than what I imagine in the dark corners I cannot see, but you know what?
Rain strokes my feet and the music I drive to is mine, just mine. Orange lights in night puddles and softness in the chill. "I miss you!" she exclaims and my goodness, I miss you too!
And you should know that I've made this world, and I am all right.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
2.27 and 57 degrees?
The worst of winter has whispered away and my eyes are still up, my humanity's in tact, what's next what's next?
And whatever follows, well -- it will be handled in hot skin crashing into ocean and fizzling in rocking cold waves, the ones that sing without words until you hear nothing else.
And whatever follows, well -- it will be handled in hot skin crashing into ocean and fizzling in rocking cold waves, the ones that sing without words until you hear nothing else.
"It was like trying to borrow a dollar, getting turned down, and asking for 50 grand instead."
Thank you, High Fidelity, for making my life make sense!!
--
I feel both wrong and right.
--
I feel both wrong and right.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
the right way
It's strange to trust myself but I am wired at 3 am because I am right.
Dark curves and white lights. I don't need drink or drug but damn, I'll take chocolate. Can we be ourselves in loose clothes and quick lips? I hope so. We play them best.
And I think I'm more myself here than I was much of the time elsewhere: silly and sassy with a leg up on the couch and a hand coloring, talking crying laughing at 3, 4, 5am, face stoic and voice stern with lines crossed, the writer the runner the gymnast the girl. Yet so much beyond the girl. Twenty-three and I feel it without fear. I'm this tall forever and I like it down here, my mind dances high enough for both of us.
You're the only one I really sing with. We don't know where to go but we sing the same words. I think I just wanted human contact, I say, and you laugh because you know. I tell you my plans because I'm finally excited--I'm happy now and what says I won't be then?
"I think you're going the right way!" you say.
I think so too.
Dark curves and white lights. I don't need drink or drug but damn, I'll take chocolate. Can we be ourselves in loose clothes and quick lips? I hope so. We play them best.
And I think I'm more myself here than I was much of the time elsewhere: silly and sassy with a leg up on the couch and a hand coloring, talking crying laughing at 3, 4, 5am, face stoic and voice stern with lines crossed, the writer the runner the gymnast the girl. Yet so much beyond the girl. Twenty-three and I feel it without fear. I'm this tall forever and I like it down here, my mind dances high enough for both of us.
You're the only one I really sing with. We don't know where to go but we sing the same words. I think I just wanted human contact, I say, and you laugh because you know. I tell you my plans because I'm finally excited--I'm happy now and what says I won't be then?
"I think you're going the right way!" you say.
I think so too.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Part Where He Tells Her He Needs to Go Find Himself
Gotta love dreams!:
He's sleeping under the blanket in her brother's old room. She crawls in next to him. He wakes up. He says things she doesn't quite understand.
Then he says, "I'm going to Washington, D.C." He looks at her meaningfully.
She imagines him walking off the steps of a plane, suitcase in hand. She knows that look but thinks there must be some logic to it... "Well, are you coming back?" she says.
"Oh, yeah," he says. "But like Bob Dylan says, it feels like going home."
He's sleeping under the blanket in her brother's old room. She crawls in next to him. He wakes up. He says things she doesn't quite understand.
Then he says, "I'm going to Washington, D.C." He looks at her meaningfully.
She imagines him walking off the steps of a plane, suitcase in hand. She knows that look but thinks there must be some logic to it... "Well, are you coming back?" she says.
"Oh, yeah," he says. "But like Bob Dylan says, it feels like going home."
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
another way of walking
I love everything that is beautiful. This humid breeze, these clouds over bay.
I finish. I float.
I have always loved your soul.
Something sings softly now but I can only smile. Someday or never will come to pass.
And yet--yes: I will step outside on windy warm winter's day and feel this way.
I finish. I float.
I have always loved your soul.
Something sings softly now but I can only smile. Someday or never will come to pass.
And yet--yes: I will step outside on windy warm winter's day and feel this way.
Monday, February 09, 2009
city, my mistress
I've been here how many times? but Friday night, I am finally seduced. The night is warm enough to wander and though we never get where we planned, off-beat lights hit rhythm with music and signs and I want more.
Friday, February 06, 2009
6 billion
Rendered obsolete.
Slow death of Cortland winter did not prepare me for winds this sharp and sudden. I squint my eyes against sun on snow and wonder about life in that border city...
Then Deana and Pete are rapping, Caralyn's drawing pictures, and I can't cry because I'm laughing too much. Practicum, BK crowns, spontaneous visits, Anberlin, Coheed, responsible city schemes, Fischer Nabokov and Chekhov...
There are so many right paths. There are so many perfect ways.
Slow death of Cortland winter did not prepare me for winds this sharp and sudden. I squint my eyes against sun on snow and wonder about life in that border city...
Then Deana and Pete are rapping, Caralyn's drawing pictures, and I can't cry because I'm laughing too much. Practicum, BK crowns, spontaneous visits, Anberlin, Coheed, responsible city schemes, Fischer Nabokov and Chekhov...
There are so many right paths. There are so many perfect ways.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
am I just bad luck?
One of my characters wakes up to see a ghost. Another is about to run into the street at precisely the wrong moment. I'm doing quite all right in comparison.
--
I always turn the car around.
And so what if I do? I wore flip-flops today. Sun against my face (what I know and what I feel disagree). I am glad to be this. Me. She.
--
I always turn the car around.
And so what if I do? I wore flip-flops today. Sun against my face (what I know and what I feel disagree). I am glad to be this. Me. She.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
one (and-a-half-ish) month(s) down
February is here. One-and-a-half-ish winter months down. One-and-half-ish to go.
Msn says it's 32 degrees in New York, NY, two hours from here but close enough. I run and think of spring sunshine on bare legs. Wind whips headphones away. But I roll up my sleeves and realize that this might be the worst of winter.
I can take it.
"Are you okay tonight?" she asks on the phone.
More than okay tonight.
Msn says it's 32 degrees in New York, NY, two hours from here but close enough. I run and think of spring sunshine on bare legs. Wind whips headphones away. But I roll up my sleeves and realize that this might be the worst of winter.
I can take it.
"Are you okay tonight?" she asks on the phone.
More than okay tonight.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
they've got planes, after all
"It was delightful to see you," he says, and means it.
My mind working for me. What is this?
I flow, I move, I breathe, I am real, I am this moment and something next.
My mind working for me. What is this?
I flow, I move, I breathe, I am real, I am this moment and something next.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
getting one's self into trouble with hardly any effort at all
I kept telling myself This really doesn't matter and as it turns out--
I was right.
And I could be all sorts of concerned. But I know now what I'm capable of. And what I'd be willing to do: that which frightens me most.
I was right.
And I could be all sorts of concerned. But I know now what I'm capable of. And what I'd be willing to do: that which frightens me most.
Monday, January 26, 2009
"I believe you can use a grapefruit."
What did I expect? I knew this would be difficult.
But I am here, and I am all right.
--
What did I expect? Well, not to feel so prepared--prepared to the point of tenacity. I'm happy to be back at school where silliness and sighs reign.
I've got this down now.
But I am here, and I am all right.
--
What did I expect? Well, not to feel so prepared--prepared to the point of tenacity. I'm happy to be back at school where silliness and sighs reign.
I've got this down now.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
10:10 pm
I recognize these songs and know who made this CD. My body's warm and I'll try vault before logic gets the best of me.
A single guitar strums.
"NOT THIS SONG! How do you change it?"--searching for buttons--
"Like this," he says, taking the remote. Song gone.
"Is this song okay?" he asks as guitar leads off the next track.
It is.
"You sure?" He's serious but part of him must be trying not to laugh.
It will do.
A single guitar strums.
"NOT THIS SONG! How do you change it?"--searching for buttons--
"Like this," he says, taking the remote. Song gone.
"Is this song okay?" he asks as guitar leads off the next track.
It is.
"You sure?" He's serious but part of him must be trying not to laugh.
It will do.
Friday, January 23, 2009
insurance
I think I hear music laughing but it may just be wind through eaves.
I think I see a star dart just above me. I might just be tired, almost too tired to drive within the lines.
I wish anyway.
I think I see a star dart just above me. I might just be tired, almost too tired to drive within the lines.
I wish anyway.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Well, she returns
I spent months running but something wouldn't let ceaseless motion distract how I wanted.
I thought it'd fade the way it did for everyone else. Their old bruises turned to same old skin. I thought I'd spent so much time thinking this was going nowhere that I'd finally believed it. That I'd just go somewhere.
Well, one night,
I sling the bag over my shoulder, pull the hair away from my face, and walk in, fully conscious of all five-feet of me and how I'll be glad to never really grow--
Then blasted by music-shouts-stop and go-thuds-perfect silence-round angles crashes laughs.
I join.
An hour later I allow myself that one indulgence: to lie down. Back to floor, arms spread, knees up, feet flat. I stare at the lights.
And for once I know:
I am exactly where I should be.
I thought it'd fade the way it did for everyone else. Their old bruises turned to same old skin. I thought I'd spent so much time thinking this was going nowhere that I'd finally believed it. That I'd just go somewhere.
Well, one night,
I sling the bag over my shoulder, pull the hair away from my face, and walk in, fully conscious of all five-feet of me and how I'll be glad to never really grow--
Then blasted by music-shouts-stop and go-thuds-perfect silence-round angles crashes laughs.
I join.
An hour later I allow myself that one indulgence: to lie down. Back to floor, arms spread, knees up, feet flat. I stare at the lights.
And for once I know:
I am exactly where I should be.
Monday, January 19, 2009
seeing epiphanies
A mind can't be changed in a night unless it leaned that way already.
There's nothing extraordinary about the pins I don't knock down, the crowded bar, the laughing singing voices from the backseat, the map of the world... (well, that's something).
But I'm laughing singing (shyly), I lean over the table to scrawl on my piece of the world, and nothing is wrong or disjointed tonight.
You smile.
I don't want anxious hours. The twisting sickness, the third burn-- Why? What for? I know those answers but just--not now, not right now.
Snowflakes in eyes, then; silly hats pulled over ears, songs to make me run faster, dream brighter.
There's nothing extraordinary about the pins I don't knock down, the crowded bar, the laughing singing voices from the backseat, the map of the world... (well, that's something).
But I'm laughing singing (shyly), I lean over the table to scrawl on my piece of the world, and nothing is wrong or disjointed tonight.
You smile.
I don't want anxious hours. The twisting sickness, the third burn-- Why? What for? I know those answers but just--not now, not right now.
Snowflakes in eyes, then; silly hats pulled over ears, songs to make me run faster, dream brighter.
Friday, January 16, 2009
I'll take this time after all.
All sorts of things have happened: reunions, reconciliations, returns, new music, singing, giving, laughing, driving. Bumping down 83, writing thirty pages, planning ten programs, watching Level 5, losing four wisdom teeth, and finally one acceptance! Miles north and back again, miles east to west and you know I'll never say no. I couldn't imagine the weeks but I never went crazy. Wishes of May but it's half of January already. I'll take this time.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
"So if you call me back in the next hour or so--WHOA!"
Sometimes my eyes are up and I'm running, arms pumping and steps never more certain--
Other times, girl to floor to nothing.
But now you're outside and I walk out in sweatpants, hair to the wind--
(you have no idea how glad i am to have you right now)
Let's you and me make a night of it
Let's take our scars out tonight, see how salt air feels in winter.
Other times, girl to floor to nothing.
But now you're outside and I walk out in sweatpants, hair to the wind--
(you have no idea how glad i am to have you right now)
Let's you and me make a night of it
Let's take our scars out tonight, see how salt air feels in winter.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
a response to damaged goods:
[Graves]: i think you are splendid
[Graves]: who else can recite good poetry and back flip simultaneously, or dare to try!?
Friends remind me that I'm doing something right in this world. And maybe two things. :-)
[Graves]: who else can recite good poetry and back flip simultaneously, or dare to try!?
Friends remind me that I'm doing something right in this world. And maybe two things. :-)
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Streets is on!
I shout storm fume! fumble groan -
I smack the steering wheel, I roll my eyes to heaven almighty-
and you know I won't change a thing
!
I smack the steering wheel, I roll my eyes to heaven almighty-
and you know I won't change a thing
!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
el bancozzz
[Diana]: my god, what has my life BEEN without the z's?
[Rachel]: What has my life been without YOU?
[Rachel]: Hell, that's what!
[Rachel]: What has my life been without YOU?
[Rachel]: Hell, that's what!
"I know that some people say,
'I'm going to start reading more,' and meanwhile I say, 'I'm going to start watching more football,'" I tell her as snowflakes gently hit the windshield and lights turn green.
"I think that's great," she says sincerely. "Watching football is very relaxing. And if necessary, you can fall asleep."
"I think that's great," she says sincerely. "Watching football is very relaxing. And if necessary, you can fall asleep."
What I Learned from Safety Certification:
"The right leg is injured more often than the left leg."
It's not just me!!!
It's not just me!!!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
warning
I'd left the high school parking lot just in time--before it really began to snow. A dusting lines the road but my wipers scrape from lack of moisture. Nothing, really.
I drive down Randall Road to the stop sign and see the car stopped at a forty-five degree angle at the end of the hill, see the girls in navy-and-gold sweatshirts looking at me. I wonder.
Now the back of my car fishtails left. Now in the middle of North Country. Now I break and know it won't do any good, steer and look both ways -- nobody approaches. Now I straighten to dead-on to the guardrail, now the car fishtails left again and glides gracefully to a pause.
I think two things as I drive away (slowly) and those stuck on the hill watch. I must have an angel on my side, a reason I've been left alive today and other times. A purpose yet to serve.
And if so, I'd better get home and start writing.
I drive down Randall Road to the stop sign and see the car stopped at a forty-five degree angle at the end of the hill, see the girls in navy-and-gold sweatshirts looking at me. I wonder.
Now the back of my car fishtails left. Now in the middle of North Country. Now I break and know it won't do any good, steer and look both ways -- nobody approaches. Now I straighten to dead-on to the guardrail, now the car fishtails left again and glides gracefully to a pause.
I think two things as I drive away (slowly) and those stuck on the hill watch. I must have an angel on my side, a reason I've been left alive today and other times. A purpose yet to serve.
And if so, I'd better get home and start writing.
Monday, January 05, 2009
labyrinth
If they were right, then I should have known better.
But you're doing the right thing.
A corner - a twist, a twist--
At once, a love for all these moments--
Here it is - the wall --
And a hope for this time to be over.
But you're doing the right thing.
A corner - a twist, a twist--
At once, a love for all these moments--
Here it is - the wall --
And a hope for this time to be over.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
She seems to have an invisible touch
"I don't believe this! I've got a trig midterm tomorrow, and I'm being chased by Guido the killer pimp."
The places we tread
Some of the locations I roamed to in 2008 (I like lists):
-la Ciudad de Mexico, D.F.
-Cuernavaca <3
-State College, PA ("Sixty pictures is a Facebook album")
-Ithaca ("Is this a photoshoot or a gymnastics meet?")
-Syracuse (gymnastics, left-or-right on 81, quests for pretty dresses)
-Greensboro, NC (something like redemption)
-Central Park ("I'm keeping a guido count")
-Binghamton (who doesn't need a jamocha?)
-Mexico, NY (they'll take you in at any hour of the day or night)
-El Paso, TX ("Did you see everything?" my dad asks, trying not to laugh)
-Albany (I didn't choose it this time, but I know I'll be back)
-Owego and Candor (I've been to that ice cream place with the gravel parking lot!)
-Long Beach Island, NJ (only Diana could get lost on a beach)
-Southampton ("Welcome to Shelter Island; I'm your RA")
-Flanders (when you need numbing lotion for your cyst and cookies to keep you going)
-Harrisville, NY (I didn't know it existed, either)
-Potsdam (ah, yes, eleven hours later!)
-Washington, D.C. ("It's AC/DC or the carousel!"--and we all know which one Lauren chose)
-Worcester, MA (sorority girls for an eve)
-Lauren's basement (because it's really good to hear your voice sayin' my name...)
-la Ciudad de Mexico, D.F.
-Cuernavaca <3
-State College, PA ("Sixty pictures is a Facebook album")
-Ithaca ("Is this a photoshoot or a gymnastics meet?")
-Syracuse (gymnastics, left-or-right on 81, quests for pretty dresses)
-Greensboro, NC (something like redemption)
-Central Park ("I'm keeping a guido count")
-Binghamton (who doesn't need a jamocha?)
-Mexico, NY (they'll take you in at any hour of the day or night)
-El Paso, TX ("Did you see everything?" my dad asks, trying not to laugh)
-Albany (I didn't choose it this time, but I know I'll be back)
-Owego and Candor (I've been to that ice cream place with the gravel parking lot!)
-Long Beach Island, NJ (only Diana could get lost on a beach)
-Southampton ("Welcome to Shelter Island; I'm your RA")
-Flanders (when you need numbing lotion for your cyst and cookies to keep you going)
-Harrisville, NY (I didn't know it existed, either)
-Potsdam (ah, yes, eleven hours later!)
-Washington, D.C. ("It's AC/DC or the carousel!"--and we all know which one Lauren chose)
-Worcester, MA (sorority girls for an eve)
-Lauren's basement (because it's really good to hear your voice sayin' my name...)
Thursday, January 01, 2009
New Year's Day
More thoughts for future windy days:
Is this the worst pain you've ever experienced? No! So DEAL WITH IT!
I redeem myself in standing after I hit the ground. You redeem yourself in looking me in the eye just when I'd expect you to look away.
My cheeks are a bit too swollen for me to smile successfully right now. But I'll always be glad for that.
Is this the worst pain you've ever experienced? No! So DEAL WITH IT!
I redeem myself in standing after I hit the ground. You redeem yourself in looking me in the eye just when I'd expect you to look away.
My cheeks are a bit too swollen for me to smile successfully right now. But I'll always be glad for that.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
"I think I might do it. I'm going to visit the Help pages."
After the drool, the blood falling onto my jacket, the gauze, the sulking, the pea-soup-on-the-face, the vicodin, and THE NAP:
Sometimes it really is the thought that counts!
Sometimes it really is the thought that counts!
When it's all over, I'll come back for another year
Quick coffee that turns to "Highway to Hell," milkshakes, and playlists -- quick visits that turn to "Facebook events" -- Voicemail 1: "Diana, I'm dying, save me!" Voicemail 2: "By the way, this is Caralyn" -- "Only you would get your wisdom teeth out and plan a road trip," and of course Beth and I would go to Albany -- images of "training" -- "Thank God you answered!" Rachel says -- the way we laugh when we laugh together --
Another year closes, and don't you know? Once again with the best of people.
Another year closes, and don't you know? Once again with the best of people.
Monday, December 29, 2008
falls on me
"Besides, there are so many right paths."
So it is. I feel this way. You don't really have to do this. But I will. They give you hell. I make my hell. Their voices rise and fall but I open myself to the gentle indifference of the world--I live as such.
I know, you know.
--
Hi, Angie!!! :-D
So it is. I feel this way. You don't really have to do this. But I will. They give you hell. I make my hell. Their voices rise and fall but I open myself to the gentle indifference of the world--I live as such.
I know, you know.
--
Hi, Angie!!! :-D
Saturday, December 27, 2008
sprinkle cheese and noodles
"It'll be summer soon enough," my mom says as December fades.
Even so, I hate January, February, and parts of March.
Too much gray.
--
New Year's Resolutions (yes, actual goals this year!):
-get published.
-finish the tale of Nick and Pete.
-find an outlet for mi espanol.
-run ten miles without stopping.
-or more.
--
I'll be sore tomorrow for certain,
but it feels so right to fly.
Even so, I hate January, February, and parts of March.
Too much gray.
--
New Year's Resolutions (yes, actual goals this year!):
-get published.
-finish the tale of Nick and Pete.
-find an outlet for mi espanol.
-run ten miles without stopping.
-or more.
--
I'll be sore tomorrow for certain,
but it feels so right to fly.
"If words be a Tsuk,
let me stick the landing." - Mike Mc
"What do you think about Jesus?"
"Can I get his number?"
"Do you think she has the potential to be ____ Scher?"
"...I just put salsa on my hamburger."
"Oops."
Oh, friends, you truly have my soul!
"What do you think about Jesus?"
"Can I get his number?"
"Do you think she has the potential to be ____ Scher?"
"...I just put salsa on my hamburger."
"Oops."
Oh, friends, you truly have my soul!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
la Nochebuena
At 2:30 in the morning, the duty phone warbles and wakes me. I answer, hang up, sit in the dark to orient myself for a moment.
I am here.
But before I move, before I can remember dreams, a thought whispers -- so very clear -- so genuine --
and it is something worth saving, I think, in paths frozen by ocean breeze and nights with blood run red, the one thing to turn thunder into mist.
I am here.
But before I move, before I can remember dreams, a thought whispers -- so very clear -- so genuine --
and it is something worth saving, I think, in paths frozen by ocean breeze and nights with blood run red, the one thing to turn thunder into mist.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
pre/post-op
Before:
My stories will keep me safe.
After:
My stories will keep me safe. But I am allowed to smile.
My stories will keep me safe.
After:
My stories will keep me safe. But I am allowed to smile.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
A taste sensation
My mom is officially awesome: http://thedailydish.us/dessert/lucilles-lemony-sprinkles/#more-3131
Monday, December 15, 2008
Bist du bereit, es mit deinem Leben zu erkampfen?
Sprecher: Ihr Fremdlinge! was sucht oder fordert ihn von uns?
Tamino: Freundschaft und Liebe.
Sprecher: Bist du bereit, es mit deinem Leben zu erkampfen?
Tamino: Ja.
Speaker: Stranger, what do you seek or ask from us?
Tamino: Friendship and love.
Speaker: And are you prepared even if it costs your life?
Tamino: I am.
-The Magic Flute
Tamino: Freundschaft und Liebe.
Sprecher: Bist du bereit, es mit deinem Leben zu erkampfen?
Tamino: Ja.
Speaker: Stranger, what do you seek or ask from us?
Tamino: Friendship and love.
Speaker: And are you prepared even if it costs your life?
Tamino: I am.
-The Magic Flute
"Oh, my God, a rubber (rubber) (rubber)"
I don't feel like being awake today.
Let it be, lady. Let it be.
Let it be, lady. Let it be.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
decisions we make
A fantastic summation of life by the one and only Laurel Frega:
"Because for me, this is idiotic but it's like a car accident - you don't want to stare but you can't look away..."
"Because for me, this is idiotic but it's like a car accident - you don't want to stare but you can't look away..."
phasing
This is one of those rare clearings in life where I take a seat, look back to last night, and wonder, What the heck HAPPENED?
From "I'm sorry if it's lame" to Beth on the phone before she arrived at my house to three in the morning at some rave-type event we didn't know existed, looking at each other in bewilderment and dancing anyway, Sarah yanking sketchy guys from Beth by screaming, "That's my girlfriend!" to driving home with no headlights for the sake of listening to our CD--
It seems that we always make this life work for us.
--
This is one of those clear times where I know exactly why I'm doing what I'm doing, and have a decent enough sense of what will come of it.
"It's like they kept you on a leash in Cortland, and then you went to Southampton," she said. Timing-wise it's a strange place to begin--I'm older and wiser by now, you'd think--but evidently there's something yet unstirred in me.
And it's all a phase. I know this. So it's easier to laugh.
The difference? I once knew it all wouldn't matter, so I never tried.
Now I try anyway, knowing that it will end just the same.
From "I'm sorry if it's lame" to Beth on the phone before she arrived at my house to three in the morning at some rave-type event we didn't know existed, looking at each other in bewilderment and dancing anyway, Sarah yanking sketchy guys from Beth by screaming, "That's my girlfriend!" to driving home with no headlights for the sake of listening to our CD--
It seems that we always make this life work for us.
--
This is one of those clear times where I know exactly why I'm doing what I'm doing, and have a decent enough sense of what will come of it.
"It's like they kept you on a leash in Cortland, and then you went to Southampton," she said. Timing-wise it's a strange place to begin--I'm older and wiser by now, you'd think--but evidently there's something yet unstirred in me.
And it's all a phase. I know this. So it's easier to laugh.
The difference? I once knew it all wouldn't matter, so I never tried.
Now I try anyway, knowing that it will end just the same.
Friday, December 12, 2008
On the second glance of last night:
"We Are the Champions" and "A Whole New World" will forever hold new meaning.
As well as Irish brogues.
And I think that's what kept me buoyed throughout the whole conversation, which turned out well enough anyway. But a few moments I saw it turning sharply the wrong way.
Yet I knew that no matter what was said, I could walk into the next room. And they'd scream my name and laugh and hug me.
As well as Irish brogues.
And I think that's what kept me buoyed throughout the whole conversation, which turned out well enough anyway. But a few moments I saw it turning sharply the wrong way.
Yet I knew that no matter what was said, I could walk into the next room. And they'd scream my name and laugh and hug me.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
I write.
Why?
Well, it began because I loved words, could leap over them faster than my classmates, quickly learned what it was to stack them like blocks and knock them down.
I was good at it, you see.
Now?
I write to scream. To keep myself from screaming. I sing when I write, I hit just the right pitches, don't you hear? My words are the gymnast I am and the gymnast I never can be, they elevate and I watch, they are nonsense and so goddamn clear.
I write about you. I write about what's not about you. You are sometimes what I write, but never why. Do you know who you are? Do you try to find yourself in my syntax? What would you think if I wrote you out, deleted you with a swift press of backspace?
I write to be tall, to be pretty, to be enraged, to remind myself of humor. I write to race, I write to obfuscate, I write to clarify and mystify you with simplicity. I want you to be bewildered and torn and thrown to your knees. I contradict. I make perfect sense. I slash cliches.
I can't write when I'm bleeding, only after the scar begins. I write with joy, write when I am joyous. Write to draw you into the dance with me, around and around until we fall down breathless.
Well, it began because I loved words, could leap over them faster than my classmates, quickly learned what it was to stack them like blocks and knock them down.
I was good at it, you see.
Now?
I write to scream. To keep myself from screaming. I sing when I write, I hit just the right pitches, don't you hear? My words are the gymnast I am and the gymnast I never can be, they elevate and I watch, they are nonsense and so goddamn clear.
I write about you. I write about what's not about you. You are sometimes what I write, but never why. Do you know who you are? Do you try to find yourself in my syntax? What would you think if I wrote you out, deleted you with a swift press of backspace?
I write to be tall, to be pretty, to be enraged, to remind myself of humor. I write to race, I write to obfuscate, I write to clarify and mystify you with simplicity. I want you to be bewildered and torn and thrown to your knees. I contradict. I make perfect sense. I slash cliches.
I can't write when I'm bleeding, only after the scar begins. I write with joy, write when I am joyous. Write to draw you into the dance with me, around and around until we fall down breathless.
self-motion
Today's had an interestingly perfect balance of positive versus negative.
There are some risks that I am no longer willing to take.
However, with the unsolicited chocolate cake from Joey and wonderfully random mix CD from a "secret snowflake" whose identity I'm fairly sure I know...
I shut the door before inertia gets the best of me.
There are some risks that I am no longer willing to take.
However, with the unsolicited chocolate cake from Joey and wonderfully random mix CD from a "secret snowflake" whose identity I'm fairly sure I know...
I shut the door before inertia gets the best of me.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
I know you know I know
If you won't tell, they will.
She sits across the table from me. She has no idea but I have an inkling. And I calmly eat my clam sauce and pasta as she tells me what I ought to know.
I hesitated for the right reasons.
She sits across the table from me. She has no idea but I have an inkling. And I calmly eat my clam sauce and pasta as she tells me what I ought to know.
I hesitated for the right reasons.
Monday, December 08, 2008
there was fire.
I laugh under lights but as I pull up my hood and shine my flashlight over the dark sidewalk - dark walls - the wind wails and sighs through cracks.
I am scared.
Stars and distant highway lights are the brightest illumination right now. Wind whips clouds from moon. The windmill sits dark. Silent. Blue Christmas lights hushed for now.
They tell me that the transformer blew, that they saw it. "It kept pulsing and then all of a sudden it exploded and there was fire," they say. People in Bridgehampton said it looked like a lightning strike.
I smile as they play cards in the dark - scream as the handle to the vacant room gives way and sprint up the stairs, leaving Deana bewildered but chasing me. We sit in the common area and the emergency lights extinguish. One. By. One.
Outside, wind warns.
And yet for light, for the electric pulse and collective sigh of relief - the return to just another night -
I will wait a moment longer.
I am scared.
Stars and distant highway lights are the brightest illumination right now. Wind whips clouds from moon. The windmill sits dark. Silent. Blue Christmas lights hushed for now.
They tell me that the transformer blew, that they saw it. "It kept pulsing and then all of a sudden it exploded and there was fire," they say. People in Bridgehampton said it looked like a lightning strike.
I smile as they play cards in the dark - scream as the handle to the vacant room gives way and sprint up the stairs, leaving Deana bewildered but chasing me. We sit in the common area and the emergency lights extinguish. One. By. One.
Outside, wind warns.
And yet for light, for the electric pulse and collective sigh of relief - the return to just another night -
I will wait a moment longer.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
For a storyteller
The broken light on the freeway
left me here alone
I may have lost my way now
but I haven't forgotten my way home
For you who is most likely "waaasteeeddd" right now in a manner that only an SBU main campus student can dream of, who giggles mischievously and answers simply, "You love me!" if I even begin to look at you crossly, who rides shotgun when I decide to traipse to 7-11 or the drive-thru to stave off boredom for another few minutes, who does not cringe when I sing, you who know that you are not meant for this sort of place and will leave sooner rather than later, but whom I am so glad to have met:
Happy birthday! :-)
left me here alone
I may have lost my way now
but I haven't forgotten my way home
For you who is most likely "waaasteeeddd" right now in a manner that only an SBU main campus student can dream of, who giggles mischievously and answers simply, "You love me!" if I even begin to look at you crossly, who rides shotgun when I decide to traipse to 7-11 or the drive-thru to stave off boredom for another few minutes, who does not cringe when I sing, you who know that you are not meant for this sort of place and will leave sooner rather than later, but whom I am so glad to have met:
Happy birthday! :-)
"That's the sound of a shitshow."
Children named after presidents. Chicken and ranch. I thought tonight would be a quiet sort. No; I sing "Down With the Sickness," Lauren and I watch UPD lay down the law, we escape to the drive-thru before much else can happen.
Chris rambles. KC shakes her head. Faces and feet shuffle in and out, smiling brightly and stepping over me on the stairs. I hear the texting jingle of my phone upstairs. I know exactly who it is. Moments slide to 3:00 a.m., I quote Anchorman, Katie nearly cries with laughter, and I realize that we're all cracked up, all of us here, and there's something in us that loves it, loves this.
Chris rambles. KC shakes her head. Faces and feet shuffle in and out, smiling brightly and stepping over me on the stairs. I hear the texting jingle of my phone upstairs. I know exactly who it is. Moments slide to 3:00 a.m., I quote Anchorman, Katie nearly cries with laughter, and I realize that we're all cracked up, all of us here, and there's something in us that loves it, loves this.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
now running on or close to schedule
As we all recover from Lauren's 21st, I've banged out six pages about the return from Mexico (ironically, though I've used "fuck" as a verb in other tales, I'm too embarrassed to say "constipated" in this one), made cookies, offered some peer feedback, found the location of books that I haven't read for tonight's class but will pretend to have, and printed the directions to an address in Quogue, in whose quest I'm fairly certain I'll get lost in.
And I'm left wondering, Will I sleep tonight??
...Nah.
--
"To be honest, I'm not sure if I'll ever finish this story," I say, gesturing to the final half of the final chapter of Nick and Pete.
"I was hoping you wouldn't say that," he replies.
Looks like we're in for it now, boys.
And I'm left wondering, Will I sleep tonight??
...Nah.
--
"To be honest, I'm not sure if I'll ever finish this story," I say, gesturing to the final half of the final chapter of Nick and Pete.
"I was hoping you wouldn't say that," he replies.
Looks like we're in for it now, boys.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
redemption in dreams
I've never met her but in my dream she has large, beautiful blue-green eyes. I almost stare.
But this is my opportunity. I stand in the parking lot tonight. The crowd has thinned. She's waiting for me.
I won't bring up what I really want to. Who am I to be entitled? What can I demand or conclude? But I have my first opening.
She looks at me. We are just about the same height in this dream.
"I'm really displeased that you brought my brother into this situation," I say coldly.
She starts to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
That is all it takes.
But this is my opportunity. I stand in the parking lot tonight. The crowd has thinned. She's waiting for me.
I won't bring up what I really want to. Who am I to be entitled? What can I demand or conclude? But I have my first opening.
She looks at me. We are just about the same height in this dream.
"I'm really displeased that you brought my brother into this situation," I say coldly.
She starts to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
That is all it takes.
Monday, December 01, 2008
the stories I find
"I asked Joe if he would give me a piggy-back ride and he at first said no. Then I just stopped walking and he was like 'fine' and I lept onto his back, stole his hat, put it on myself backwards and kept calling myself 'ghetto.'"
Rachel, you will always have my heart!
Rachel, you will always have my heart!
In the rain, the pavement shines like silver
Mind-altering stories.
--
I cannot get "Miracle" out of my mind.
--
--
Still there...
--
Dear Diana,
I'm sorry.
It's just that I can't stop being myself.
Sincerely,
the part of you that knows better
--
I cannot get "Miracle" out of my mind.
--
--
Still there...
--
Dear Diana,
I'm sorry.
It's just that I can't stop being myself.
Sincerely,
the part of you that knows better
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
For Emeline to stumble upon
During a fantastic phone call from Laurel just before, we established the two grand questions of our time:
1-How does Emeline dance the way she does?
and
2-Why don't our bodies do that?!
:-)
1-How does Emeline dance the way she does?
and
2-Why don't our bodies do that?!
:-)
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
I must have built up some good karma
I FOUND THE KEY!!!
--
"That makes you the most KICK ASS person in the entire world!!!!" -- I love my friends. :-)
--
"That makes you the most KICK ASS person in the entire world!!!!" -- I love my friends. :-)
just like deja vu
Are you okay with that? Well, of course I am. Did I think this could happen? Of course I did.
Naturally, in fact.
Fingers to face.
I close my eyes.
Naturally, in fact.
Fingers to face.
I close my eyes.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
it's all in how you finish
"We learn language to tell the stories within us," he says. "Part of the story will be in this novel. Part will be in the next story you write. And the next.
"Don't lose sight of the character. There's a reason he's so important to you."
I like that--that this matters.
"Don't lose sight of the character. There's a reason he's so important to you."
I like that--that this matters.
And outside, it starts raining
It's snowing up north but raining here after a warm, calm cloudy day. I hear Deana's laugh and everyone passes from room to room, here and there, in pajamas and smiling and ready to linger.
It's raining out there and cozy in here, though I haven't written nearly enough.
Maybe I shouldn't mind. Maybe these are the nights I've always wanted.
I want to think that I am elevated. Hardly parallel yet far too similar circumstances come to us still. Someone makes a metaphor of melody.
I have come to understand you better.
It's raining out there and cozy in here, though I haven't written nearly enough.
Maybe I shouldn't mind. Maybe these are the nights I've always wanted.
I want to think that I am elevated. Hardly parallel yet far too similar circumstances come to us still. Someone makes a metaphor of melody.
I have come to understand you better.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
especially right now
I feel inspired in the rush of after-class moments. I sit still and type. I'll leave for dinner in fifteen minutes, everyone's antsy already and I know this will be gone when I return.
Where does it float away to?
Something needs to take hold.
I will find it. I will.
--
Beth said it so perfectly that night on the cozy couches in Starbucks: "There have been enough words."
I think I've made it rather clear that I can be a bit all over the place--especially right now--and somehow my hair always gets messy or my eye, you know, turns black or those damn eyelashes disappear again, and then I start laughing because I'm too nervous to say anything.
I think you see this.
And you know what? I like you.
Where does it float away to?
Something needs to take hold.
I will find it. I will.
--
Beth said it so perfectly that night on the cozy couches in Starbucks: "There have been enough words."
I think I've made it rather clear that I can be a bit all over the place--especially right now--and somehow my hair always gets messy or my eye, you know, turns black or those damn eyelashes disappear again, and then I start laughing because I'm too nervous to say anything.
I think you see this.
And you know what? I like you.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
you know the rendezvous
And as my ankle gives way on the side of Montauk Highway, I wonder not for the first time--and certainly not the last--if something really is improperly wired on the left side of my brain.
two beds and a coffee machine
I left the gym and walked to my car. The pine scent in darkness flowed everywhere. And suddenly I remembered the lines of a song I hadn't thought about in years: There's hope in the darkness, you know you're gonna make it through.
I walked into Deana's room not much later and there it is playing: Another twist in the road, you keep moving. Another stop sign, you keep moving on.
What are the odds of two nods to an obscure Savage Garden song in one day?
--
I feel guilty. I want to hold everyone close to me.
I wish her story of what's happening now didn't sound so much like mine, only with the names and details changed.
I smile and smile, but where do I go from here?
I walked into Deana's room not much later and there it is playing: Another twist in the road, you keep moving. Another stop sign, you keep moving on.
What are the odds of two nods to an obscure Savage Garden song in one day?
--
I feel guilty. I want to hold everyone close to me.
I wish her story of what's happening now didn't sound so much like mine, only with the names and details changed.
I smile and smile, but where do I go from here?
Monday, November 17, 2008
afternoon delight
It's November 17 and I just went for a run down Montauk Highway in shorts, sunlight hitting the rifts in the road and leaves still spinning down.
You're all right, Long Island!
You're all right, Long Island!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
capital notions
Mike: "It's either the carousel or AC/DC!"
Lauren: "The carousel!"
::Mike and Lauren storm off in opposite directions::
Nick?!
::Finger up:: "Tag it."
Lauren and me in unison: "Ooh, a port-a-pottie!"
Kristof: "Did you just quack?"
I don't want another pretty face...
"You're my tiny dancer!" Jess declares as we link arms on the sidewalk.
"Where are you?" Mike asks on the phone.
"Umm...13 and F," I say.
"Okay, I'm at 12 and G, do you see me?"
"No, F," I say. "Like 'fiesta.'"
"Fabulous," Jess says. "Fun. Finger. Frolic. Food."
"Okay, I'm walking up..."
"Fantastic. Frank. Fork."
"Where are you?"
"Far!" I say.
"Good one!" Jess says.
"Mike, why don't we take the metro?" I ask as he opens the cab door.
"I'm ready. I have pandas on my ticket," Jess adds, sliding in behind me. "Buckle up, kids."
As we drive and Mike talks about the embassies:
"That's a big tower," I observe.
"You're a big tower," Jess retorts. She pauses. "That didn't make any sense."
How big (or small) is it?
"Do you know what the highlight of my trip was?" Lauren asks this morning as gas very slowly flows into her car.
"Besides the carousel?" I say.
"Dammit!"
"I'm glad we got to see the penis thing," Lauren says on the Jersey turnpike.
"The Washington Monument?" I ask.
"Is that what it's called?"
Lauren: "The carousel!"
::Mike and Lauren storm off in opposite directions::
Nick?!
::Finger up:: "Tag it."
Lauren and me in unison: "Ooh, a port-a-pottie!"
Kristof: "Did you just quack?"
I don't want another pretty face...
"You're my tiny dancer!" Jess declares as we link arms on the sidewalk.
"Where are you?" Mike asks on the phone.
"Umm...13 and F," I say.
"Okay, I'm at 12 and G, do you see me?"
"No, F," I say. "Like 'fiesta.'"
"Fabulous," Jess says. "Fun. Finger. Frolic. Food."
"Okay, I'm walking up..."
"Fantastic. Frank. Fork."
"Where are you?"
"Far!" I say.
"Good one!" Jess says.
"Mike, why don't we take the metro?" I ask as he opens the cab door.
"I'm ready. I have pandas on my ticket," Jess adds, sliding in behind me. "Buckle up, kids."
As we drive and Mike talks about the embassies:
"That's a big tower," I observe.
"You're a big tower," Jess retorts. She pauses. "That didn't make any sense."
How big (or small) is it?
"Do you know what the highlight of my trip was?" Lauren asks this morning as gas very slowly flows into her car.
"Besides the carousel?" I say.
"Dammit!"
"I'm glad we got to see the penis thing," Lauren says on the Jersey turnpike.
"The Washington Monument?" I ask.
"Is that what it's called?"
Friday, November 14, 2008
south glances north
Have I finally become all right with staying put? No longer running away but instead lingering?
--
Still too close to call.
--
Still too close to call.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
This is too ridiculous to pass up
I could try to make up an excuse for this...but there is none.Oh, best friends of mine!
Sunday, November 09, 2008
To marry a porcupine
We've had a good amount of tears in the suite this week, Sarah and I concluded before.
And if you hold on tight
to what you think is your thing,
you may find you're missing all the rest
And then:
Turns out not where but who you're with
that really matters
"Living On a Prayer" as performed by Deana and Sarah beneath my window, first walk in the woods, 7-11 encounters, photographs of sunsets, "Southold?", 4:00am bedtimes, singing Chris Brown and Jason Mraz in harmony, the possibility of Cortland OR D.C. next weekend, uncontrollable laughter in professional settings, new decks of cards, the Coriolis effect, deforestation, familiar faces talking their ways out of write-ups, free Capital One tea, King Kong stripping, white jackets, "I'm getting dinner to go" "WHY?", 8th grade dances, genuine exclamations of, "I'm so happy to see you!"
Would you expect any other sort of resilience?
Would you not like to be
okay, okay, okay?
We make this world shine for us.
--
(Ah, and sometimes, when we just need something nice to happen, it does.)
:-)
And if you hold on tight
to what you think is your thing,
you may find you're missing all the rest
And then:
Turns out not where but who you're with
that really matters
"Living On a Prayer" as performed by Deana and Sarah beneath my window, first walk in the woods, 7-11 encounters, photographs of sunsets, "Southold?", 4:00am bedtimes, singing Chris Brown and Jason Mraz in harmony, the possibility of Cortland OR D.C. next weekend, uncontrollable laughter in professional settings, new decks of cards, the Coriolis effect, deforestation, familiar faces talking their ways out of write-ups, free Capital One tea, King Kong stripping, white jackets, "I'm getting dinner to go" "WHY?", 8th grade dances, genuine exclamations of, "I'm so happy to see you!"
Would you expect any other sort of resilience?
Would you not like to be
okay, okay, okay?
We make this world shine for us.
--
(Ah, and sometimes, when we just need something nice to happen, it does.)
:-)
Friday, November 07, 2008
Friday afternoon
"We're not religious or anything but my mom was watching this sermon on TV and the priest was talking about divine connection. Like you meet some people and they change your life SO much for the better. It's not even just love -- it's with friends, too. And you know that something was behind it, like it was more than coincidence. That's how I feel about you. You have NO IDEA how glad I am that I met you."
:-)
I've made some odd decisions this week. Beth will read this and feel out of the loop, but she's already received a hint and she'll get more. She'll be a bit bewildered. I am, too, but it keeps this life fluid.
:-)
I've made some odd decisions this week. Beth will read this and feel out of the loop, but she's already received a hint and she'll get more. She'll be a bit bewildered. I am, too, but it keeps this life fluid.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
lady in reddddd
"I don't know if you remember this, but we were outside one day," Deana says. "And you yelled, 'I hate it...I HATE IT!' and I swear birds flew out of the bushes."
"Shit. I know what happened to the CD."
"Yeah?"
"I took it out when Sarah and I went streaking because we wanted shit that would pump us up."
"Dusty?! Is this a dream?!"
Caralyn and Sarah fill out the RA evaluation form.
Caralyn: "Things Your RA Could Do Better...are you serious?"
Sarah: "Things Your RA Does Well...me."
It has always happened that I live with pretty awesome people. :-)
"Shit. I know what happened to the CD."
"Yeah?"
"I took it out when Sarah and I went streaking because we wanted shit that would pump us up."
"Dusty?! Is this a dream?!"
Caralyn and Sarah fill out the RA evaluation form.
Caralyn: "Things Your RA Could Do Better...are you serious?"
Sarah: "Things Your RA Does Well...me."
It has always happened that I live with pretty awesome people. :-)
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Fog through branches
I knew as soon as I started that first paragraph that I had no idea where this story was going. I picked a name. I picked "them."
It's been two months and I've thought I'd just let Nick and Pete stew in the Adirondacks for a time, let them figure some things out until I pick them up again - if I ever do. Because now I've got at least seven others running through my mind at a fictitious school and they're trying to get a whole lot done and they grab me and say, "Listen! Listen!"
So I typed, printed, and forgot.
"Who wants to start?" the professor asks after everyone has pulled out their copy of my chapter and I've read two pages aloud - wondering why he asked me to read this particular portion, wondering if my spoken voice will provide a better understanding.
Everyone glances at their papers.
"Okay, I'll go first." The professor turns to me. "I don't think this scene could have been written any better than the way you wrote it."
Well, how about that?
It's been two months and I've thought I'd just let Nick and Pete stew in the Adirondacks for a time, let them figure some things out until I pick them up again - if I ever do. Because now I've got at least seven others running through my mind at a fictitious school and they're trying to get a whole lot done and they grab me and say, "Listen! Listen!"
So I typed, printed, and forgot.
"Who wants to start?" the professor asks after everyone has pulled out their copy of my chapter and I've read two pages aloud - wondering why he asked me to read this particular portion, wondering if my spoken voice will provide a better understanding.
Everyone glances at their papers.
"Okay, I'll go first." The professor turns to me. "I don't think this scene could have been written any better than the way you wrote it."
Well, how about that?
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
"How about, 'Sex, Lies, and Burning Guitars OR How I Spent My Summer Vacation'?"
[Diana]: maybe she'll say, "i'll call you, okay?"
[Lena]: yeah!
[Diana]: or
[Diana]: "But I'll call you"
[Lena]: or
[Lena]: "Don't let the door hit your ass"
I've spent more time than usual in fiction today - "But WHY would she lie?" I ask, sandwich forgotten, passerbys with fluffy dogs irrelevant. We pause for a moment to discuss how creepy it can be when people speak of their fictional characters as if they're real.
But I'd be lying if I said that my heart didn't speed up as I wrote how Nick begins to find out what has happened.
I've spent more time than usual on beam today - "Are you implying that I just saved your life?" I ask, putting my hand to her back for the next back handspring. "Yes," she says with a laugh.
I've spent just enough time in reality today - the four of us in one room, a conversation that began with Heroes and then tears and rough days and then turned, somehow, to bra sizes.
"At least you know what you want," my mom said this morning. "Yes, but I don't think it helps," I said.
But it does. It makes things clearer, although harder. I know what I want. And so I must do the opposite.
The rest is silence.
[Lena]: yeah!
[Diana]: or
[Diana]: "But I'll call you"
[Lena]: or
[Lena]: "Don't let the door hit your ass"
I've spent more time than usual in fiction today - "But WHY would she lie?" I ask, sandwich forgotten, passerbys with fluffy dogs irrelevant. We pause for a moment to discuss how creepy it can be when people speak of their fictional characters as if they're real.
But I'd be lying if I said that my heart didn't speed up as I wrote how Nick begins to find out what has happened.
I've spent more time than usual on beam today - "Are you implying that I just saved your life?" I ask, putting my hand to her back for the next back handspring. "Yes," she says with a laugh.
I've spent just enough time in reality today - the four of us in one room, a conversation that began with Heroes and then tears and rough days and then turned, somehow, to bra sizes.
"At least you know what you want," my mom said this morning. "Yes, but I don't think it helps," I said.
But it does. It makes things clearer, although harder. I know what I want. And so I must do the opposite.
The rest is silence.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
autumn lens
I'd thought that I certainly couldn't look more attractive than I did last night: sopping wet hair smelling of dye, glasses rubbed hastily on shirt, saturated jeans sticking to legs. Today could be a close second, though: messy hair air-dryed after rain, slow blinks of bleary eyes, purple socks, chipped nail polish, and still, the glasses.
Between the black eye and running out of right eye contacts, this is the first time I've worn my glasses for more than a day since I was fifteen. Sure, this pair isn't quite as round. But I can't quite shake those ninth-grade connotations: uncomfortable, uncertain, unpretty.
"You look different now with glasses," Kim says as we walk under late-afternoon sun on the Rocky Point track. "I remember when you had the bangs..."
"And really long hair..."
"Yeah!"
"I was such a loser," I say, watching my shadow grow taller on blue track.
"No, no! You were a dork," she says with a smile, "but so am I."
I still am.
We begin to run and my legs move quickly through the mind's fog.
I always think of goals, a purpose to this - the same difficulty with nights at Spins this summer - and by lap three I remember the Thanksgiving Day Races and that there's one I've never tried: the five mile. It might be lame compared to Joy's marathon in Athens, I think as I round a curve, but it sounds just about right for me ahora.
Glasses bounce on the bridge of my nose. I ran at Ridgewood with glasses, around and around the indoor track at Suffolk West, in the woods with Kelsey as snow began to fall.
Feet bounce to the beat in my ears. I hear less, see more. The breathing's more than all right though the training's been less than regular...
I hit that final curve - "One more!" I call to her as she walks - today will be one of those perfect kicks -
Do it for yourself.
Between the black eye and running out of right eye contacts, this is the first time I've worn my glasses for more than a day since I was fifteen. Sure, this pair isn't quite as round. But I can't quite shake those ninth-grade connotations: uncomfortable, uncertain, unpretty.
"You look different now with glasses," Kim says as we walk under late-afternoon sun on the Rocky Point track. "I remember when you had the bangs..."
"And really long hair..."
"Yeah!"
"I was such a loser," I say, watching my shadow grow taller on blue track.
"No, no! You were a dork," she says with a smile, "but so am I."
I still am.
We begin to run and my legs move quickly through the mind's fog.
I always think of goals, a purpose to this - the same difficulty with nights at Spins this summer - and by lap three I remember the Thanksgiving Day Races and that there's one I've never tried: the five mile. It might be lame compared to Joy's marathon in Athens, I think as I round a curve, but it sounds just about right for me ahora.
Glasses bounce on the bridge of my nose. I ran at Ridgewood with glasses, around and around the indoor track at Suffolk West, in the woods with Kelsey as snow began to fall.
Feet bounce to the beat in my ears. I hear less, see more. The breathing's more than all right though the training's been less than regular...
I hit that final curve - "One more!" I call to her as she walks - today will be one of those perfect kicks -
Do it for yourself.
I'm breathless but the best I've felt in awhile. I saw all of the bulky black braces while I ran but today my legs are strong. The knees turn in and the scar's pink as ever, but these are my legs and this is my strength.
And isn't that lovely?
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
such a day
Between el dia de los muertos and festive skulls (I can't believe I ran out!), delicious wraps, free hugs, papers placed in my mailbox offering such free hugs, wrestling, napkins with professions of love for me, M&M's picked from trail mix, having another week to plot where the heck this novel is going, the blue bruise now wrapping under my eye, the hint of an excellent approaching weekend, sore legs, Tanya's e-mail about parentheses, real laughter between young and old, the ability to finally just relax and hang out, having one last year to break free (so they say), a new toothbrush, and one of the two ninja parking spots...
This life is treating me pretty well, you know?
This life is treating me pretty well, you know?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
small roads with small names
Nothing will change the highways I've taken. I could care less for gas or miles or money.
It was always worth the drive.
And now?
Dark fields, stars, one headlight that flickers on and off.
Would you believe me if I said I was happy?
It was always worth the drive.
And now?
Dark fields, stars, one headlight that flickers on and off.
Would you believe me if I said I was happy?
Monday, October 20, 2008
soft, round
One's enough to take the edge off this night. White dashes flick past - past - past. Goo Goo Dolls sing the soundtrack for this short drive.
And you're not thinking 'bout tomorrow
'cause you were the same as me.
Everything so soft, so round. Friends so close to me minutes before and they will be again shortly.
This aloneness is all right.
When I step out into the parking lot to walk back, the cold wind hits my face, taunts my strides and takes my hair. The same wind as a year ago. The one that knew, The world you are living in is not real.
Swipe in, open door, I nod to wind and step inside.
Perhaps still not quite real, these situations and circumstances here. But closer, I think with beautiful music still singing softly.
This is my life now.
And I'll become
what you became to me.
And you're not thinking 'bout tomorrow
'cause you were the same as me.
Everything so soft, so round. Friends so close to me minutes before and they will be again shortly.
This aloneness is all right.
When I step out into the parking lot to walk back, the cold wind hits my face, taunts my strides and takes my hair. The same wind as a year ago. The one that knew, The world you are living in is not real.
Swipe in, open door, I nod to wind and step inside.
Perhaps still not quite real, these situations and circumstances here. But closer, I think with beautiful music still singing softly.
This is my life now.
And I'll become
what you became to me.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
raising everything
completely dare be beautiful
-e.e. cummings
An hour ago the shoulder of my UTEP T-shirt was wet from her tears. I lose it altogether when we dance - the room's so warm, our shouts and music raising everything anyway -
"I need a miracle!" we sing again and again, and she's smiling for real and I'm sorry to keep anyone awake but we need this -
I pause briefly when he needs to talk - What should I do? he wants to know - Be who you are, I say sincerely - and then we dance, we dance -
And right then, what more could I want?
-e.e. cummings
An hour ago the shoulder of my UTEP T-shirt was wet from her tears. I lose it altogether when we dance - the room's so warm, our shouts and music raising everything anyway -
"I need a miracle!" we sing again and again, and she's smiling for real and I'm sorry to keep anyone awake but we need this -
I pause briefly when he needs to talk - What should I do? he wants to know - Be who you are, I say sincerely - and then we dance, we dance -
And right then, what more could I want?
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
a portrait of the artist
It came at a weird time; in fact, as I was sitting in Lauren's bathroom (yes, indeed) during a quick break from our Sing Star training. Flush with success from "Move Along" and "Baby, One More Time," I mentally prepared to get back in the game.
And then I semi-saw it in quiet coolness. Maybe why the part of me that was so adamant about the MFA instead of an MA eventually won out. Why I feel increasingly discouraged that I will never have a story worth writing or any publication beyond The Blog. Why I know that regardless, to add would be fine (espanol, por ejemplo, otra materia) but to give up would be wrong.
Because if I hadn't happily chosen gymnastics at age 11, I would have been a dancer. We all know I'm a bit of an actress and if I wasn't so timid to sing and improve that pitch, maybe I'd give it a try.
Published or not, I am a writer. And if it wasn't writing, it'd still be something impractical. Something emotional, something that breathes. Something that dreams.
And then I semi-saw it in quiet coolness. Maybe why the part of me that was so adamant about the MFA instead of an MA eventually won out. Why I feel increasingly discouraged that I will never have a story worth writing or any publication beyond The Blog. Why I know that regardless, to add would be fine (espanol, por ejemplo, otra materia) but to give up would be wrong.
Because if I hadn't happily chosen gymnastics at age 11, I would have been a dancer. We all know I'm a bit of an actress and if I wasn't so timid to sing and improve that pitch, maybe I'd give it a try.
Published or not, I am a writer. And if it wasn't writing, it'd still be something impractical. Something emotional, something that breathes. Something that dreams.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
more than halfway through weekend duty
And isn't this who I have wanted to be?
Things That Are Black, "Who wants ice cream?", Things With Spots, God-awful ring tone, directions to the nearest barbershop, fog and fingers touching windmill, Wainscott, running running (but not away this time), okay let's go -
four in the backseat, both windows down, one CD blaring, many voices laughing.
Things That Are Black, "Who wants ice cream?", Things With Spots, God-awful ring tone, directions to the nearest barbershop, fog and fingers touching windmill, Wainscott, running running (but not away this time), okay let's go -
four in the backseat, both windows down, one CD blaring, many voices laughing.
Friday, September 26, 2008
why so serious?
One person's trauma is another person's...laughter?
I was convinced that what I'd written was, at most, melodramatic and, at the minimum, emotionally charged. Hell, just writing it had put me in a bad mood. And by the time it came my turn to read out loud, I slumped a bit and hoped that maybe she'd pass over my story this week.
I read the first page. I look up.
And everyone is...grinning.
"This was really amusing and fun to read," one classmate says.
Amusing?
"It sounds like you're mad at him for doing exactly what you did!"
"He sounds like a nice fellow and he really seems to care about you."
"This could be a sitcom!"
They pale in comparison to how I've felt about her for my entire life.
Italicized lines are from someone else about someone else, but I see just how right they are. They all are.
Because, well, it hurt like hell but if I know now that I can forgive, that we are very much human and no matter if I cry or swear certain things to myself -
isn't this a test, after all? -
"Despite all that, I'm here," I told you my first night there -
that I will still feel the very same if not stronger -
I feel strongly that I can overlook that, because of how much she matters to me.
- then, well,
why not smile with them?
I was convinced that what I'd written was, at most, melodramatic and, at the minimum, emotionally charged. Hell, just writing it had put me in a bad mood. And by the time it came my turn to read out loud, I slumped a bit and hoped that maybe she'd pass over my story this week.
I read the first page. I look up.
And everyone is...grinning.
"This was really amusing and fun to read," one classmate says.
Amusing?
"It sounds like you're mad at him for doing exactly what you did!"
"He sounds like a nice fellow and he really seems to care about you."
"This could be a sitcom!"
They pale in comparison to how I've felt about her for my entire life.
Italicized lines are from someone else about someone else, but I see just how right they are. They all are.
Because, well, it hurt like hell but if I know now that I can forgive, that we are very much human and no matter if I cry or swear certain things to myself -
isn't this a test, after all? -
"Despite all that, I'm here," I told you my first night there -
that I will still feel the very same if not stronger -
I feel strongly that I can overlook that, because of how much she matters to me.
- then, well,
why not smile with them?
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
the story's in the first paragraph, they say
"It is narcissistic, vain, egotistical, unrealistic, selfish, and hateful to assume ownership of a town or a word.
"It is also essential."
Inconsistent courage pisses me off, but tonight I choose to be stupidly brave. To walk on dark path under trees instead of in safely-lit areas the way they tell us to.
"Your words used your way will generate your meanings. Your obsessions lead you to inner life."
Grass crinkles softly in yellow lights. I see no one. I see thoughts.
This place is haunted, you know.
Compromise: dark path with solid lights from buildings ahead.
So many dark windows. Who is like me?
I can't cry. Would you believe that? Well, last night I looked up at the stars while I was driving home and they made me so sad. I don't know why. I mean, hell, they're always there. What else is?
But besides that.
"It is also essential."
Inconsistent courage pisses me off, but tonight I choose to be stupidly brave. To walk on dark path under trees instead of in safely-lit areas the way they tell us to.
"Your words used your way will generate your meanings. Your obsessions lead you to inner life."
Grass crinkles softly in yellow lights. I see no one. I see thoughts.
This place is haunted, you know.
Compromise: dark path with solid lights from buildings ahead.
So many dark windows. Who is like me?
I can't cry. Would you believe that? Well, last night I looked up at the stars while I was driving home and they made me so sad. I don't know why. I mean, hell, they're always there. What else is?
But besides that.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
a break like this
http://www.dakotafilms.com/clips/promos/the-bourne-ultimatum <-- my cousin is the pizza delivery guy!
To Eric and Matt
Feet pause. "Is that a finger?"
"I'm talking to the nice man," she says.
"We're bored here. Can you drive onto the grass or something?" he wants to know.
"Later," we promise.
Sashaying with umbrellas past bright facades and brick pathways. "Don't have a cow!" and we groan and laugh.
Sprinting over sand - cool but not yet wet - meet grey crashing white grey again and again -
I stand at the shore, watch crashing grey and know that the desperately rushing tide runs to meet me - I smile - this overwhelming chaos, this beauty - I have finally found a place that is me.
"Let's break out the wine," Kim suggests as the trouble alarm beeps loudly and emergency lights shine on the residents in the hallway who look at me.
We play power outtage instead of power hour. Never have I ever kissed a cheerleader. Giggling fits take us outside. Intriguing basement conversations next to the room with one chair. Kid in the blue poncho, what's his story? Keep it on the DL.
"You two were in bathing suits and I was wearing a tank top," she'll claim later. Rain and wind slap our skin like the volleyball that keeps soaring under the net. Orange lights illuminate laughing bodies in the night.
White skirt,
soaking rain,
brilliantly clear morning.
This is the best time I've had in three years.
What have you been doing?
You don't want to know.
"I'm talking to the nice man," she says.
"We're bored here. Can you drive onto the grass or something?" he wants to know.
"Later," we promise.
Sashaying with umbrellas past bright facades and brick pathways. "Don't have a cow!" and we groan and laugh.
Sprinting over sand - cool but not yet wet - meet grey crashing white grey again and again -
I stand at the shore, watch crashing grey and know that the desperately rushing tide runs to meet me - I smile - this overwhelming chaos, this beauty - I have finally found a place that is me.
"Let's break out the wine," Kim suggests as the trouble alarm beeps loudly and emergency lights shine on the residents in the hallway who look at me.
We play power outtage instead of power hour. Never have I ever kissed a cheerleader. Giggling fits take us outside. Intriguing basement conversations next to the room with one chair. Kid in the blue poncho, what's his story? Keep it on the DL.
"You two were in bathing suits and I was wearing a tank top," she'll claim later. Rain and wind slap our skin like the volleyball that keeps soaring under the net. Orange lights illuminate laughing bodies in the night.
White skirt,
soaking rain,
brilliantly clear morning.
This is the best time I've had in three years.
What have you been doing?
You don't want to know.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
silent dim way of spirits
It's ten o'clock and we're already yawning. She pulls her fingers through reddish blond hair and talks about traffic court and moving south.
So who's the adult who lives in here?
Radio stations come in as crisply as headlights on dotted lines. Laughs come as sharply as plastic ball to plastic bat.
Are they, like, the school gangsters?
Ghosts on the highway each night. If I were the ghost in the windmill, I'd come down to this field to run from sweatshirt to sweatshirt, laughing in the silent dim way of spirits.
The thing is that you can't be afraid. You have to push through.
Reading about writing and as I listen, something glows again.
I should be here.
We should go sometime. I don't need to drink. I just like to dance.
I like learning to love small towns. But as she drives through the two stoplights that separate us from my car, I have the urge to tell her to keep going. Keep moving. Past these places.
I've lost the old nostalgia that upstate skies had for me, even from the start. I'm south and the stars are sharp and she laughs, good friend, keeping me clear, present.
Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.
I want to be the ghost tonight and not the driver. I want to get lost tonight, flowing through forests under the red slice of moon until someone whispers softly for me to turn back.
So who's the adult who lives in here?
Radio stations come in as crisply as headlights on dotted lines. Laughs come as sharply as plastic ball to plastic bat.
Are they, like, the school gangsters?
Ghosts on the highway each night. If I were the ghost in the windmill, I'd come down to this field to run from sweatshirt to sweatshirt, laughing in the silent dim way of spirits.
The thing is that you can't be afraid. You have to push through.
Reading about writing and as I listen, something glows again.
I should be here.
We should go sometime. I don't need to drink. I just like to dance.
I like learning to love small towns. But as she drives through the two stoplights that separate us from my car, I have the urge to tell her to keep going. Keep moving. Past these places.
I've lost the old nostalgia that upstate skies had for me, even from the start. I'm south and the stars are sharp and she laughs, good friend, keeping me clear, present.
Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.
I want to be the ghost tonight and not the driver. I want to get lost tonight, flowing through forests under the red slice of moon until someone whispers softly for me to turn back.
Monday, September 01, 2008
to the next to the next sort of life
What I've learned:
RCR's = death. There's nothing quite like the desperation - yet liberation - of knowing for certain, "I am fucked." Everyone has a story. Everyone. I can function on one hour of sleep, apparently. Never think that you won't run into someone again. We may be exhausted but I will always be trying to make you laugh - and laughing even if you stay silent. My friends roll deep. Always. These bathrooms do not include soap. Or towels. I say I'm nervous but I walk up and down as if this is in fact mine. As if those answers are mine.
And I love this dizzying jolts of words - laughs in slow times - quick quick feet - one hour of sleep smile and pass from the next to the next to the next sort of life.
RCR's = death. There's nothing quite like the desperation - yet liberation - of knowing for certain, "I am fucked." Everyone has a story. Everyone. I can function on one hour of sleep, apparently. Never think that you won't run into someone again. We may be exhausted but I will always be trying to make you laugh - and laughing even if you stay silent. My friends roll deep. Always. These bathrooms do not include soap. Or towels. I say I'm nervous but I walk up and down as if this is in fact mine. As if those answers are mine.
And I love this dizzying jolts of words - laughs in slow times - quick quick feet - one hour of sleep smile and pass from the next to the next to the next sort of life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)