personal essay, week 2

Frog prince twins sipping gin and snorting Torchy's. Mind meld magic in the grass outside the party. Sick so special man yr movie's really arty.

 We blew by SXSW. Full contrarian status, I refused the widely used abbreviation, "south-by," and ran around shouting for weeks,* "We're going to southbee! southbee!" Big business tech tycoon nightmare carnival took over the whole town. When I lived in Austin, I hated the whole racket -- the traffic, the tourists, the lines, the logos, the litter, the excess. Well of course I still hate it, so even though I was ecstatic that we had been invited, I was determined to fully embody anti-SXSW values whenever possible. I stayed up late making homemade paper business cards. I insisted our crew get matching jean jackets, the Ghost Fleet. 

 We trash talk, we lip lock, we jaywalk for miles. We dumpster, we long fur, we sweet meat and smiles.

 You know, of course, it turned out to be a lot of milling around, as is the case with so many conventions. We ate cole slaw sandwiches inside a massive, empty sound stage while the adults had barbecue. We became festival friends with a woman whose movie, in the “Midnights” category, was about a female necrophile. Before the premiere, we visited the new GOAT YOGA studio in same dang strip mall as the movie theatre. You can't make this shit up.** 

 While the world hurdled ever onward into the lie of neverending capitalist death show, I found myself surrounded by my best friends, my very favorite people, love bugs I've known for decades and buddies I’ve known only briefly, together, sharing visions, feeding on each other's passion, running from the juggernaut and WINNING. Day drunk, sun spilling in, what a ride. Somehow my favorite people, my best loves, all in one place at the same time. The overwhelm - the too muchness of it - the bigness of us made small by the drone. 

a dream of a cult of vampires, or something almost like it.
the kind of dream where me and it are taking turns telling the story, drifting in and out of sleep.
the whole crew silently filed into town overnight and somehow i saw. they seem to not have particular powers, no pointy teeth, only marginally violent, definitely terrifying, dangerous. i'm drawn right to them, or maybe i can't leave. they take over an abandoned building and its all ours.
i should've written it down right away. it's all gone now.
another weird fucking day. back in memphis. tonight dad wants to see star wars.

my former friend has agreed to meet with me when i'm back in austin, with the condition that we don't talk about what went down at the coop.

my long-distance girlfriend is so overwhelmingly pissed about that that she referred to me as her "friend" on twitter but has been dating so many other people she didn't think it was worth it to tell me about them.

my long lost ex best friend/lover has finally written to me something that means something. but I'm too dead to know how to respond.

i'm lost in a sea of online window shopping for xmas gifts, one of my least favorite activities in the whole world, but something i get sucked into every year. when will i be adult enough to say "i'm not fucking doing it" and push a little further out of the consumer cycle?

i'm lost in general and i don't know where i'm going, except that it's in baltimore. 

I don't appreciate being called rude and I don't like being told what to do

dream space

I must've known it was a dreAm because I started writing everything down in the middle, needing to remember.  

four clans. a prophecy of course. 

they had been tracking us for years, they had seen it all and put the pieces together. 

I don't really know why I'm here or what's going on. we're gathering in a huuuuuuge auditorium, hundreds of people. I can't settle on a place to sit bc I'm all alone. I stumble into an area where no one is sitting and realize it must be reserved for the performance. woops. scuttle into a corner and settle in.  and I'm not wrong, there are male acrobats in shiny sequins who spring out somewhere along the way. so extreme and over tr top wow. later I'm fiddling with something (a mouse maybe?) and they see me and call me out. how??

why?? they escort me out or I'm trying to walk somewhere else and get intercepted. they put me on a spaceship with dozens of others. (mostly women?) I'm starting to see differences between the people, between the nations. two are more powerful, bigger, more numbers. one of these is flashy sequin decadence pop and the other is more nationalist harder military but still decadent in a different way. 

how to explain the others???? 

in the bathroom one woman showed me a picture of a harpy, "this is what you will be. this is what I am."

there is a sense of death surrounding them. they would rather kill each other than have the prophecy come to pass. 

and I do feel that I have something of a choice. people are pulling me like something can change. it's not set in stone. 

then she rescues me. I don't remember the details but she finds me in the crowd and smuggles me out to her own ship. at first I'm confused. later I'm in love. these are my people. and we are fugitives. 

later we get separated and I'm supposed to follow her by piloting my own ship which of course I've never done before. it's okay at first but I just

can't get the hang of it fast enough and I lose them. I think I crash and they find me. 

they're still trying to figure out if I am the one they think. they ask all kinds of strange and invasive questions. "did you have the clear coccidia?" and my family. supposedly my seemingly normal mother was a harpy too and could transform at will. And yet they're all being so nice, no one wants to upset me, no one hurts me. they must think I'm powerful. 

I have a mouse friend from somewhere. actually it might be a person in mouse form that I'm watching over. that other hRpy's daughter? she transformed her own child into a mouse to make a point. they would rather die than see the wrong future. 

I'm carrying her everywhere but she gets away from me. I crawl under a huge gate to get outside and find her but it's too late. there's a creature in the bushes crouching down.. I think maybe she's still out there but the creature smacks his jaw open closed one time and I see the tail inside. 

I know she'll find me. I'm writing everything down in orange crayon. I know she'll come back for me. 

why can't I just relax ?

revolution

make more art
consume more art
schedule yourself better

be yr own
girl gang

I can already feel the new year crackling even through the haze of being sick and the pounds of phlegm in my chest and head. it's alive! the year of freedom and bliss, we already called it.

we freed the fish and the fish freed us.

time to reset

just keep forgetting to take your pills.

follow the smell of piss till it's all clean. 

remember who you love, who loves you. 

expect that nothing will come back. 

there is only the cat and the ache in your back. 

hedgehog hugs

today I try to talk to you for some dumb reason (when will I learn?) and it's like talking to a wall. why even bother? but you give me one piece of insight-- "ask me tomorrow when I've had some time to process." "oh hey what did you think about what I said yesterday?" that I can do. 

tonight I snuggled up and why? made suicide jokes and you tell me I'm not allowed to do that. not allowed to die. but you wouldn't miss me for more than a minute, you'll readjust fine, I say. she's giving me looks but not telling, not until we aren't making eye contact and I'm nuzzled to her chest. "I would cry a *lot* and then probably cry randomly for weeks." I joke about how selfish she is, how she'd only be sad for herself since she's lost her only friend.

when she gets up to go take her pills, "oh and if you want proof, that's why I was randomly crying this morning." but why? "because I worry about you." even though I told you I wouldn't talk about it, you still remember. 

and just when I think I've got you pegged, when I've given up, drawn the line, you always get me. the things you actually do remember, what you choose to care about. 

you keep saying we are too different, totally different personality types, just two hedgehogs hurting when they hug. on some level, maybe you're right, but we haven't even be friends for any time at all, we hardly know each other. and if it were only hurt then why are we so soft?

step away from my light, i need shine

always you want me to forget, try to make me. I just want to talk, I have really good ideas. I believe we could write! I believe you have the vision and I have the craft! or maybe the other way around, we'll have to work out the details. but don't you want to see?? why not even try?

and so I should be done after all this. how many times I put it forward.

you are not the whipping girl unless you want to be. I feel you beg for a reaction, the one you've gotten before. I feel like I'm the creep but I know you know the game. so maybe sometimes I tickle too much and go too far. I don't mean any harm. I want the cuddles and the laughs and the silly. yes the vulnerable. and this is all you'll give me- a little bit of soft skin here and there. but it's not your tummy I really want; it's your heart. if I can find the soft parts maybe you will open up and talk to me. but always you leave, or never start.

tomorrow is a new day, as always. but tomorrow I'm moving and really things will change. I've promised Gracie Lou it will be just us two girls, and I meant it. I'm really cutting this out, unless you don't consent it: truth, honor, trust, compassion. I require so little. I have made do with giggle cuddle coffee time but I don't need it anymore. it all hurts too much without the rest.

you don't want me to cook brunch with you, you can't put me to the test.

I'm bigger I'm better I'm more than you will ever know. I have to make it so.

I am not so cruel.

not as you, not as you think.

but maybe as desperate.

yr failure is not what I want but I'm afraid of its certainty. I need you to talk and ACT and get it together before the worst thing happens. I don't want you on the street or worse. you say you don't need this house? you don't need the safety net? I would love for you to fly from here but I don't see how. not now. maybe your debt is invisible to you, maybe that's my fault. if you don't need us then go on. we want only the best.

what do you want, when you do and when you don't?  
is it just a niceness of your debt, to keep afloat?

if you are the whipping girl, then maybe I'm at fault. 
you joke and pose so pretty: your sugar makes me salt.

you juggle up to jester, and want rounds for the fall. 
you'll never say you dropped one, unless we can recall.

if you are the whipping girl, then what have we done wrong? 
we fell into a dance you threw and got lost in its song.

I know you want attention, kitty, just let me pet your throat. 
be calm and still and open up, and sing before you choke.

if you are the whipping girl, then I've confused the past. 
tell me what it said to you and make the new one last.

after nights when I give up, you call me in the morning: 
meow. meow. meow. the constant caterwauling.

is that your glass heart clinking?

if I tend to write only when I'm alone, then I'm never gonna write anything again living in this damn co-op. sometimes in the shower or in the car, I have ideas, but there's so much jumbled into my head immediately stepping out of those places and into this confusion called my home. generally I really like living here, the hustle and bustle, interacting with so many different people on a daily basis, priding myself on figuring out these puzzles, these people, and getting them to talk. HA! it's true, I won't deny there's a little bit of skill there. but at the end of the day, who makes me talk? who wants to know my ins and outs, downs and ups, tos and fros? none of these people can read my subtle signals, though a couple can see the larger signs-- when I'm drinking more than enough, when I'm overly critical of something small, when I've been hiding in my room for days. and if and when they see it, it's so easy to run away, don't worry, it's nothing, I'm fine, I'll be in my room with the pillow and the cat. they leave me alone like I want them to. but you know better-- you understand the chase. you know the chase as well as I do. I'm practicing a small pursuit on all these people every day, how can they not understand? but they don't want to work on a puzzle, or find that the end reward is no good thing. I try so hard so often to be easy, kind, generous, considerate, patient, amusing, good. I try too much, I unwind the web so smooth, make it all gentle, and they don't see the handiwork. do you know how I am a new creature for every person? how I will mold to fit and nestle in your comfort zone? is it so well done that no one cares enough to talk when I've hit bottom? but this is not new, even though the place and people are. I insist on distancing myself (and my truth, and my heart, and my hurt) from even my friends, then I'm dead and dumb when they can't connect. did I make it one way? I'm convinced it's that they never ask, never ask right, don't really want to know, rather than that I am a closed door with impossible locks. they think animal rescue is my life's work and that I love cats maybe because they're cute or because I'm so good and selfless or because I'm a future hoarder of more than paper. they don't know that I love cats because I hate myself.

why does the truth always sound so dumb?

listening to: xiu xiu - ale

nap dream

brother cats (r9 litter??) ok my dream

there are kids playing a game that seems like they're taking very seriously. everyone acts upset and weird when they "come back" and the chip they win is the wrong color.  they are actually disaplearing into an alternate world disguise as a tv show when they play ??? they're teying to hint at something but i can't digure it out.

board game and tv. they are playing at the board, they disappear, I'm watching a tv show that is really the game -- it's set up and then their solutions. i dont realize that it's not a game at all, but an urgent quest which is why they take it so seriously.

there's a group or three or four creeper dudes that keep showing up whenever the game is going on, or right near the end. they are talking about a house vote thats gonna happen or some sort of big decision. a type of "learning" or discipline or religion??? that they want to establish in the coop. i make a skeptical or negative comment and they react strangely-- calm and somewhat logical, asking so many questions and calling me a close minded business very nicely. their coldness creeps me out every time.

i am figuring out that something strange is going on but i don't know what or how to fix it. i need to talk to Ian or somebody but where ?? i ask her to come outside and she completely pounces. we start hardcore making out on the ground, shes got my shirt pushed up and were tearing at each other. I've forgotten what I came here to tell her, it's all encompassing and wonderful. suddenly there's laylee telling us that the whole coop can see us and we need to het out of there. i feel like i see the creeper dudes pale faces judging me through the window. when we get inside somehow its too late, I've missed the window to talk and now everyone's here again.

going to the theatre to pick up the kids from their show/game and its raining, they're not there, the parking lot is empty except for one car with the doors open. (or the shell if a car, a double open hooded two seat.) i walk up and find a terrified kitten sitting there on the seat, hissing and spittig and so afraid. i realize its a cat i know, Reginald, and i call him by name, wrap him up and take him home with me. bit he's not acting like himself, and where are his brothers and sisters i took to the show? i being him home and he immediately hides under a bench where another brother, tiny rajan, instantly hisses, and i think they don't recognize each other. slowly somehow the clues (there must've been more clues) come together and i realize this is not the cat i think it is, but some other brother, new, and everyone else is stuck somewhere. he starts to yowl as then actually begins speaking, mentions that rajan had a sore on his  tongue -- that's why he hissed! to show the ulcer that is not truly an ulcer but a scary magic bad thing. The lead creep is showing interest in me and this cat sufdenly and he doesn't know that he shouldn't speak. i grab him up and start walking briskly out the door, talking with him since he doesn't know to stop and this creep wants him for who knows what. i dont know where to go thats safe. i walk into my parents room but they're clumping around leaving on a trip. I'm looking for Ian and calling her nme but i can't find her. panic panic i Abe no idea how I will save the cats and not let the coop kingdom fall.

then the damn dinner bell rings. even after waking up i still have a sense of urgency, of going back to the world, of figuring it out.

Austra concerts -- at least two or three. We meet them outside the stage door in the first. In the second I am confident -- volunteer or improvize? Dancing witching every audience member -- sprinkling magic on their heads.. are they sitting down? It's weirdly calm. Somehow Brian is the most important -- the top of his head is shaved, only in the front, and green dye on the sides. Heavy eyeliner and super magic. We talk and something important happens. Third concert, somehow I miss the end. Do I fall asleep? Am I called outside by something else? All this part of the dream looks dark but feels light, good. Sparkly.

another dream working in the cattery, but there are many people who work with me. someone is missing one day and i wonder what is going on. he is the son of important people. maybe not king and queen but the equivalent? he gets blamed for a wet towel that i know is my fault but i don't say anything and then feel horribly guilty when he is gone the next day. then he comes back, quiet and reserved, having seen more harm than good.
Wendy is the queen.
someone dies or disappears in their dorm/apartment. young, tragic, horrible, a warning. we all have to be more careful.
a movie -- do i actually watch it or just know about it? bizarrre sexual undertones (or overtones) and i'm drawn to it and freaked out at the same time. another stage door area -- a man is standing at the top of the steps in an open doorway and the (hopeful?) cast is crowding around for the meeting. the part of Frog Man is obvious. what am i doing there, though?
mainly i have been an observer up to now, but strange things start happening that indicate i'm being pulled towards center. a man driving by craning to see me, with a picture of my granny taped to his sun visor.
someone gives me a locket? somehow i have a secret locket. it is not easy to open but when i do, i see two faces that are really important. i don't remember why. is one me?
someone teaches me how to get free quarters from the vending machine by putting in bottle caps and then pushing the change return button. i get $8 in quarters and i'm walking away when they all swoop in and whisk me away to a secret meeting in their lair.
wendy is the leader. the others are some people i recognize -- the boy from work at the cattery, and his brother, and some other people who i thought were strangers that have apparently been following me. we are laying out the plan. wendy introduces me as the newest member of the team. later in private, she indicates that the whole team is actually my protection -- they just don't know it yet. i am the target but i don't know why. i show her the locket but the pictures are gone. it doesn't matter -- she knew the faces anyway. she has set the wheels in motion and we're on the way. somehow i feel safer now than i did before i knew i was in danger.
there is some question with the boy from the cattery. he evades directly answering his parents and shuffles around. his brother and i are sitting separately, secret smiles and twinkling eyes. i tell him what i know: he was gone from the cattery right before that girl was killed. of course he's not hte killer but we know he knew her. the brother jumps in to add this information to the slough of accusations, without revealing that i provided this information, and i am grateful. i feel guilty again, but i also feel that somehow i'm helping him -- i want him to be safe.
i'm seeing weird sexual tensions of all kinds. trying to be a matchmaker?

I wake up from this dream a number of times, but I'm able to ease back in. I sleep until 1 in the afternoon because I don't want it to end. In writing it looks like a stressful dream, but the having it was really beautiful and calm. Everything felt right somehow -- everything was going in the right direction, I was on the right path. The last time I go back to sleep I think I'm still half awake and maybe making up some of the story, rather than genuinely dreaming it all. But that felt great too and the worst part was waking up and not being able to remember it all. This dream would be a really wonderful story if it weren't now full of holes. I wish I could imagine these sorts of things while I'm awake. I want to write it all.

a note under a door

we are not easy, but sometimes it feels that way.
i, especially, am a great pretender.
sam thanked me for my warmth and kindess but
russ saw the demon in my right eye, the beast
let loose by the queer bomb. now there's no
looking back. i wanted to crack each shell so
slowly that its inhabitant would hardly notice
till they found themselves blinking at the sun.
i wanted to draw each one out, and in turn, be
drawn out myself. it's not easy; i am not what
i seem. sometimes i have let too much loose
without being asked, without coaxing and without
protection. how much i want to be the little
new chick in the spring sun. but instead, just
the worm. it's hard to remember to stay under
ground. i don't want to hurt, but do, and have
done. and so i remember, and so i can't stay,
but you'll see i leave a line open, just in case,
for the brave. sometimes it will be easy, and
sometimes it will not. sometimes it only gets
worse. but if i wait here, on the surface, i
will get burned, a sidewalk worm. it would be
easy. maybe i'll fry.
on the other hand, there is this egg with a cool
hard shell. (inside, there is a light and a warmth,
i know.) i would love to be there when you
hatch, but the worm does not want to be 
the swan's first meal, but can see no other way,
not from the surface. and so here is this line,
these lines, and that's it. forget, or do as
you see fit. we can't do it for you.

it's not your fault no one loves you

there are spiders in your bed.

NO ONE likes a depressive, despite what they tell you.  no one wants to hear about your trouble feelings, so don't say anything. you can write it down and talk to the cat. no one wants to hear how you cried when you dropped the syringes, cried doing laundry, cried for no reason except: this is the true you, wading through the sick sludge of sadness, unable to laugh or eat, cannot pretend. the fine line between the pill and the promise, the place where you will find your ultimate self and death.
retreat.
retreat.
retreat.

1. I hate myself.

2. I self destruct with smokes and whisky. 

3. I have a problem with overdoing it. 

4. I get so gone that people are forced to take care of me. 

5. I'm lonely. I forget. 

6. I fall into the pattern of getting carried away. 

7. I hate myself. 

birthday song

you grow older and older and older
you grow older and older and older
but you still don't grow up
you can't act like an adult
you just get older and older

you grow older and older and older
you need the heat the fire and the whiskey
you live in extremes
you need to be on the scene
you just get older and older

the new year requires fire and a kiss, I combined them. the ball of rum roams the room. the heating pad flat to my stomach and the tent honing its call, a bubble of pillows. my first new year away from home. unbelievable, and unremarkable. really actually alone. watch the rum roll. the ball drops on its own.

people only want me for the element of spectacle. I am eager to give and entertain and draw them out but it drains. sometimes I'm not getting anything back.

i need to relax and listen to more groovy music and old boogie and i think that will help. i want to shave half my head and wear a cap and pants. jean jacket style. calm it down but still fun. to entertain and boggle. CAN I BE A CLOWN YET?