enjoy some tunes while you guzzle down all this emo content

Sunday, April 08, 2018

keyculator dam disaster

theimmediaten probelmwith this chairn is tehs nsteeri ng wheel.. fuc,ing.

everye fucking time i close a door
every fucking time i close a door
every fucking climb i chose before
every fucking time an open door
it's here
i can't see anymore
it's okay
it's better
it's better not to see but fast
but fast
the keyculator
the atic
thank you dear one

i just saw january baby on my bookshelf in my room who has been there for who knows how many years somehow i just saw her for the fierst time since coming home
these are my eyes
these are my pathetic eyes
finally i was able to say
thank you
thank you
but where were my eyes before
where did i think she was
where did i think i was
how do i know what i was without her
my little external soul
arent we lucky to have so many external souls
little bits and pieces we can scatter
arent we witches lucky
let's keep mixing
this is the pot
this is the mixigt pot this is the potion
i make myself into you this is the potion
i am infecting you
this is the potion
i am inflirtrating you this is the potion

i like to sneak i like to creep
i like to hunt i like to haunt
i like to fly i like to leap
i like to sink i like to flaunt

who has a heart

whose is it

the cat comes in the car as the neighor porch light blinks on off on off every time a car passes but
but hello kitty
scratching it all up i love it
scratching it up and my fingers so faimliar
this is the only way out here to write in teh dark

i just checked and again i'm sure
this is the only way to write in teh dark.

remember how many words we actually accidentally destroyed
and we stil feel the pain from this loss

in the dark we're still typing and still fighting the cause
not winning we're sipping cheap booze & cheap talls
instituions out there think theyre too big to fall
but they're not accounting a fight from the smalls

we trash talk we lip lock we jay walk for miles
we dumpster we live learn we long fur & smiles
don't you think yr gonna catch a crow's nest full of fools
if you think yr safe from it, the joke's on you
come into the possum den and watch how we make brew
look at what you did instead and realize yr a tool
oh boy okay

they said
it was like being in a house full of ravens
they said
people with adhd often interrupt someone else in conversation

is this response a crime?
is it a diagnosis?

listen especially because
i want to be good at listening
i don't want to be the probelm
i am trying to show my

herees the deal
heres the deal
i want to be good who doesn't wan to be good
it's hard
i find
i become aware that i am hurting you
even when i don't mean to
my sounds are too much
my voice is too loud
my memory is awful
my hlifes over crowd

and here is this cat that has soethinhg to say
\he's rubbing his face
all over th kays

and here is the point when i ask myself plain
can i honor my words or break them again
do i drink one last drink and keep on this train
or go to bed now to ease future pain

i'm not sure i heard it i'm scared that i've missede it
the truth is there's nothing there's nothing that's right
and the ghosts with the most only find you at night

have i answered myself
have i made it okay
can i say fuck it and throw it away
i know
it's true
on some level i am a vessel
i used to think it was a secret that i wasn't allowed to say
i pretended that the messengers were the ones who would be mad if i told about their presence
when i know now it was just a cover up for my fear
my huge huge fear
indescribable fear
who gave to me this fear
it was not these friends who knew me so long and carried me so far
it was not these ones
the fear comes from this specific hell
and i felt it so long and so much and i want to be rid of its poisonous touch
and probably these rhymes which just billow and gush
and the way i am sure nothing matters past dusk

i'm sorry i cut you off. i'm sorry for all the time i wasn't listening. thank you for keeping me going even when i didn't konw it. thank you for not letting me drive off the road. thank you for not letting me kill anything (much - i know there were bugs and butterflies and i feel it too and i am sorry but i know that it could have been worse)

i pet the cat the good soft cat cat . he has a lot of demands. he doesn't want to chill here unless he has a flat lap. it has to be a flat lap bigger than mine because my hips arent wide enough and i never sit flat enough and i never seem to be able to stay still and i can never take my mind off of my fucking self and i am obsessing and fretting and horrified and diseased and there's a monster you cannot see and i know he knows theres a better lap somewhere so he'll never stay vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvcccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccx v
unless he's published somewhere

it wasn't nice bc he bit me
i don't know what i expect

i relly cant tell if yall condone this or not. but i know there's something special about sitting alone in the dark. i don't want it to be this poison that it takes to get me there. every time i feel it i dont think ill last the year

the thing is i know there's too many messages. i don't shut myself away from them often enough. this is almost your only time to reach me. you send signs. sometimes i see them and sometimes i'm resistant. sometimes i experience the things they call "adhd" or "gad" or "ptsd" and the message dissipates. i wantedc it i wanted to hear it i wanted to see it i'm trying i'm trying. oh am i trying????
there are so many messages coming at me, and i really do want to hear them, i want to hear everything, feel everything, i want it all. I WANT I TALL. i'm listening i'm trying. i'm never going to be good enoug listener OH RIGHT ALSO I'M ALWAYS TALKING OVER PEOPLE EVEN WHEN I DONT MEAN TO. what do i do what do i do what do i do.
the question i sdo i really need another
how long do i sit witht his
okay i;m turing off teh msuc

iit's a song i love but it isn't appropriate right now.

i'm ready though
the amazing train
it's always voice singing to our memphis night
to our track south night
it might be singing get out but we hear a lullaby
i've never heard anything else like those tones
those tones
like nothing else
those tones

i get this feeling like
someone some littel fool is dancing on top of my head and i can't see or feel them
i get this feeling like everything is a joke
what a mess what a mess

is the train just saying go to bed??

did the train ever really mean thiat??

the train say syes jnow.

yes in response.
i don't know if i'm ready for that to happen.

and when youve scared yourself
and when youve scared yourselvef youre scared the others around you

and youve broken thee clown rules
and you've broken the rules
and now you have to say
you're welcome
because it's against the rules to say i'm sorry

and sometimes you feel so loud and you take up too much space and you want to drown
and sometimes you feel like a nothiness thing that could probably stop existing at any moment as long as enough people don't see you at once
and you're going and you're gone and you're fading and you're on and you don't know where to be except ohohohohohover on the outskirts on the edge like a cheese ball like a racket like a noise club like a sunday jacket like a hag gone ragged like yr
help okay\

are you mad at me for this
are you mad at
how can i
how can i heal this bone cold sickness
without a walk in the woods

the cord will talk to itself for eternity, we dont have to worry about it
these machines will speak and gossip just all of forever don't worry

why can't i write any damn thing without worrying about its future
katherine is sweet to tell me i'm good at being in the valley of despair
but maybe i've spent so long here that i've gone bananas
at some point the creative energy has to flow out
you have to make a thing or start over
i don't know what i've done
i dont know what i've said
i messed up when i got the beer
insteaf of going to bed

i dont konw how to stop
i dont know when to end
i dont know what to do when i hear that tarin a'comin round the bend

and i did a lotta cocaine
just kidding
thanks johnny
i just did a baby
oh what!
it was far less
far far less
than the weight of a baby
misicule in comparison
why did i ever say such nonsense

i hear the train a cmoin
it's comin round the bend
i hear the cars and think of bars
where they might've been and
i dont know how to be there
or how to empathize
at least not for a single
i live that 12 pack life
the more i think about it
good fuxking luck diagnosing me
i know i have tendencies in whatever symptom direction you wanna say
but how're you plannin to parse this ?shit
i mean
it's not like y'all didn't try yr best
but HA how i get a different acronym for every different day i come in

it's funny haha like
i receive the diagnosis - oh yes it's chemical, it's hereditary -
and i can start to draw the line all the way back, sure
it can make sense any way you look at it
if you want it to

first of all
i chain smoke in the car
bc i don't wanna go in and out of the house.
it's not my house. i'm paranoid. i try to play quiet mouse.
sometimes tomorrow i'm so sure of my failure, my not good enough ness, my LIAR LIAR tries, surely they know and they hate it and me and there's so many secrets in this family
so i hide in my cave and i cry to my phone and the day is a waste in a trap of my own
bc fuxking of course when i finally come out
there's nothing that's changed or charged, there's no doubt
that i'm doing the best that i possibly can with all that i have which is mostly
nine books' worth of psycho prophesying
a list of letters that scramble and giggle to me

i can see
now i know i have adhd
and those of us with this thing
have a habit of interrupting
is that why my whole family shouts and sings ?
is that why our language comes out in screams ?
how we talk with each other like birds in a roost
constant, in & under, our southern mouths loose
and now that i'm out in a public environment
i'm told it's a symptom of the disease i inhabit
and oh
and oops
and duck
and it's true that it's happening when i don't want it to
it's true that i'm listening but my words want in too
and i swear they're only there because i think i'm only responding
not that i'm interrupting or not listening to you talking
where i come from we're talking sitting around the roost
we're yelling and we're laughing and our tongues are wagging loose
there's no such thing as silent circles or crowds to praise you alone
if it ain't loud, i don't want it
i need ravens in the home

it's not entirely true but it sure does make a good story. i'm trying to say. i'm trying to say i don't mean to be mean when i interrupt.
i see how it throws you and it makes me quake.
i see how it can feel jarring and abrupt to be what you think is cut off
or challenged or bones or piece of hide when someone's saying stuff
as you tell your story or the version that's only allowed when your audience is boring

i know
we know who you think we are

wait wait wait
that's not it
this was supposed to be an apology
gravy i can't believe it's already 3
but i gotta keep going
and i don't believe in morning
unless it's dark and no one comes calling

i like the sneak i like the hunt i like to creep i like to haunt

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

why do i feel like you can see me?

i am the death i am the death i am the hell how am i still talking how is this allowed how has no one severed this head this tongue
they want to it's true
WOOOowwwww so emo and still
you can never know what htey want
which one is it
which is the real one
which is the one wanted
who is invited
who gets in the door
who gets to throw down
who gets to lay down
there is a fuzz between them WHO?
pop pop crack
the spine says no
the story stops
how long can anyone sit still?
how long can the body pretend

what does it mean to have nothing looking back

what does it mean

they're looking at you and you know them but you've forgotten who you're being
i can't
the last

i remember
talking heads bed dancing high while everyone else is downstairs
that can't be the last time
i remember
boat hat beers in the dirty dirty poor and hungry bar
and even then
of the census
20...10....??? could that be possible?
i rambled about cats
for years
my conspiracy theory about an underground tunnel network where not one but TWO of my cats were devoured for 6+ weeks from my back door into oblivion and back
that happended.
and i sure did talk about.
oh yeah and
i'm sure at the slider
and i'm sure at the lamp
and i'm sure i have been a fool at every occasion
is that wanted?
tell me how to be
i busted up
i bust it up
i dont' know the difference
i want the difference
i want the other space
i want to go THERE
let's go .... o?!
but yeah so i don't do it so good as i wish
and i
oh yeah
i remember that house on tucker
maybe he was dating xoe.?
how is anyone supposed to know.
oh wait
it's only me that doesnt
and i'm still fucking going
(the most pitiful thing)
((i just want someone to work with))
how can i know if i should keep going
how do i know if this is the REAL STUFF
crak crak pop
roolllllssss rols
gimme okay
gimme okay one more
yeah okay one more
gimme yeah good one
yes never don't yes never stop
keep yes keep on keep forever
tell me
when did i get so into symmetry
tell me when i
get so into me
oh yeah so
kat and i were talking about being BABIES
and how those patterns are still played out
i dunno about you
but i was a fucking needy fucking baby oh geeeeeeeeeez
always skin burning always never happy always crying
but they called me a changeling
and gave me more love than they knew they had
now i'm in toruble
now my glasses call on the floor and i just
i just can't
i dont' know how to call them back
i don't know what's worth it
i dont' know how they made me worth it
i'm needing needing needing
i hate that i need it
i hate the symmetry but i crave it
i dont' know how to not want to help
i don't know how to not find the person who is a project
who is a baby
who is me
who is a changeling
who my favorite illustrator trina shart hyman said was a faery
that isn't me
i see the thing and
i am the thing ??
even without the mirror i
what's the difference even

here. i can say.
it expresses through my toes.
crunching and flexing.
just look
it's a toe code
aka toad
hop along
don't forget
even now they twist and curl and say WHAT NOW WHAT NEXT YOU SAID
oh yeah i did
i said
i know what i said
does that mean i have to?
oh well
because the toes say so
the toes now are twitching
they do their symmetrical dance
(who even teaches them such nonsense?)
we just want to dance
we just want

fg sdouae


 youn are
ouojn are y
oyoh a
re y

youten are
yournea the


oiyoikkiy hoiiekejkeiekd,weiekflgjfuewjwskfkmnrkle
youn are the literal worst
you are the literal worst
you are the listera worst
you are the listeral wrost
you are the listeral
you are htel isteral ywuers
you are the listeral  worst
you are the literal wrost
you are the literal owrst
you are the literal oworst
you are the litereal owrst
hou areth thelaitera ost
you are the literal worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literal owrst
you are the literal worst
you are hte literalo worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literalo worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literalo worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literal owrst
you are the literal worst
you are the literal worst
you are the literalo wost

wo shw
hwyea yea yea yeah yeah
wos wos
what nwo
yeah oakya so now
okay yeah so now
what now

oh yeah
you know what now
this is the part where i sneak out out out out sneak quiet creep creak the front door squeak into the out out out into the rain night rain into the car into the mold into the bold mold mobile where i can hear the rain rain rain and not this ... haha you guessed it
let's try again

Monday, March 26, 2018

how do you know when to move?

for the second time in the last four days i found myself fighting my alarm clock and snoozing over and over, not for the usual reason of just not being ready to get up, but having the sense that i was supposed to be protecting something or holding space for some kind of dream meeting. the first time - friday morning i think? - took place in some building that felt very institutional. i know there were people and a story but i don't remember them at all. i just knew that once i woke up they wouldn't be able to have this time together anymore - like i was a conduit for something Other. and i remember at one point the conscious part of my brain, snoozing, saying "brett would never understand this" which of course he denied when i told him.

and this morning something similar - i'm supposed to be protecting something so i have to stay. i must've known what it was i was protecting but now i can't remember. and then some voice from elsewhere giving me the go ahead to get up, "there's nothing you need to protect now."

who is it that speaks to me?

don't remember my dream at all except that for some reason while brushing my teeth, katherine's new favorite song popped into my head (the waters of march) and i remember part of a dream where i start singing some little random melody (ba ba ba baaa) and katherine asks "were you thinking of that great part in the waters of march just now?" and i say i wasn't, but actually HAD been thinking of it and then tried to consciously disguise the melody into something different.

what / why am i hiding ?

Saturday, March 03, 2018

keyculator speak

today is friday march 2, i guess it's just after midnight so. i'm drinking beer and i just had my first cigarette after 2+ weeks without. i'm trying to understand teh impulse. i know part of it is teh moment itself but what's teh feeling that leads to it and the feeling that hapens afterwards? tonight i thought i would write some messages to friends inviting them to teh movie at SXSW and maybe even post on some groups about the screenings. or do some research. or even just read my book. but there was a shift, a switch flipped. and none of that productive stuff is what i want anymore. i have been filling this void for years this way - beer, smokes, drown it. i use the time too to connect, talk with friends, hang out. if i'm alone i can SING or listen to music in a devoted way that i don't normally allow myself to. or this- I WRITE. is that what i really need to be allowing myself? the smoking and drinking is the excuse for the thing i want. the honest, the open, the art, the silliness.

and so now i'm on beer .. 4 and cough syrup (the prescribed dose thank you) and the friends somehow suddenly disappeared, as they always seem to do once i decide to lay down deep in teh groove, and i see that i'm alone, and i become terrified. look at this fucking hell i've wrought, look at this mess i am. i can't figure what eh trigger was. why did they leave? what have i done?
jerel jerel jerel i love you. what can i do for you. am i a horrible person for you to be around. am i the worst influence. am i the whitest cis lady asshole. i want to be better. i am sorry. i am sorry. i want to love you i want to hold you i want to keep listening. i wish i could cat scratch my own hands. i wish the pen pierced deeper in the palm. you're 6 nyquil down and i'm 6 states away and i can't fucking stand it, i'm drinking to fill the space. come here, come home. if you don't know what you're looking for it's okay. if you think you might fail it's okay. there's nothing worse than not trying.
do i just want you to love me?
am i so
so so so so
so so
so so
pathetic ???
i can see the love that will ignite between the webs, i see how you will fit into the fold. the connection is not just mine.
if i have no other purpose in this world i don't care as long as i can connect us. i'm proud of the fires i started. to leave the people in a room and see the light turn on.
i want to be so much better than i am.
i have been so bad at getting better.
i create impossible goals. i fail i fail and i grieve the failure. i drink, i smoke, i tell myself i was meant for it.
my breasts feel heavy with regret. days i hate them, only visualize slicing them loose. be free!
i want anything more than these pink claws, flesh sack, milkless bags of misery, all this pink raw hell, the nebula of pain on my thigh, the twitching curl back the WHY the WHY i can't speak bodies i can't handle them i can't encase them i can't comprehend.
more reasons to be celibate! a few more of which i attempted to articulate to jerel earlier today-- i think it felt good to just spew toward him when he wasn't there, just typing typing putting my thoughts down. it's always good to do. i'm always glad when i've doen it. even when it's terrible it's good to get it out. i got it out to him. i felt like it was maybe good too because it said with definity, finally, i am not looking for your sex, when i say i love you, i am not sexing at you. it is not the feeling of now. so i felt like okay i probablky overshared a bit. i always do. but conveying that i think was important. maybe it broke some tension. even if it was just my tension. like what i told him - being celibate right now is partially about releasing the tension of sexual expectations. if they aren't there to begin with we can find new ways, maybe old ways, to communicate, to hold, to become intimate. i miss it i miss it i miss it. i think even i miss the imitation of sex from childhood, what it was in my fiction before it became stagnant and hard and painful rough fixed performed dissociated.
how sleepy am i
how tingly am i
what is my body for
there is this twiddling pain to the left of my spine in the middle of my back, just licking a little this week. what have you come here for? or the tight knot in my gut, and the little pinching pain next to my belly button that grips when i laugh or cough. the pain i ignore. is that what the body is for?
last night i thought i would explode. maybe it was these last two weeks of illness and mostly lying in bed and just routine and nothing and slugging and feeling like an alien just leaving the house once and having to pretend to be a human in front of normies. i thought i would burst. i had the moment where i saw the mirror and the tension exploded. where my eyes went fire and my limbs went wild and my fingers had to fierce explode and gesture strong and my face talked to itself in the mirror without any words that would mean anything except to itself. where i'm nearly clambering up the counter to mash back into myself, unlike usuually where i avoid that shape altogether. who is that creature who comes out? who wants to play? does it have to happen when i'm drinking? (i know that isn't true but how can i invite it out otherwise? where is the space?) WHERE IS TE SPACE WHEREI S THE SPACE.
i've otld myself i've told myself
but how ca ni carve it when i can't start it
i need more loves i need comrades i don't know thati can go it alone. i lose so easy.
i wish i could

Sunday, January 21, 2018

do you remember the children's book "frederick" by leo lionni?

the good feeling i've been riding took a dip last night and i'm worried it'll run away and i still won't have pinned it down at all. it's so hard to even believe it enough to say it, or if i manage to find the words, they'll become only that, and the feeling will fade. but now that it's a question it's better to just do it... right?

i can already feel myself overthinking this. that is the last thing i want to do. what do i have? i have these fast fast fingers and i can type my brain better than i think! i can write the words my mind makes up! i can sound like a real me in text! (i know because laylee told me that 15 years ago and rex told me so today and so i have to BELIEVE or what if i lose it or what if there's something important i could be doing that i miss because i haven't done anything about it. you know.)

it's so hard to believe. it's so hard to let myself remember what i'm good at.

BUT after xmas after snata craws and rodent carols and another round of GREAT GROUP i was near convinced, i clowned for myself in the mirror and i was able to get there which surprised me - but why should it? donna said not to look at ourselves to practice our turns and i totally understand that advice. but so often when i look at the mirror and i see this strange face and i think this can't possibly be me or be real or be anything at all, and i just shut down. for so long i have turned away i have pushed my nails into my palms to unsee i have gritted my teeth and pushed breath through to see to be anything else. now i find that in the times in the late night in the mirror i can explore and see what this body can do. i can see how to find the biggest expressions of the face, i can elasticize.


i forget. i forget who the body belongs to. i froget we frog together. the mirror thing, with the perfect dissociative cocktail, surprises and delights. the mirror thing becomes elastic, electric, fantastic.

the thing that hurt to look at, the thing i could never understand how to belong to, i find this thing, when stared down, goes wild. it can't behave and doesn't want to try. it wasted a lot of toilet paper.

this is only partially a new discovery. the feeling is in the body, some of it is already memorized. it's burning embers in there all the time, even though i forget.

i guess i'm rambling now. the important part is -- i have gotten so tired of beating myself up for being bad at stuff. of course that sounds very reasonable written down in such a way. but the things i'm bad at are things that many people find necessary to function - eating, sleeping, organizing belongings, remembering information, simple math, wearing clothes, forming words, etc. i don't really want to care about being bad at all that mess. it happens or it doesn't. i can't remember the names of important people or pretty much anything i learned in school. i can't remember why i hate mother teresa until i look it up on wikipedia (and promptly forget the facts again, but i remember the feeling).

i remember the feeling i remember the feeling i remember the feeling

i am toying with the idea of applying to physical theatre school. i am considering how to make my body into a rubber band or flower. i want to be able to squeeze everything out of the present moment and explode it out of myself. i want to roll around and jump and shriek and freak and confuse the fuck out of people. i want to present another way to be.

if not me, then who? if not a someone with hardly any logical memory but great arches, then what am i even around for? surely someone out there is gonna do it. surely they could stand some company.

this was all made abundantly clear, several times in fact, right around the winter solstice. as it turns out, that was right when i was completing my first saturn return - and perfect timing to say fuck you everybody, i don't care what you think, i can see so clearly what is important. (reminder of what is important: friends, love, art, magic. this is an incomplete list but you get the idea.)

morgan got back in town for the holiday and wanted to go out to the bar with friends. she picked the so-called irish pub, not knowing that a bunch of us had gone there for trivia the night before (don't worry, we lost) so many of our group didn't come along this time. and it ends up me & brett (& later kat) in the weirdos corner with morgan's most type A segment of friends all crowded into the booth on the other side and all i can say is "YEP here i am again indeed, oh and what now? i'm doing an in depth study of mental health, now that i'm back from the loony bin" and there's nothing like a night like this to remind me how much i don't want that life, with the husbands and the babies and the business casual luncheons. UGH writing that is so obvious i could just spit on myself but no no that is most of the world and i think i can be allowed to write it down occasionally. the important part here is that i maybe felt a little embarrassed at first and especially trying to explain wtf i'm doing with myself, yes back in memphis, yes living with my folks, yes again, but more than ever, i feel like answering this questions is more a nuisance than anything else. i don't really care if they judge me for the answers. i don't really give a fuck what they think, truly. are they judging me for being practically unemployed and living with my parents at 30 and oh ordering another drink this late? yes they definitely are. and am i judging them for being salaried breeders who always vote democrat? yes i definitely am. so we're even.

i'm tired of the waffling shuffling pretending i can play for both sides. when i lived in baltimore i felt like 2 people in 1 body-- a demure, polite, if slightly eccentric, part-time librarian with sensible shoes and nothing but patience, and a barefoot feral drunk at the local anarchist commune / urban farm (except not even totally that because i still had to make sure the bills got paid and be The Sensible One which is not me at all and was boring as fuck).

i'm tired of fucking around with that world pretending i can play along. i just can't hack it.
i know i know i don't have it. i'm far from it. it's been six months now since i got out of the loony bin and came home. it doesn't feel like that long but i know my folks are getting antsy for me to figure my shit out and get a move on. meanwhile i don't want to rush making a decision because that is what keeps getting me into messes, it seems like. but i think i'm getting somewhere this time. maybe.

when i was a kid we lived in a small bungalow house in the artsy neighborhood of town, before it got gentrified. the dining room in the center of the house had 8 walls, branching off to the front hallway, our bedrooms, the kitchen, the bathroom, the back yard. "the octagonal room" was the true center & the heart of the house. at that table, my mama accidentally served us inedible cake decorations at the table. at that table, we grew crystals for SIX WHOLE WEEKS on plastic toys & charcoal for a science fair project. and under that table, most importantly, we made our own world. no fort could compare to the one on the persian carpet, table cloth on all sides, and pillows snatched out of beds. what did we do under there? i'm not quite sure but it was all magical, always, because it happened there, in the secret sacred space.

that's the space i want to create for people. if i am not here to take people under the table, i'm not sure what i am doing at all.

***there are other worlds there are other worlds there are other worlds* and they are all around us**

now i've got 3 glasses of wine in me and i still haven't packed so. i'm annoyed bc i dont think i even said what i was trying to say. or it all come out wrong. fuck all. the point is, i am frederick. (or i wish i were.)

Friday, January 05, 2018

maybe tomorrow no beer is best.

today i was in an okay mood. not super happy persay but confident and ready. i beat myself up a lot for not being good enough at one thing or another - my memory is garbage for one thing. i can't seem to remember all the world things other people do. but i can remember my friends and my own personal history pretty well and that makes me feel very self involved. so last night, today, i was saying, so what?? maybe i can't remember that stuff because i'm not living in the same reality as everyone else and maybe there's nothing wrong with that. maybe that means i'm egotistical on some level but it doesn't mean i don't care. maybe i just need to embrace that i'm comfortable over here and i don't need to try to memorize all the same facts as everyone else just for the sake of conversation. maybe it's okay to make faces in the mirror and try to be in my wiggle body.

i had been excited about the concept of dell arte, then i looked again at the curriculum and the tuition and quickly became intimidated and overwhelmed. then i got settled into this new years mood and felt like so what? why should i be worried about having to perform something new every week and my ideas not being good enough? why am i already putting so much pressure on myself? can't i for once become some silly puddy? haven't i always known what to do? that i could do it bigger, better, more more more? i can see it so clearly sometimes. sometimes i forget, sometimes i remember i've already been doing it all along. i can be allowed to do more. i love to overdo it. i love to make people laugh. i love to be as stupid as i can. i love to forget and reinvent and remember and forget. i want to make it happen. i don't know what else i can do. if not me, then who??

and then and then it falls apart. i don't want to write it now bc writing the first part made me feel better and i want to hold that while i sleep. maybe tomorrow. maybe not. (short version - family is hard.)

Tuesday, December 26, 2017


i was already anxious about rodent carols but now it's completely bungled. it feels like everything i'm part of goes horribly wrong. like i'm obsessed with collaboration but i'm potentially the element that is always complicating destroying everything. there's almost something clownish about it. like i really really want to make it work but my wanting creates the complication. is it better not to bother? or does goodness come from the effort? i'm not sure which at the moment. but leaning towards the former.

Saturday, December 16, 2017


let's be real. i have always been a feelings person. my strength comes from my empathetic side.

why has it been so hard for me to find my way ?

some of it i'm blaming on adhd. especially now that my head is more clear and i'm not so depressed i can see patterns better. i focus intensely on something or fixate on an idea for a few days and then move on, for whatever reason. i have not focused long enough to specialize in anything.
it's not only adhd of course but i think that definitely helps with the quickness and the forgetting. what do i do? even i don't know. but it means i'm good at hyperfocusing and concentrating super hard on one specific thing for an extended period of time - and then also being able to shift my focus quickly to something else. some of this maybe is just keen perception. i see all the things. i see the choices that make sense. (in simple logistical situations anyway. other times i'm a dolt.)

the point is.
the point is everything i already know but always forget.
i am a feelings person. i am an art oriented person.
i might be interested in things like sociology and herbal medicine and animal behavior but i have never had the drive to focus on those things long enough to really learn them. could i if i wanted to? sure but then i'd have to actually choose a thing. that is the hardest part.

but when i think about learning something like clown or performance or dance i am just sure i could do it. in terms of my excitement and my confidence i'm all in. it's only REAL WORLD garbage thoughts that crush me. i should be doing the other thing. the real thing.

HOW IS IT that i am still having this thought process even after being brought up on the value of art? how is it that my parents taught me that and yet they scoffed at every nonacademic artistic dream i ever had???? it's driving me bonkers that i'm just now realizing the full weight of this. i feel like other people's folks tend to swing one way or the other, like kat's parents consumed by their research or alice's music teacher folks. mine are some in between with my dad as collector/hobbyist who finally decided to try his hand at writing in his 50s, and my mama hinting at some vague dreams of writing or storytelling or some wisp of a memory of a dream so incomplete it is just dust, but still she's passing it off, urging us to write, to publish, to create, except no don't go to art school bc you need a job.

oh it's just a mess it's a muddle. like the world like all our brains.
and me always in the middle why ??
does everyone feel that they're here?
outside in the middle
not right. not center
caught between options until you're nothing

this must be what everyone feels.
but still for some reason everything is so hard for me. it all takes so much time. i can hardly get anything done. my days disappear. here i am still. driving my parents crazy. no more of a plan than i had in july. where did the time go? everyone tells me i'm doing so well, it's so good to take my time to heal properly, except my mama. why can't she let me do this ?

i'm up too late. at this rate i will want to skip the social shit tomorrow but i guess i'd better not. damn. rot.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

man i'm having another rough day. i've been trying to sort through papers and finding a lot of intense writing from this past year. i'm kind of leaning into the feelings and doing a lot of looking back which might be dangerous but i am telling myself it's important to piece it together and process it. like if i let myself fully feel it now, now that i can actually look at the past without having a panic attack, i can just get it over with and put it to rest for good?? is that how this works ??? 

everything you are is a lie.
i've gone invisible. i'm back down the well, i'm going all the way.

Friday, November 10, 2017

rage share

i went to my favorite cozy dive bar on halloween bc i didn't feel like being around a ton of people (still in recovery and feeling social anxiety constantly lately) and we were having a great time in the practically empty bar. after a while a bunch of folks showed up after a concert ended, the vibe in the bar changed a little but it was still chill, singing with the jukebox and making fun of horror movies on tv. then the door swung upon and i heard a voice i hadn't heard in years... i tried to convince myself it was someone else. i looked my bff in the eyes and said "please tell me this is not happening" but it didn't click instantly for them. it wasn't until the dude sat behind my friend at the bar next to us that they realized it was the person we used to know so well, who dated and cheated on more than one of my best friends, who violated my consent over 10 years ago, whose friends and crushes stay the same age as he gets older, who is now apparently happily married and childrened. oh lovely. i could leave, but i will not let this person ruin my good time. i continue to clown and laugh and make merry. it's halloween and the veil is thin and i'm feeling good. suddenly a hand on my shoulder, a towering oppressive presence which is DUDE, pushing himself between me and my buddy, with, "i know we aren't really friends anymore, but i just wanted to say happy halloween" or some shit. the words become fuzzy in my mind as i try to comprehend what is happening. autopilot kicks in and i'm clinking beers "happy halloween!" attempting to smile, not making eye contact, just hoping he will go away, which he finally does. but he's still there at the bar behind my friend (and mind you, this a tiny fuxking bar the size and shape of a hallway) so i can see when he glances at us and whispers to his date, and when he's surrounded by so many young friends in his crossdress costume. whatever. i don't know this person anymore. he could be anything. i tell loud jokes to the tv and make a fan at the other end of the bar. the night skips on in stops and starts. some moments i'm fine, i'm glorious, and others i'm staring into the ash tray, begging my friend, "please talk to me, just say anything" trying not to fall into the abyss i'm dancing the edge of. staying is dangerous territory. when the night is near done, me and my bud are counting our quarters and trying to remember how many beers we had, when the bartender says "oh don't worry about it." we don't know what to do but stare at him. what do you mean? "oh DUDE just paid for your beers, don't worry about it." i don't know what to say or where to look. my friend starts to try to argue but i think i must've told them not to worry about it bc i didn't want to draw more attention to ourselves. i'm just blank, gone. i can still feel DUDE in the room. i know i'm being weird. to leave would mean walking right past him. plus i'm still finishing this beer. it feels like forever, we're all just sitting at the bar in silence. some part of my brain is telling me, "just smile, just say thank you" to cut the tension, but i know that would be a lie and i resist the urge to "make things nice." finally finally finally his date comes out of the bathroom and they leave. IMMEDIATELY the bartender asks "what was that?!?" like we've done something wrong. this is a hard question. i'm still shaken up. i start about how i don't know him now but many people had issues in the past, and i'm interrupted. "you know, the way i see it, if it's been over a year, unless it's rape or murder, there's no reason to be upset anymore." i'm turned into a blustering fool trying to validate my reasons. i reiterate that i don't know what dude is doing now and maybe he's way cool BUT he has violated the consent of many women i know, myself included, and never taken accountability for it. the bartender keeps pushing me to be specific, tell him more because it's "his bar" and he has to "keep people safe" and therefore i "have to tell" him what happened. this is a lot. this is so much. each time i start a sentence, he interrupts me. i tell him i'm speaking slowly because this is hard but he keeps interrupting me, "just tell me!" and i finally crack. i can't take it. i am present enough to say something like "i really shouldn't have to say this but apparently you won't believe me unless i tell you that i was recently diagnosed with PTSD bc of shit he did to me even though i've told you he hurt me and my friends in the past and no i don't know what he's about now so i'm not saying you need to kick him out of the bar forever, so i don't know what more you need to know." and i get some response like "see that's all i was asking for" like it was so easy and i only made it harder on myself. it gets pretty fuzzy. i feel like hell. i get home and keep drinking not to think. i feel like i can't ever go back there. i am afraid to go out at all anymore, either bc i will run into the DUDE and also bc it feels like people are so unsupportive of survivors. blahhhh. do yall have suggestions for how you handle these kinds of encounters and feelings?