Monday, May 20, 2013

i will go with you to houma
though you have never said my name

Friday, April 12, 2013

Genius House (a list rediscovered from 2013???)

  • goats + cats
  • writing center
  • variety show
  • alternative children's programming
  • lending library
  • yellow light
  • Southern Queer Archives
  • venue
  • art gallery

Thursday, March 14, 2013

dream story

i checked myself into the asylum. i don't remember why. 

you'd be surprised how many names you'd recognize from the roster there. kids from high school, a couple famous artists: one refused to talk about his old work, and the other lived in it. 

the women's ward was a long corridor of open doors, almost felt like a public restroom in that way. our rooms were small little cubbies but i didn't mind that. i didn't bring anything much with me and i don't take up too much space. we all got dressed with the doors open, leaning out into the corridor to gossip and glance. you start to feel almost normal in a place like that. 

my room was at the end of the hall and the girl sam across from me was the sweetest one there. she took me under her wing a bit, looked out for me, and made sure the men steered clear. 

 the days do go by. mom calls, worried sick, but i tell her this is really for the best. i have time to focus now, maybe i'll even write something.

sometimes i forget why we're all here. the danger under the surface. sometimes it's just like being off at school.

so and so displays his drawings, flashes that grin, show off. some of the girls are giddy from swooning, but these aren't my friends so i don't bother with it. i couldn't care less. instead i try to get the other to talk, the poet that was. he's dizzy with anxiety, won't remember, won't forget. i'm sorry to see him in such a state but i secretly promise not to give up on him. i'm sure he has some scribbles up his sleeve.

an outing. a drag race. three drowned, dead in a car in the river. we're all in various states of shock, depending on our remaining faculties. those of us with an appropriate power of empathy (neither hauled off wailing, nor nothing in the eyes) set out to organize a little something to commemorate these tragic young people, "not so unlike ourselves, mister director." we get an evening out.

somehow it's all too much, i have to slip away. find myself at a gazebo by the shore, find myself wanting, needing to flow underneath like the tide, to writhe and curl into the sand and let it out. now i feel it all: belly big with child, how he still hit, how he pricked, the getting it out, the whole thing happening to my body again forever here in this sand. i gave her to the sea. 

they find me with my teeth loose, my clothes gone but for this wrecked slip. the pearl green streaked with blood. sam knows everything, i don't know how long she's been standing there. they carry me off to the theatre, everyone is there, but why are we here when they can't help. i can't go in here like this, clutching bits of my teeth to my chest through the rip in my dress. what will they do with me now that they know?

the hospital upstairs tells us that the dentist is out. i'm still bleeding, clutching, i can't wait. put my teeth back in and make me well, and i'll be on my way. the handsome young man in the butcher's apron claims to know a thing or two about teeth. then he sees who i am with, "say, everything i know, i learned from you! why can't you do it?" she scowls and shows again my mouth, full of metal and blood and broken bones, all exposed. the wires scare him off.

a woman in the basement knows a thing or two. she has her own shop, it's astounding to a group of well-dressed male customers who try to tell her she's selling too cheap. she puts on a wonderful show with a spinning cat that multiplies and tiny pigs that really fly. she just grins at the men, takes their money, and shoos them on their way. she's smiling till they turn their backs. she's tough and terrifying but i like her. sam holds my hand.

she is going to drill out my teeth but somehow i know we'll be alright. 

Friday, March 08, 2013

lessons learned from being sick

  • can't sing
  • can't yell
  • can't make silly voices
  • can't talk back or instantly criticize everything/anything
  • restlessness. as soon as i begin to feel well, i'm ready to hit the streets. this is where the cycle starts.
so there's time to analyze. why am i not doing doing doing.

listening to: molly nilsson -- hey moon

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

you don't even own your own violence

​when i spill a full glass of water across my antique dresser and remember that nothing is mine, or good, i find your clover, dry and intact, until i try to touch it and its leaves disappear, crumble useless in my fingers. ​​
there will be no nonsense.
​how many times i tried to make you feel this. how even now i am slipping, how hard i am missing. i tried pouring it out for you, a silver stream from the cup -- how even then you missed it. not again. how my stomach still sings, toes tingle. it is all glamour, the imagined beauty of it all. ​​
it's been long enough that i can smile when i think of the park, the beach, the wedding. but at the thought of your face, my teeth clench, the truth of it makes the vision go sour.
But you don't even own your own violence
Run away from home-- your beard is still blue

Thursday, February 21, 2013

we all kill butterflies

​No animals were not harmed in the making of this film, or any other. there is not a one we can name, there is not a vegan film.
from the successful slap deaths of mosquitoes on our own sweaty bodies to the crickets we accidentally crushed in the moss, from the birds on skewers that nourished our bodies to the bird in the box that arrived frozen at our door, there was never no harm. ​​

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

nothing like a birthday to remind you to be cooler than your friends

Thursday, January 03, 2013

fragments for the new year

on the shortest day, i rose to greet the dawn, drove east to meet the sun. i had not planned it, but i rose in the pitch dark before morning and drove with nothing in the rearview but black. anything is possible when you're in motion. for the first time, i'm pulled over for speeding but escape with a warning. i'm not sure how to take this sign. which side of luck am i on?

on the day after the shortest day, i woke to the sound of a pig grinding her teeth and pawing at the gate. the world was supposed to have ended but we knew it wouldnt and we passed through unchanged (though we hoped that we and it were all better and new).

on the pizza place patio, i watch a white bristle hair terrier sidestep its owners, who try to corner it back into the fenced yard behind the house. i laugh at the show, their dance, and forget after the shouting stops. an hour later, i'm leaving little rock and in the center of the four lane 430 is a white terrier, dead.

on the day after the day after the shortest day, i have been home less than 24 hours and already, everything has settled exactly as it was. i'm falling into the rut where the house is and i see no way out.

on christmas eve, i'm crying in bed for hours, wondering why i bothered to make it this far. i've already stagnated and my greatest fear comes true. i lay heavy on the curses and make plans never to see my friends again. everything i've ever done is useless.

christmas is the usual pile of books and wrapping paper and everything you'd expect. chocolate coffee. stockings full of soap. fruit and cheese plate. the appropriate fir needle coating over almost everything. why do my cats prefer the tree's water? eventually i force myself out of the house for wine and friends and spin a yarn so long it nearly swallows me. this is the only night i will see them before they shove off for nashville, new york, japan. the small set of hours disappears in an instant and i'm shocked to find the outside world turning white, soft snow floating in the air. sometimes the earth will glitter and the bed will be warm and not too big for you and your cats.

on the day after christmas, i wake up puking. this seems unfair since i really didn't overdo it and played it safe with fruit, cheese, and only a little wine. they will always trip me: every time i find some good, it goes. any time i think i'm finding footing, it slips.

on the day after the day after christmas, it's time to go again. my mama and i trade off for the drive to her parents' in south georgia, and we don't even have to talk with the audio book playing.

these days are a pleasant stretch in the limbo of family. we busy ourselves with the business of being agreeable and intervening when the grandparents try to do anything beyond their chairs. we challenge the cousins in scores of smart phone games; we watch most of 3/8 of the harry potter films; we just barely drink to excess but generally we contain ourselves.

on new year's eve we discover there is no bonfire planned. the female cousins rally our forces to gather every scrap of torn wrapping paper and decently dry pine logs, and we feel proud of the growing burn pile till we get luke's truck stuck in a mud patch where grass becomes field. it's my fault for mentioning the time we ran into this tall grass unsuspecting, and sank from house slippers to pajamas. the fire is not the finest, but our effort is the thing, and i'm glad to drink cider topped with the ash of christmas present turning past. 

on the first day, we are in transit. i can't remember a new year that i didn't greet from the highway, rushing away from and towards the old and new, praying to every dead thing. 
on the first night, i come and curl around myself three times, receiving and giving back, giving back. 

on the day after the first day, i scour and purge, determined to make a temporary space comfortable for perhaps the first time ever. i shock myself by staying up all night here, not unusual but for the words and the recollection of hours lost typing. there is comfort and the dark is more than half done. 

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

break

after hours flailing on the screaming windy highway, the i-10 rest stop is eerily quiet. everyone stands beside their cars smoking, unspeaking. a sign outside the squat brown building warns, WATCH FOR SNAKES. another, LOOK TWICE FOR BIKES, depicts a four-eyed cartoon head, bodiless at the wheel. i barely pee anything; i'm thinking of the narrative of my life and whether i could make it as a any kind of artist, or anything at all. somehow i'm thinking of maine in august last year in lawly's tent where bowen courted and sported us both. how she kissed me with just lips, how his mouth found its way under my shirt, the hot bright orange tent heat, their red and yellow hair. how all i could think was: this must be something that people do. no one asked any questions.

now, a woman interrupts my careful handwashing: "what do they do when it's pouring?" i hadnt even noticed the open sky, blue with thin wisps of white clouds. texas winter is summer hot at 80 and rising. "Yeah!" i agree too loudly in this quiet place and all my jokes fail. in the mirror my face looks back worried, lonely, and pale except for the fierce red bumps covering my chin. at 25 i still look 13, hormones angry and unbalanced after recently quitting nine years of HBC. i have always hated mirrors and today is no different except that i've really fallen now, all dreams dashed down on the brown ceramic tiles in the open air rest stop, ready to be snake bait.

Friday, December 14, 2012

i started driving on the new moon. i wanted to say i left full of duck eggs and stolen goods but no i left empty and opening undone. it's never done, always moving.

Tuesday, December 04, 2012

you never really tried

phew. finally finally finally sent the last email to TM. thank goodness i got that off my chest!

NOW. i am moving back to the south in a week and three days. all this must happen before then:
  • finish color correcting the movie
  • laundry
  • return library books
  • order new glasses
  • renew driver license
  • get car serviced
  • PACK UP EVERYTHING
  • become unaddicted to coffee and smokes
  • last chance photo copies
  • goodbye party
  • record new vocals for the chase song???
  • go camping???
  • cut my hair dammit
  • chill out.... hahaha

listening to: kate bush - the big sky


Friday, November 30, 2012

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

Monday, November 26, 2012

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.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

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

Friday, November 16, 2012

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)

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

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

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

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

Monday, November 05, 2012

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?

Saturday, November 03, 2012

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.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

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.