august 18, 2001
back wall : 118 inches
on occasion i find myself wondering : what is the impetus for others to perform fairly simple, accepted, actions -- like enjoying television reruns or procreating or applying for a car loan -- which seem monumentally ludicrous to me? in a restaurant this evening, i eyed the aided movements of a pixie, performing a tiny jig for her table mates with the help of her mother's hands, shoved, disingenuously, up her shirt. the pixie's nose was delectably buttoned, and, when a few minutes later her mother stood up and crossed the room, proved to be utterly identical to that of her producer. the demeanor of the mother, eyebrows lifted in pleasure and enjoyment as her table mates flitted with laughter and juts of joy, made me think, "she likes having her magnum opus on display."
while i dined on halibut smothered in orange sauce atop coconut rice (utterly spoiling), i found myself thinking that i always feel like i'm about to explode, on the verge of the fucking wretched wide-open licking/sucking up of dullness, converting to color, spice, memorability. i tease myself by entertaining the idea that it's just too fucking easy to genetically produce a work of art; i ascribe, therefore, to the notion that it is of much more respect to grab a blank piece of medium and sculpt it, completely in control, into the warped representation of whatever desired fraction of my persona i feel like displaying in that one portion of a moment.
it's like pondering intelligence : truly, that which we deem, in anthropocentric geogrometry, as possessing adequate smarts -- possibly enough to engage in the banter we feel most usefully suited to truly aware entities -- the delicious moment that the id we are encountering genuinely surprises us. we respect the unexpected -- if it disproves our snap judgment, we will be eternally impressed.
or, perhaps, it's just the utter pleasure in discovering something that surprises us as much, or more, as our own thoughts/feelings do.
can we cultivate something essentially separate to achieve an agony & assertion rich & deserving enough to represent the chaotic, humiliating, even dastardly, experience of being alive? or must we entrust such a creation to the messy science-cum-passion that stains our brief expressions of complete attention?
were it a mere riddle, i'd hardly bother myself with it -- but since it engulfs me, i must ponder it semi-diligently. i definitely fear the thought of its resolution.
i'm about to leave. i keep thinking of measurements.
august 14, 2001
sucking in rhythm/sorrow
usually as graceful as smoke, last night miss lu found herself surprised out of sleep one too many times by the prying eyes of some mysterious somethings. her new perch, in the window above my bed, places her behind an optimal quarter inch of glass, through which she can observe all the goings-on in the yard at ground level. i think i've alluded before to the lynchian properties such living imparts upon the psyche. lu is no exception.
each disturbance was accompanied by fierce, almost enraged, breathing and a couple of well-anointed guttural howls edged with gravel. i was driven from dreams as quickly as i had arrived, and before i figured out what was going on, sending me into the next nocturnal mission with the lingering feeling of having been somewhere completely different, only quite recently, and without memory. this must be what people abducted by aliens feel like.
and to think i just thought it was a raccoon outside my window. silly me.
i don't feel any different. but i suppose that's all part of the charm.
after a week's closure, my lovely swimming pool is welcoming noontime visitors again! que alegria! the first glide was delicious, i'm nearly dampening all over at the thought of it. the water was peculiarly cloudy, giving the impression of half-formed jell-o, and felt as slippery as crisco on the belly. i love the world under the surface, it's so silent and nonjudgmental -- accepting of even my sloppiest strokes. helped work the kinks out.
today was a decompression. i was assured by good ol' juxtaposition jason that i am, in fact, not high-maintenance. not sure if i'm in complete agreement, i wouldn't mind being more truly independent.
the impending move is beginning to infect, and darling nikki has offered to assist me in the premature post-mortem of the ragged shards of my life -- all the shit i have piled away that must be sorted through & trashed/given away. should be amusing.
i saw a gent on the bus this evening that reminded me of a tepid flame i courted back in my first stint living in the city. tepid because he had only a passing, platonic interest -- but he was great fun to make pasta with. the sighting incited wonder to his whereabouts -- and then so many more. even brief moments of connection -- a glance, raised eyebrow, brushed shoulder while passing by -- where are they all? are they happy? do they ever run into someone who reminds them of me and wonder the same of my trudging? ah, the ever-present obsession with the desire for omnipotence. on my christmas list : a completely detailed map of history, documenting even the tiniest of dull moments, encompassing every single being having existed on this planet -- with all the naughty parts, of course. santa, please?
okay -- so i'm sad. i was so looking forward to stripping down to the essentials with someone. and not just anyone, that would be too easy. it's ripping it apart for someone who's worth it that's the hard part.
august 13, 2001
irregular sphere
it hits me like a ton of bricks : this most recent delusion of amour. i could swear i've never been this hopeful, but, of course, i have. i have always ran out onto the gang plank -- and when that evil captain hook (with his soiled, sweaty minions) orders me to dip my toe in the great blue ocean (arms & legs tied in chafing canvas) i shriek in disbelief, not able to grasp that yes, i have walked into this watery death -- again. even more, i've pathetically begged for it.
sugar, not everything always works out the way we want.
i know this. believe me. do you think someone this demanding and expectant has never met disappointment? hardly. i wear disappointment as my second perfume, and i sing in it. i count it as proof of a life lived.
why am i so fragile? and so keen on discovering wonderful?
august 12, 2001
did i mention that i'm thinking of moving out of this fine house? into smaller quarters, help simplify my world a bit. i've expanded to seriously dangerous levels of collection over the past four years, and since i can't seem to keep myself in check, it's time to take drastic measures. it's funny, the primary reasons i'm unsure about the move have to do with actually downsizing my stuff and whether or not i'll be able to handle living with others again after so many years of solitude. yet these are the reasons i think i should have a change of pace, get more relaxed. on the realistic side, it would help me significantly to get closer to certain goals if i wasn't forking out $800 month in living expenses.
on the romanticism front, i'm hitting the brick wall of my desire. i guess i've never thought of myself as high-maintenance, but maybe i am. it's funny, when two people say the same thing and it turns out to have totally different meanings. i thought i was ready for something, but it turns out maybe i'm the one who isn't ready -- not for the same old, same old, at any rate. i want something more, and i guess i should have been more straight forward about that. fucking life & her twisty turns. it's great fun to dive into it and have a swim around, get messy, find myself locked under the glare of the sun without glasses on. but it never develops the way i'd hope. i'm certainly not giving up, but i did (again) get ahead of myself. i need to learn how to keep myself in check.
common theme.
it's a strange cocktail that fuels my life : a mixture of nihilism and humor -- pages ripped out of comic books and glued into philosophical digests. juxtaposition stains everything i do, or try to do.....i can't help my fervor for intimacy and living open wide simultaneously. time bandits. when it comes down to it, i am really just looking for someone who is willing to jump on the train of adventure and blow everything up with me. there has to be someone out there that identifies how ridiculous all the serious is?
ahead of the downturn (or so i think) this time i'm going to accept the imposed-distance in this most recent intimacy-endeavor and step aside. it's not too late to preserve the basic tenets of a burgeoning friendship. most definitely, i do not want anything to sour and prevent future camaraderie.
ah, hi-jinx. don't i wish everything could just settle up, settle in, and shine brighter than i've ever imagined.
august 7, 2001
"so, will we die of shock?"
*pop!*
i had thought that i preferred the slow wax. recent events have transpired, however, that have changed this perception of myself completely. turns out i actually like residing in the belly of the beast, finger poised on the button as the clock ticks ticks ticks .... confidence rising, endorphins calling on all cells, atoms, follicles to stand on end, poised at attention. perhaps i have found such environments almost debilitating in the past because i just wasn't ready for them, and i didn't feel i had the correct ammunition to blow it apart whenever i decided it was time to say, "when."
not that this time do i know, definitively, that i have shit under control -- but that's part of the excitement. perhaps it's exhaustion speaking, but the phrase, "and the bells keep ringing" keeps running through my head.
i know that this is due, in part, to my recent recollection, in the deepest parts of my soul, of what my focus in life should be -- what i need it to be -- that allows me to function with considerable grace under pressure and.....dare i say it?....actual giddiness to begin tackling this relatively tiny monster. chess board extrapolation, i feel tantalized with the prospect.
ah, yes, and i am in the preliminary processes of simplification. this includes moving digs -- i'm just getting too sedentary and i'd like to pay less rent. i'm also reorganizing my financial situation on the whole and selling unnecessary bullshit. it feels good to be involved in this lifecleaning.
what struck me so deeply the other evening, watching ms. smith fuck it up, was that this woman has principles & she's stuck to them. i respect that, and i realized that i have my own principles that i need to start heeding more closely.
after all, getting credit in the straight world isn't actually that much fun.
august 5, 2001
"it was if someone had spread
butter on all the fine points of the stars
'cause when he looked up they started to slip"
checked out patti smith last night. good goddamn. mind-blowing would be too ridiculously one-dimensional of a phrase to describe the appreciation and inspiration she injects in the psyche. back at the ranch, sr. lovely & i blissed into the night, fingers and toes locked, energy swimming, time as circus contraption -- mixing/reattaching moments of depth and solitude -- hopscotched behind my eyelids (at one moment, i caught the glance of my third eye).
hold on for a moment, while i ride this. taking stock in the life i've crafted, i'm making a mental list of all the items i'm going to visit with the feather duster; that which i will pack up in grocery sacks and drop by the millionaire's club; reorganization& simplification of my space/atmosphere. too much stuff, just weird, random shit, that gets underneath my pack rat's nails and continues to pile up on high.
something has got to break. it doesn't have to be amazing.
no, actually, it does.
august 4, 2001
"whilst outside the bucketing rain poured down pure liquid light"
my hard drive b0rked. i thought i had lost everything, but a helpful hardware hoochie retrieved all of the essentials for me. i've got a brand new o.s., a brand new hard drive, and a brand new lover to keep me busy these days.
truly, i can't believe it. the details are almost as gripping as the fantasies. i look upon this burgeoning relationship as the incredible sculpture i feel each minute i'm tied up in passion's knots. it's simply wonderful to be treated well by someone who wants to be around me.
it's funny, the paths we choose. so much of my time, i have spent in an almost legal fashion, attempting to convince the object of my affections that i was worthy of their return emotion. to no avail, of course. it is humorous to me, the number of failed romances that have resulted in admissions of apology and chagrin years later. a friend says it's not that i chose the wrong people, i just have a habit of choosing people who aren't ready.
so i wonder, is this ready? i have never had the opportunity to truly open myself up to someone, and feel that reciprocity of openness -- especially in terms of emotional rescue. over the years, i have endeavored to become a woman that would be a gift to her lovers, none of this jealous immaturity or fear of flying that has stained history -- and i wonder, am i there yet?
sometimes i feel i am. strengthening bonds and cuddled complicity are slowly developing into a real taste for getting inside my lover's head and listening intently as the syllables flow -- to pay attention and note the unfolding details of his life -- make use of my ease with forgiveness and, above all, communicate.
it's all so wonderfully frightening! as with everything, there are no guarantees, and the risks of love this time around are as bittersweet as they've always been -- if not more, for i have far more faith in this than any other romantic development in my life. but i'm not quite certain that he presently feels the longevity i do when we're making love or walking down the street and our fingers brush together. the complex connection that masquerades as simplicity, drives my hormones into a frothing frenzy, kicking my solipsism out the door with no forwarding address. never before have i felt so singularly and completely desired, and returned the favor -- from heated fucking to the glints of interest in the eyes when speaking.
i endeavor to intrinsically treasure him and not, even for a moment, take him for granted. to never underestimate, dismiss, or devalue his path in life. simple words, heavy promises -- made far in advance to myself (to give me some time to practice before i mention them to him!)
would that i could exorcise all my flaws with a glance, for not once do i want him to feel the strain of the weight of my inadequacy.