It's like a real college or something.

What I like about these crazy days is shaking out the demons (and I don't mean the freshmen) -- too much going on for too much doubt. So they sift down into dreams as I squeeze my eyes shut before the alarm, and as Billy Collins says, hell is listening to other people's dreams, and this week the dreams are a breath, a whisp, a nada.

Shelter sounds

It's 1:01 am, the time I told myself I'd stop, and here I am, stopped for now. I kept going in the quiet corridor because I had to get those letters straight - a twist of calligraphy, a thicker ROCK for emphasis. Tomorrow I'll feel it but tonight I love the bright happy colors, the Rock Star Target dollar specials on the walls, the perfect twists of the w's in "We Will." We will, indeed.

I lift the chair I had to stand on up the stairs, stepping sideways, carrying myself to bed.

one suite down, seven to go

I miss writing. And running. Sleeping. Lauren and Deana because they should be here. (And in case you stalk me, Miss Sarah, I'm in need of some life updates! Your jewelry is lovely!) For every good piece of news comes five annoying pieces. But at least there's the good, you know? I should know better, but in any free moment, I just can't be made to move. Not that way.

I want to teach, want to be in the midst of all this already. I'm excited about this class and I think this is something I can do. Something I will enjoy while the rest of me does its usual five-six-seven dance.

Dom on marrying a woman who already has children: "But then if we had kids, I'd have to love her kids as much as mine, and I'm too lazy for that shit."

I'm really, really glad that your mom is okay right now. I thought about her all day yesterday. Still thinking now.

And for the one who has perfected the field of tweezer surgery: What would I do this crazy week without you?

Friends don't let friends bite strangers.

Before I left home for college, I left Riverside for Spins. I was thirteen. The only thing that could have kept me there were the girls I'd grown attached to in our two years as a team. I don't know how many push-ups, pull-ups, leg lifts, oversplits, press handstands, failed back handsprings, and missed kips we suffered through. Recital dances to Men in Black and sleepovers.

But I had to leave. Because I shouldn't have had to want to throw up from anxiety before and during every practice. There had to be a gym where the coaches pushed me to be the gymnast I could be instead of holding me down to the gymnast they thought I was. And maybe I'd make friends there.

Ten years later on a humid summer night, five of us sweat from hot wings instead of un-air-conditioned gym. We drink beer and Grey Goose instead of water (or with water), wear cute T-shirts instead of leotards, make sure to make fun of boys (maybe that never changed). Between us we've got two associates degrees, a masters in progress, three bachelors, another bachelors in the works and the fifth just begun. An age gap as wide as nine years and as close as four days. Roommates turned besties and roommates turned...lame. New gyms, old gym, and no gym at all.
Yet no matter what we speak of, one can easily say "roundoff" or "Tsuk"' or "spotting fat kids" or "I can't even..." and the rest pick up the rhythm immediately.

I think that's how it is at home. They speak your first language. And perhaps that doesn't happen until two or three or seven homes later when you realize who you are and what you want to say. And that's when the first people listen.

So to elbows bitten and needles used and unused and Meghan's shining start to college and, most certainly, to all of us.

The world we know

It's probably awkward for me to say, "Hey, I read about your dad in the paper, and I'm sorry," but...I read about your dad in the paper. And I'm sorry.

http://www.newsday.com/long-island/suffolk/suspected-drunken-driver-in-fatal-commack-crash-jailed-1.1381139

Seriously. Is it THAT HARD to resist ridiculous amounts of alcohol before you drive? Especially when you KNOW that you're going to drive later? And is it that hard to call a friend, a cab, is it so difficult to stay put for awhile?

How much more is it going to take?

"What are these 'standards' you speak of?"

I think what I've wanted these past few days is my old way -- running away to stop thinking, to maybe still think but laugh too hard to listen. Just for a few hours.

So I did.

And I could have exercised a bit longer, written a bit more, but the rest of me feels realigned.

oh, I remember, don't worry

How could I ever forget?

soft skin

The radio stations aren't coming in so well tonight, and that's quite all right with me.

:-)

I wanna take you for granted

I downloaded several Matchbox Twenty songs, which of course brought me back. A good back, a growing back. Maybe I'll dig more deeply or keep it safely, keep it present.

Either way, I'm reconciling the parts of me.

Apocalypse: Now.

Thesis: arranged, aligned.
Classes: registered.
Syllabus: review begun.
Newsletter: bright lights, bright fonts.
Gymnasts: happy (for now).
Debts: paid.
Novel: nearly 40 pages told.
Laundry put away: lol.

...

I promise:

One day, I will scream! I will scream in the most calm tone, in sweetly modulated syllables, no trace of tear or doubt,

and you will be brought to your knees.

In the words of Uncle Vanya: "You will remember me!"

"Let's play this as bowling AND golf."

In other letters,

You make it real for me.

:-)

drowning deep inside your sound

Two sorts of breaks:

I swim and float and twirl, waiting for thirty minutes to pass. Perhaps I shouldn't make swimming an exercise the way I have with running. Maybe I won't. Either way it feels good to move through chilly water. The right feeling. That this is one of the few activities that has nothing to do with anyone I once knew.

A wave bobs behind me - I dive down - the thought: They're breaking, but I'm not.

On Sunday night (Monday morning?), I drive Beth's car down the highway. Lightning sketches the sky but our music's too loud for thunder. I'm more alert than I am in my car; I see every approaching headlight. I've just picked up the Poppin' Pink Lemonade when brakelights go red ahead of me. I brake, too, and then the water: bullets of rain blinding windshield. Beth takes the cup from my hand. But I only need one hand on the wheel. I know it already: I've got this.

outsourcing harrassment

I'm home right now and things are good. They're well. They're well and good. Good and well? Why not?

I write, submit, laugh with the best. I like quiet time and loud time. Early mornings are not so impossible. August was always our month. But everything beyond August might become impossible, so I slide into blue-gray water under dark gray clouds and swim until the thunder warns me out. Not the ominous thunder. The groaning crack that makes me want to get drenched in rain like ocean.

Does this make sense? Sometimes I feel like two or three different people. Lately, an exterior shell that speaks professionally and offers answers with a bright smile. Next, the self who says all sorts of silly things, and finally, the one who feels quite distant from all of this.

But all fall away in the water. Treading, splashing. Feeling chilly depths on feet. I laugh and kick them away. Swimming. Looking. Being.

angels would fall

Standing in soft Sound in darkness. Hushed water on rocks. Light glowing as brightly as full moon. One star falls.

All is right.

..

Gianna, age 10: "My mom says I remind her of the girl from The Orphan. You know, the devil one?"

buzz words:

This is the sort of language you have to speak here.

-resonate
-connect
-actor muscle
-arc
-organic
-sensibility
-turn
-hinge
-set-up
-premise line
-line break
-act break
-pinch point
-four plots
-A, B, and C stories
-male orgasm play
-"I'm a little confused by..."/"I was a little unclear on..."
-"Maybe..."
-"Maybe..."
-Maybe...
-Why haven't the scholarships shown up on SOLAR?
-How does this late fee go away?
-When are we supposed to register?
-What are we supposed to register for?
-When are we supposed to graduate?
-What time are we going to the Tide?

come on, get higher

Today is the day for acceptance, for publishing. For delicious plays and obscure allergies. For pizza and thunderclouds. Mucus and middle school memories. The perfect shade of salmon-mango nail polish. For us.