Sunday, July 31, 2016
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
in slow motion
no one's said that thing to me in awhile. that thing that turns the world on its head. i had it in the car but i left it when i walked into a Starbucks.
The fucking espresso/toaster exhaust in a Starbucks. No one talks about how it's poisoning us. The lack of ventilation.
The fucking espresso/toaster exhaust in a Starbucks. No one talks about how it's poisoning us. The lack of ventilation.
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
zuma beach
my friend. he was this beautiful tan blonde blue eyed surfer kid. he knew how to be a teenager better than anyone i'd ever met. he would tell me how to do things to get by as a person in ways before i even knew those things were things. and he looked too long in people's eyes. he stared intently and didn't let up.
as though he was trying to solve a riddle.
i saw him not too long ago all grown up, and he had the look of someone who still hadn't figured it out, the riddle. perhaps it was now even a question that he could no longer even hold or ponder.
she, this girl. i liked her. shit, everyone did. she liked him. she liked him cuz he was the strongest boy in town. and she wanted to create her finest work of terror through his strength.
i remember how she tortured him. and he came off like an asshole to everyone else. and he probably was.
and i loved him. and for a long while as an adult i would dream about him. about how he taught me all these strange little things to get by as a person that he'd barely care to know that i still think about to this day.
as though he was trying to solve a riddle.
i saw him not too long ago all grown up, and he had the look of someone who still hadn't figured it out, the riddle. perhaps it was now even a question that he could no longer even hold or ponder.
she, this girl. i liked her. shit, everyone did. she liked him. she liked him cuz he was the strongest boy in town. and she wanted to create her finest work of terror through his strength.
i remember how she tortured him. and he came off like an asshole to everyone else. and he probably was.
and i loved him. and for a long while as an adult i would dream about him. about how he taught me all these strange little things to get by as a person that he'd barely care to know that i still think about to this day.
Thursday, July 14, 2016
rebekka first
she would tell me about a property she owned in nicaragua and how u could build a home in a hole in the earth. how you could scoop out a hole in the earth. that they do that all over the world these days.
it always felt cool, the thought of living in a hole in the earth.
she said she wanted to create a property that was an incubator of ideas, inventions, solutions. i invited myself.
she would go into something like a seizure when she would orgasm. it was frightening the first time. gratifying all the times after the first. i made her bite down on an apple once. she shook harder.
she called me one day months after she had ended it but before she had left for the second time. She told me that sex wasn't the problem, that it was quite the opposite.
how she ended it that one day in her room, crying.
how easily i'd let her go.
i had picked her up while a this american life piece was playing about an endearing teenage boy in love with an undercover cop. and the way i was with her, it resembled nothing of that boy's love.
and we both knew it.
two sensitive people in the world. cruel but sensitive. to feel on such a level that a body can shake and jerk and eyes roll back in pleasure, imagine what pain could do.
it's not supposed to feel like this. i know, i said. you never reached out to me after my dad got sick. i know, she said. i didn't want to be that person for you. i know, i said. two days before we found out about my dad, i had told her i didn't want to be that person for her while she was gone the first time. then she was the first i told and she didn't want my tears. we were both honest and wrong and right.
she called me after that first time on her way home, she was in new york for a week first. she said she was broke. she said a guy she was staying with had hit on her. i didn't tell her i missed her. or i don't remember if i did.
she was hit by a car on her bicycle the day we re-met months later. she had fallen off her bike and broken her arm a couple months before we'd first met months before. when i found her, she was distraught. it was on lincoln blvd near a car wash. she was crying. when i went to hug her, she pushed me away. later that night we kissed outside of a bad thai restaurant on lincoln blvd. it was warm like it was. she slept in my bed that night and i remember asking if she was in love with someone else. she said she wasn't.
i drove her to work. we weren't sweet like the last time. when we'd eat bagels. we weren't sweet like those first weeks when we'd eat bagels. we bought groceries for dinner one night. she was upset i didn't offer to cook it with her. i was upset she thought a guest should. two sensitive people shivering atop her mattress on the floor. it was freezing. i wanted to leave. she insisted i sleep over. sex was better than it should have been, even the way we'd taught ourselves to feel nothing for the other one.
the way she hardly wanted to kiss me the second time. like how our lips were loaded with too many of the things we'd never say, like fruit unpicked, withering on their vines.
then she ended things. after the radio. i remember her crying. i remember walking to my car and seeing a park full of people and purple sky.
months went by. she called me a day before she left and we met. she said i looked happier. we finally got her the right slice of pie, not vegan. i had one bite, my face flushed. i had not eaten sugar in the months since my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. she told me about a man she loved, truly loved. i told her about a woman. we were telling each other about ourselves. we were building metaphors to say what we never would say to each other. she told me about berlin and how much she loved it. she was obsessed with the internet, the threads and seams behind it. the interactivity. the design. we talked all about love. we walked down to the beach, the same one we'd been so many months before hand in hand. we had taken a picture on the pier together that she had never sent me. now it was another golden hour. and we were on the same beach again. the one just below where she had playfully flashed me her panties while leaning against a chain link fence up on main street. the same beach again.
the same beach where talia once told me that it's all beautiful, sitting together in my loyal junky car, she told me it's all beautiful even when people create something that says it isn't, that they know it's all beautiful.
she used an andy gump cuz she was on her period. she told me she was on her period. i felt stupid and felt like asking if she had to take her tampon out to pee. she told me i had to visit her in stockholm. she insisted. i emailed her once months later. she didn't reply.
now that everything had been said in metaphor, i think she was surprised i didn't try to kiss her that afternoon.
i couldn't. i didn't want to kiss anyone at that point in time. i was scared and frightened and terrified of life of death of men of women of god of everything. I was shaken and raw and split apart and my body was strong.
i was an absolute wreck and i had the immense strength to hardly comprehend it.
it always felt cool, the thought of living in a hole in the earth.
she said she wanted to create a property that was an incubator of ideas, inventions, solutions. i invited myself.
she would go into something like a seizure when she would orgasm. it was frightening the first time. gratifying all the times after the first. i made her bite down on an apple once. she shook harder.
she called me one day months after she had ended it but before she had left for the second time. She told me that sex wasn't the problem, that it was quite the opposite.
how she ended it that one day in her room, crying.
how easily i'd let her go.
i had picked her up while a this american life piece was playing about an endearing teenage boy in love with an undercover cop. and the way i was with her, it resembled nothing of that boy's love.
and we both knew it.
two sensitive people in the world. cruel but sensitive. to feel on such a level that a body can shake and jerk and eyes roll back in pleasure, imagine what pain could do.
it's not supposed to feel like this. i know, i said. you never reached out to me after my dad got sick. i know, she said. i didn't want to be that person for you. i know, i said. two days before we found out about my dad, i had told her i didn't want to be that person for her while she was gone the first time. then she was the first i told and she didn't want my tears. we were both honest and wrong and right.
she called me after that first time on her way home, she was in new york for a week first. she said she was broke. she said a guy she was staying with had hit on her. i didn't tell her i missed her. or i don't remember if i did.
she was hit by a car on her bicycle the day we re-met months later. she had fallen off her bike and broken her arm a couple months before we'd first met months before. when i found her, she was distraught. it was on lincoln blvd near a car wash. she was crying. when i went to hug her, she pushed me away. later that night we kissed outside of a bad thai restaurant on lincoln blvd. it was warm like it was. she slept in my bed that night and i remember asking if she was in love with someone else. she said she wasn't.
i drove her to work. we weren't sweet like the last time. when we'd eat bagels. we weren't sweet like those first weeks when we'd eat bagels. we bought groceries for dinner one night. she was upset i didn't offer to cook it with her. i was upset she thought a guest should. two sensitive people shivering atop her mattress on the floor. it was freezing. i wanted to leave. she insisted i sleep over. sex was better than it should have been, even the way we'd taught ourselves to feel nothing for the other one.
the way she hardly wanted to kiss me the second time. like how our lips were loaded with too many of the things we'd never say, like fruit unpicked, withering on their vines.
then she ended things. after the radio. i remember her crying. i remember walking to my car and seeing a park full of people and purple sky.
months went by. she called me a day before she left and we met. she said i looked happier. we finally got her the right slice of pie, not vegan. i had one bite, my face flushed. i had not eaten sugar in the months since my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. she told me about a man she loved, truly loved. i told her about a woman. we were telling each other about ourselves. we were building metaphors to say what we never would say to each other. she told me about berlin and how much she loved it. she was obsessed with the internet, the threads and seams behind it. the interactivity. the design. we talked all about love. we walked down to the beach, the same one we'd been so many months before hand in hand. we had taken a picture on the pier together that she had never sent me. now it was another golden hour. and we were on the same beach again. the one just below where she had playfully flashed me her panties while leaning against a chain link fence up on main street. the same beach again.
the same beach where talia once told me that it's all beautiful, sitting together in my loyal junky car, she told me it's all beautiful even when people create something that says it isn't, that they know it's all beautiful.
she used an andy gump cuz she was on her period. she told me she was on her period. i felt stupid and felt like asking if she had to take her tampon out to pee. she told me i had to visit her in stockholm. she insisted. i emailed her once months later. she didn't reply.
now that everything had been said in metaphor, i think she was surprised i didn't try to kiss her that afternoon.
i couldn't. i didn't want to kiss anyone at that point in time. i was scared and frightened and terrified of life of death of men of women of god of everything. I was shaken and raw and split apart and my body was strong.
i was an absolute wreck and i had the immense strength to hardly comprehend it.
Monday, July 11, 2016
mtmd1021
how you'd point out directions to us on streets we'd driven hundreds of times. how you'd paint only one wall in each room as an artistic choice. how you'd collect bed bath and beyond coupons. i even miss all the ways i never understood you.
i once learned the spiritual definition of a dragon
i'm supposed to get news today. but i wont. maybe i will.
her shoelaces are untied on both of her white shoes. she wears yellow black pinstriped overalls. reads a book. if she isn't looking at me at least it's a book, the sad quiet narcissist in me thinks.
a need for attention.
what are you reading?
it's a book about a poem. a wondering about our days. a cry into the nights. oh those damn nights.
tomorrow morning i will wake up and go do my laundry and then try to forget about her again
her shoelaces are untied on both of her white shoes. she wears yellow black pinstriped overalls. reads a book. if she isn't looking at me at least it's a book, the sad quiet narcissist in me thinks.
a need for attention.
what are you reading?
it's a book about a poem. a wondering about our days. a cry into the nights. oh those damn nights.
tomorrow morning i will wake up and go do my laundry and then try to forget about her again
Friday, July 8, 2016
the blues radio station on the internet
mama how do i fight the devil no -- wait --- scratch that
mama
how do i fight -- like --- the devil
mama cuz mama
do u remember how the devil worked hisself through u and u took his spear thing and u ran with it on fire in ur hands
mama cuz mama
how did u fight so much of the devil
it must've made u crazy no -- wait -- i know that it did but -- it must've been the hardest thing in the world mama
to fight the devil like u did until u had to wield his tool until u found cold water
mama
ur brave mama
now i go
mama i go
searchin for the devil in all the ones i want to find
and not like the sinners mama
u know that's all hogwash
sinning
haha
no
like the ones possessed with an on fire spear in their hands and in their brains and in their hearts and between their legs and the fire is so much truthful when u get used to it for the moment u can
before it sets u on fire
how do i fight it mama
i mean
like it
mama
how do i fight -- like --- the devil
mama cuz mama
do u remember how the devil worked hisself through u and u took his spear thing and u ran with it on fire in ur hands
mama cuz mama
how did u fight so much of the devil
it must've made u crazy no -- wait -- i know that it did but -- it must've been the hardest thing in the world mama
to fight the devil like u did until u had to wield his tool until u found cold water
mama
ur brave mama
now i go
mama i go
searchin for the devil in all the ones i want to find
and not like the sinners mama
u know that's all hogwash
sinning
haha
no
like the ones possessed with an on fire spear in their hands and in their brains and in their hearts and between their legs and the fire is so much truthful when u get used to it for the moment u can
before it sets u on fire
how do i fight it mama
i mean
like it
blue earbuds
nature is god's tongue. i read that once in the autobiographical papers of martin luther king jr. so this morning i went hiking.
fuck nature. i said as i started walking. and smiled to myself. i do that. we do that. smile to ourselves. bounce a tennis ball and grip it. grip it for my grip strength. nothing crumbling on the trails quite like racist cops, broken systems, internet wormholes.
blood in a car seat. blood outside a liquor store. it's ok mommy. don't cry.
just soil and earth and early morning summer coastal fog.
but back to tongues. back to hearts beating in wombs. my old friend luke, i saw again for lunch on his way to go make documentaries in broken parts of his native brazil. i asked him what the sex of his baby was going to be. he said it has a scrotum and balls.
but i'm a boy.
no ur not
oh. i guess i'm not anymore. but but but
we had an attic. it had one of those fold down ladders. her and i lived beneath it together. i lugged a flatscreen tv and cable up there and books. hers and mine. it's the saddest part to see go, when the two of you go. the way both of your books split apart again.
i said love is a can of shit.
and i didn't believe it for two seconds
natural music
by robinson jeffers (again)
The old voice of the ocean, the bird-chatter of little rivers,
(Winter has given them gold for silver
To stain their water and bladed green for brown to line their banks)
From different throats intone one language.
So I believe if we were strong enough to listen without
Divisions of desire and terror
To the storm of the sick nations, the rage of the hunger smitten cities,
Those voices also would be found
Clean as a child's; or like some girl's breathing who dances alone
By the ocean-shore, dreaming of lovers.
fuck nature. i said as i started walking. and smiled to myself. i do that. we do that. smile to ourselves. bounce a tennis ball and grip it. grip it for my grip strength. nothing crumbling on the trails quite like racist cops, broken systems, internet wormholes.
blood in a car seat. blood outside a liquor store. it's ok mommy. don't cry.
just soil and earth and early morning summer coastal fog.
but back to tongues. back to hearts beating in wombs. my old friend luke, i saw again for lunch on his way to go make documentaries in broken parts of his native brazil. i asked him what the sex of his baby was going to be. he said it has a scrotum and balls.
but i'm a boy.
no ur not
oh. i guess i'm not anymore. but but but
we had an attic. it had one of those fold down ladders. her and i lived beneath it together. i lugged a flatscreen tv and cable up there and books. hers and mine. it's the saddest part to see go, when the two of you go. the way both of your books split apart again.
i said love is a can of shit.
and i didn't believe it for two seconds
natural music
by robinson jeffers (again)
The old voice of the ocean, the bird-chatter of little rivers,
(Winter has given them gold for silver
To stain their water and bladed green for brown to line their banks)
From different throats intone one language.
So I believe if we were strong enough to listen without
Divisions of desire and terror
To the storm of the sick nations, the rage of the hunger smitten cities,
Those voices also would be found
Clean as a child's; or like some girl's breathing who dances alone
By the ocean-shore, dreaming of lovers.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
corresponding parts
she tells me to lick my pinky and dip it into her bag. i won't glamorize my meltdown. i won't concede to shadows.
she appears out of nowhere and asks me outside. i sit there and listen. to what. i sit there and listen. there is street noise. there is music. there is the chatter of a multitudinous voice.
what is she telling me. she works as a nanny. i hear radio static. i feel faint.
she appears out of nowhere and asks me to smoke her cigarette and to lick my pinky and dip it into her bag.
she tells me she has a boyfriend. i wander. her eyes pull me in. she says her and her friend are visiting los angeles and san francisco. great city, i tell them.
i have her hand to my chest. i brought it there. as if i'm asking this stranger to feel around for my heart.
she appears out of nowhere and asks me outside. i sit there and listen. to what. i sit there and listen. there is street noise. there is music. there is the chatter of a multitudinous voice.
what is she telling me. she works as a nanny. i hear radio static. i feel faint.
she appears out of nowhere and asks me to smoke her cigarette and to lick my pinky and dip it into her bag.
she tells me she has a boyfriend. i wander. her eyes pull me in. she says her and her friend are visiting los angeles and san francisco. great city, i tell them.
i have her hand to my chest. i brought it there. as if i'm asking this stranger to feel around for my heart.
Saturday, July 2, 2016
pure waters
my mind settled on the pancake rocks. i was sitting at a bar begging my brain for memories and that's what arrived. the pancake rocks in new zealand.
my friend luke and i army crawled beneath a bunch of plants and tangled vines to hike up to them or something. we tried some kind of shortcut or something off a beach
we rode the buses from queenstown to christchurch with the old people.
one of the bus drivers wouldn't stop talking about grisly earthquake deaths and knew intimate details of the families involved, like their names.
and luke and i were young and listening to aa battery powered cd players.
the botanical gardens in christchurch were beautiful. the church next to our hotel was beautiful. there was one of those life size chess sets outside our window in the park. there was a starbucks. we watched a mary kate and ashley olsen movie in our hotel room.
the first half of the trip we were drinking and snowboarding and drinking while snowboarding.
but the second half was dreary beaches. crystal clear rivers. temperate rainforests. dirty little cities. and i don't know if we did much in christchurch. we certainly didn't understand how to go out and be in the nightlife. i didn't fall under the spell of bars until years later i suppose
and i was still a virgin at that point in time
from what i remember
my friend luke and i army crawled beneath a bunch of plants and tangled vines to hike up to them or something. we tried some kind of shortcut or something off a beach
we rode the buses from queenstown to christchurch with the old people.
one of the bus drivers wouldn't stop talking about grisly earthquake deaths and knew intimate details of the families involved, like their names.
and luke and i were young and listening to aa battery powered cd players.
the botanical gardens in christchurch were beautiful. the church next to our hotel was beautiful. there was one of those life size chess sets outside our window in the park. there was a starbucks. we watched a mary kate and ashley olsen movie in our hotel room.
the first half of the trip we were drinking and snowboarding and drinking while snowboarding.
but the second half was dreary beaches. crystal clear rivers. temperate rainforests. dirty little cities. and i don't know if we did much in christchurch. we certainly didn't understand how to go out and be in the nightlife. i didn't fall under the spell of bars until years later i suppose
and i was still a virgin at that point in time
from what i remember
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)