Tag Archives: sad

a list of things I do instead of calling you

1. cry
2. cry
3. get drunk
4. wallow
5. break my key off in the door
6. fall over in front of the cemetery
7. cry next to the cemetery
8. throw my phone in the ocean
9. sleep
10. walk the dog
11. drive to the valley
12. look for eagle feathers
13. play the piano
14. write letters to friends
15. go to therapy
16. vent
17. try to jerk off but cry instead
18. nap
19. make coffee
20. practice tarot
21. sew
22. make a stencil
23. read a book
24. wheatpaste
25. write a song
26. eat salmon
27. do a reading at YAAC
28. be proud of myself

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homeless with money is a boring series of cafes

I am moving to a warmer middle of nowhere. I have to keep reminding myself that this is the goal.

It’s getting Cold. Cold is not a  memory, it’s a fact. And I forget every year. I remember rage, shaking hands, damning the sky and needing dry pavement like air. But I don’t ever really remember the feeling of Cold.

 This year, just as all before, autumn is a gift and my heart leaps at the thought of stretching it down the Alcan. Fall is a season everywhere else but here. Here it’s a bitter tease, a jest.

Every year I don’t have enough sweaters. Where do they go? I’ve never had a coat that seemed warm enough. I need a coat.

My dog needs a coat. She’s loosing all of her hair. One of three things is wrong with my dog:
1. Nothing
2. Auto-Immune Disease that costs $20 a month to treat
3. Auto-Immune Disease that costs four hundred dollars a month for the rest of her life to treat

But, oh yeah.. Cold.
Lastnight was Cold. I cried in the parking lot of Wal-mart because I had a really bad headache and a stuffy nose and I’m working too much and my back hurts and my neck hurts worse and my pain medication doesn’t really work anymore and they won’t give me anything stronger, not that I really want to be taking medication anyway and I know there’s a couple beers somewhere in the van underneath all the clutter, that will at least help me sleep, but I already took the pain pills that don’t work and I smell and I need a shower and laundry and my parents are out of town and I wish I could go to their house and eat and watch tv and cry in the shower but our relationship is all weird and they won’t let me have a key and whatever ’cause some people don’t have parents so fine, I’ll be fine, I’ll just go to bed and if I masturbate I’ll fall asleep faster, but I can’t even jerk off because nothing is sexy to me and I’m too cold and thank god I borrowed that sleeping bag from Aren when I did or I would be dead and I need to give that back, so I need to get some wool blankets but Wal-mart didn’t have any wool blankets but why would they and I hate Wal-mart anyway but everything else was closed by the time I got off work and I could go sit at Barnes and Noble but I don’t think I can sit up because I feel sick and I just want to lie down somewhere warm but everyone is gone or busy and nobody cares that I’m too cold and I’ve been fucking up all my relationships because I’m tired and cranky and selfish all the time lately and it’s my fault I’m homeless and cold.

So then I’m like: ok, yes, you made this decision. There’s a point to all of this and you are working toward a goal. You will get there, and it’s not that bad. Many before you have dealt with so many more obstacles. Obstacles, you are strong, you are a lion. You are a momma cat, but you are also a bird. You are smart and strong. You are resourceful. You have been through so much worse than this. Fuck everything in your way. You can do this. I can do this.

And then I just went to bed. And this morning I awoke. Still alive.

I’m going to live with my father. In November. I’m going to nanny my new baby sister, Cedar, born in July. They live in a town sixty miles from anywhere on the Olympic Peninsula. I’ll have my cats back, get a side job, walk Kote through the snowy forest, get to know my dad and have lots and lots of time to make music and art. I’ll stay as long as I want. and when I’m ready I’ll go somewhere warmer still, hot even. I’ll go to where the queers are. And I will collapse, relieved, revived, in the arms of my chosen family.


a bath or I’m about to be twenty-four

I mix in with the water
first, blood between my legs
then tears
I float
I bled twice as long after fearing pregnancy
I hold my tongue when I mean it
and say what I don’t mean to
I used to love swishing my hair slowly
back and forth like a mermaid
is my voice underwater more or less real?
are our reactions or our decisions
more or less real?
I’m giving her too much of my heart
she doesn’t want it
once, we got to 36 levels of Jenga
which is how I’ve stacked this all up
this morning there were coins in the bed
he said they were stuck to his legs
he’s gonna name the baby August
I’d name a baby August too
don’t compliment my eyes
I said
it’s too easy
he makes me feel sexy and rejected at once
he didn’t save me from hurting
like I thought he would
I want a life with her
beside her
but I want her to be by my side too
we’re teasing out the ends
which is responsibility?
and which is accountability?
self-guilt
        doubt
        blame?
I hold my tongue when I mean it
and say what I don’t mean
but sometimes
I’m just telling the truth
I turn on my side
and rest my head on the wall of the tub
I think I’ve done this position before
in my mama’s womb


you can’t say you’re an asshole just so you can be one

I don’t know why it took us eight years
to attract each other
I don’t know why you say you’ll call
and don’t
I don’t know what you’re so goddamn afraid of
or
why we even started this?
I don’t know why I feel safe in your arms
and think about you all the time

I don’t know why I’ve been so
accomodating
gentle
pleasing
nice
understanding
sweet
caring
agreeable

when you
cancel
flake
and forget me

when I mean to say
fuck you

yeah, sorry, what I meant to say was

fuck you.


si

see, the thing is
the last time I saw you
you were fanning stars from your eyes

and I knew it was my fault

I remember the first time I asked to kiss you
summer on the porch

and when granpa died
and I crawled into bed and you held me

I remember asking to call you my girlfriend
wrapped around each other on the little acorns

I remember how you would taste
kissing hello after biking

reading your homework to you
avoiding mine

doing laundry together
holding hands on the bus

morning rituals of kissing you awake
and coffee

your patience
and forgiveness

and when we cried goodbye
in the shower

see, the problem is
I’m grieving all over again

because I’m remembering
all of you that I want
and cannot have.


egan saves christmas

Things with Friend had deflated a few days into the trip, with our plans to go to Forks, WA cancelled even sooner. Little Bird was upset that I was sleeping with her and other people at the same time and had asked me to find another place to stay. So I was laying on the big couch at Egan’s house fussing with my waistband. Cramping and singing quietly along to an old Tori Amos VHS , the sugar skulls on the mantle my audience. I felt like my guts were going to fall out, but I was happy. I was cradling a really really stong cup of coffee from the french press,watching the flecks of almond and coffee grounds swirling all together and knowing that the caffine might actually be making me feel worse.  I love that Tori looks like she’s getting off when she sings. She was singing about roses and I thought about all the roses in Portland, now dead wet rolled up brown pieces of paper. I thought of the gigantic dead sunflower stalks across the street with their squishy white button tops. Everyone talks shit about the gloomy, rainy Portland winters, but I love it. I thought about how I was to return home in a few days and how nothing on this trip had gone as planned. “You are so cute right now”, Egan said as he came into the living room. I thought he was talking to the cat sleeping on a puzzle. “Just sitting here bleeding and watching Tori…” I smiled and thought yeah, this is exactly where I need to be right now.

Later, I felt better and I rode the bus down to the Hollywood district to the dog daycare I used to work at. My ex co-worker had arranged to sneak me in to see some of my old dog friends. There he was, Quincy, my four year old vizsla boyfriend. He remembered me and so did all the others. It was an amazing feeling to be back with those dogs I had cared about so much.

I left the daycare with a spring in my step and sang out loud walking on the overpass on my way to meet Egan. We met outside Grand Central and he handed me half a grilled cheese because he thought I might be hungry. I thought I might marry him. We caught the MAX downtown and sat so that everything rushed by backwards. Pioneer square looked like a movie, all of the lights and people rushing around christmas shopping . We talked about Aden and love and sex and gender and the past and the future. Egan is my favorite Leo of all time and every time we spend time together I am reminded of how amazing he truly is.

We stopped by Jackpot where he bought a special Efterklang record he was really excited about. After some time at Powells we headed to the bus and were stopped by an old friend from Anchorage who called to us out of the fancy bar she worked at in SW. She invited us in and gave us beer. We gave each other the cliff notes of our life and showed off new tattoos. “This is why I love Portland. Portland just gave us free beer!” I shouted as Egan and I ran to catch the bus.

Over the next two days we watched the Efterklang DVD that came with the record at least three times and I became a fan. I finished the scarf I was knitting for Friend that I had put so much energy into, like a metaphor. And I gave it to Egan as a token of my appreciation for saving my vacation with all the laughter and love.

On Christmas Eve Elena came over and watched Queen of the Damned with me. I gave them a speculum I had stolen from the hospital and we talked about love, relationships, abuse, celibacy and the emotional space we’ve had between us this past year.

On Christmas day I packed up my things, ate too much great food, and laughed with good people. As Egan drove me to the airport all I could think over and over was

How can I leave you? HOW CAN I LEAVE YOU?


a love poem

I stand in the natural food section looking at chocolate. I don’t really know anything about chocolate, but I’m trying to find something made from cocoa that isn’t oppressing someone somewhere. But that’s not even what I care about. Just a thought to distract me from why I am buying chocolate  at all. The one with the raspberries says it has a “love poem” inside and I decide that it’s appropriate. “Give it to someone you love..” it says.

I woke up this morning and it wasn’t a dream that faded like it should have been. My head hurt, dehydrated I suppose.

My aunt says cats are supposed know where people’s tumors are. Mom says Buddhi’s been sleeping on her neck.

I brought her what I thought could help. A big round seed and a pine cone from my house in the Brooklyn neighborhood. A feather and a bit of iridescent shell from the beach, sage Jodie gathered when she was in the desert. She said I could smudge her and I thought that was cute. I fought back tears as she held the sage to her nose. 

I told her not to start treatment over christmas. Wait a week I said, it’s just one week.

We have the same hands. Her soft perfect warm neck. I don’t want to have to wonder how much more time I have with her. I don’t want them to put that toxic shit in her blood. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Kevin got me a travel coffee mug from the thrift store and Emiline has been feeding and watching movies with me.

I’ve had this headache for three days straight. I guess I haven’t been drinking enough water to replace what I’ve been crying out. No matter where my mind circles and races, it comes to the same conclusion. And I am angry and helpless.

Lindsey stood beside me sitting at the kitchen table. Smashed my face into her new puffy jacket with Pepper in her other arm. Her boney hip and belt buckle dug into my shoulder as I sobbed. She said she felt nauseous.

I saw Jodie walking down Spenard in a skirt and no gloves, carrying her sewing machine. I stopped to see if she needed a ride, but the sew ‘n vac was only a block away. She took me into her arms like she always does. I looked into her loving eyes but I couldn’t tell her.

It snowed lastnight. Soft and quiet. It’s snowed so infrequently this winter that each time feels like the first time.