their good and find each other. if only we could really build it.... i wish i could believe. all i see is the razors in the drawer + the stains on the floor.

​olisten, don't worry, it's fine. i've said this before,
but i mean it this time:
i can't do this anymore.


you will not wonder what could have been. you will continue to believe i could have tried harder, when you never tried at all.
you never even said what happened.
you never even explained that the pledge was done. you broke it and you pretended you hadnt.
i can't begin to say my disappointment.

​​ i will make this because i am the only one who will. i will do my damnedest because it's all that i can do. these things are fleeting, this is what they are. i will make every letter a suicide note, a ship of leaves set to sail down a trickling gutter stream. i am the moss at the bottom of the street.

WHAT FUCKING EMAIL DO YOU EVEN KEEP REFERENCING IN WHICH YOU DECLARE YOUR LOVE OR SMOE SHIT

i was afraid to let go and give my love freely. when i did, it was given back.
​it's pretty HIGHLARIOUS that i predicted everything in this poem, by lumping you in with the rest before it was even true.
you should understand that i'm disappointed and hurt that you left me for someone new. or rather, placed me on the backburner (yes i've been there before.)
but i'm really hurt and really angry and disgusted that you didn't tell me first, that instead of checking in, you checked the fuck out. really did you care for me so little? after pulling out all my love and trust, after you told me over and over that it was okay and you were here and full of love, after we pledged ourselves to each other. why didn't you tell me that plans had changed? why didn't you tell me there was at least the possibility?
and as far as not "understanding upset or hurt" or whatever garbage, i don't fucking believe you for a second and i really wish you'd drop this holier than thou shit and get back in the dirt with the rest of us. saying that crap (and actually believing it?!) just makes you seem all the more selfish, naive, and oblivious. which i guess is what you really are, and congratulations on finding someone who buys into that.
what does "sorta" mean?
how angry should i be?
do you know how i pined? do you know what i risked?
it kills me how defensive you were. how you float away to your intellectual land where nothing matters and there's no point to anything. do you really believe that? how did we ever love if that's true? how can you throw this all away?
do you know how it feels to have your heart jumping out of you, your chest always an aching cavern, open to everything? how is it that i can feel this much?
it's constant pain. i know you don't believe.
of course i could never make it with someone who doesn't believe in anything. of course he sees my sadness rules me.

you didn't miss me. you don't need me. i should've known.... i think i did which is where the test came in. i saw this coming before you did. i saw it all. i was never your style, i could never be your girl.
just don't pretend this was something that happened to you. you are making the choice every step that you take. fate led you to the water but you didn't have to drink.
i am the desert, the place where men sink.

how could you be so naive, so selfish, so ENTITLED????
why did i believe that you respected me
why did i believe when you said about getting rejected, being hurt, the one that was left
why didn't i notice that long line of girls stretched out before me all along
why didn't i call to them
how did i not see how much you worship yourself, your disdain for human relations, your carelessness

fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
i thought you knew me better. i thought i could believe that you'd grown. but you are still the same immature boy who loves the lie and the pit.
i'm too embarrassed to tell my friends what happened between us. i was so fucking excited.
you tried to get in touch in the weakest ways, so fucking polite. one text a week and a couple one-line emails. no calls, no letters; it was clear you didn't need me, miss me, didn't feel like i feel.
you wanted to silence to give you the go.
i asked what do you want, and you say you want to talk it out. what i hear is you want to make yourself feel better before you move on and leave me to my silence. i will not give you that.
you are a fucking coward. do not blame me that we never settled on a label or a name; you never tried to have the conversation. it was easy on you, you could slip out at any time. you did, i knew you would.
i feel so stupid for letting myself fall. i saw this coming from the start. but i do put my heart before my head, whatever you think. i believed in our power, the magic of us. i thought we could overcome our fears and failures.
of course i love you, that's why i am so broken. what did you think? i warned you what would happen.

ten moons. write it about how i feel, not what he did. he will not understand the blaming language. you have to make him understand through confessions and truth.

filling and refilling the bucket with water. filling up and pouring out. a branch cat​​ches my arm and leaves a cool drop of morning dew, the last one left at high noon hiding in the dark bush. a cobweb catches my hair, surrounds and tangles, a new nest.
the bucket will never be clean. the water will come out clear and pure and will muddy instantly in the stained white plastic.