Before Sleep
I am my most gutsy before sleep.
Time rearranges in a hallucinatory
clarity that can only be managed
when I am so fed up
I rise above routine, ashes, other
people's frowns, smiles and responses.
It's four in the morning, my brother
is having seizures and I will sleep
through my alarm in three hours.
I am my most gutsy before sleep.
I'll go find those doctors and catch
pharma on fire and their way
of taking my age and drugging them
until we're all sitting on a bus, staring
straight into anothers' eye but we can
not be lyrical.
If you want a piece of me
find me before bed, when I pick up
the phone and divulge my secrets
to resonate with a world
where I have none. it's free,
it's 7 AM and there is no alarm,
I break things and walk naked.
My life is held down by a rottweiler
blocking the entrance to the amusement park.
I need an invitation, a straightaway
into a morning fable when the sun
rises and everyone wakes up,
walks away and Lou Reed sings,
"I do what I want
I want what I see!"
Hallucinatory sleep, I feel you coming.
Here it is! My life has begun! My death
is only inches behind me,
I see now. I love you now.
The edge of the world is no fear.
The sound of the gates rampages my nerves
with steel grates and laughter in and out of
train capsules.
I am running to the runway, the flight
to "goodness this winter won't be death
without you!"
Secret monsters breathe before me.
I am my most gutsy before sleep.
10.28.2009
10.27.2009
10.26.2009
Cloud cover
Amputation seems a regular concept in my life for the past two years. I have lost more than I have been able to build up. Life is funny that way. I could feel bitter about my need to change my mindset but I am learning that this is more my fault than anything else. Because that is the only responsibility I can take. Otherwise, it's undirected anger that lacks any kind of productive quality.
Sitting on New York's trains brought this reality in a full facade. People looked drab and empty but I knew that they were anything but. It's impossible to suggest that human lives are stable and steady and no amputations take place. Did I not amputate my entire childhood? Why was it so easy then? I had nothing invested. I spent more time creating my "own identity" instead and it never seemed to occur to me that one day a line of amputations could feel so incredibly difficult. 1 the past is the past 2 and what is bad for you will be bad for you.
Part of me isn't even sure how I got here. For months I find myself this person who has little mass, aware of their own part in some kind of universal structure. My identity means little and everyone looks at me differently. To loan companies, I am their pawn. To old friends, I am the enchanted child. I was at my most attractive because I was not real. To my childhood, I am the only adult around. One looks at this and wonders, what the fuck am I, then?
I just wake up in the morning and realize my smallness in the scheme of things and yet the importance that somehow I perform to optimum levels. Because if I don't, where will I ever be? I will be nothing. I will be a mass. But then, what's the point, we're all the same, right? We'd have to be kidding ourselves to believe that somehow we are better, more wiser. I don't need to be ninety years old to know that it takes a real fool to die thinking they are the center of the universe.
I think in the end what is happening is total disillusionment to every single previously held notion about the world. This has happened before, but not to this extent. It isn't bad. I am not unhappy about it. I guess that happens when you are put into a vicarious position because you are aware that everything that is meaningful to you has the possibility of crashing right before your eyes again. What do you stand for then? You just stand in the clouds, smoking a cigarette, waiting for another five minutes to pass so you can reevaluate shit again.
annnnd... I'm rambling. I am certain I am having one of those crises that people have around this "time" or whatever. They visit doctors and get medicine and nothing seems to solve the problem. Because there isn't a problem and there isn't a solution. I wish I couldn't see through the bullshit. Maybe this is one of those things that no one could teach you about before because there wasn't such thing "back then". History fails to be certain. And now it's normal. It's not unpleasant. It's just... there. It's a lack of sirens in New York. It's a plane hovering over the city. It's me staring in a foggy mirror. What the hell am I looking at?
Sitting on New York's trains brought this reality in a full facade. People looked drab and empty but I knew that they were anything but. It's impossible to suggest that human lives are stable and steady and no amputations take place. Did I not amputate my entire childhood? Why was it so easy then? I had nothing invested. I spent more time creating my "own identity" instead and it never seemed to occur to me that one day a line of amputations could feel so incredibly difficult. 1 the past is the past 2 and what is bad for you will be bad for you.
Part of me isn't even sure how I got here. For months I find myself this person who has little mass, aware of their own part in some kind of universal structure. My identity means little and everyone looks at me differently. To loan companies, I am their pawn. To old friends, I am the enchanted child. I was at my most attractive because I was not real. To my childhood, I am the only adult around. One looks at this and wonders, what the fuck am I, then?
I just wake up in the morning and realize my smallness in the scheme of things and yet the importance that somehow I perform to optimum levels. Because if I don't, where will I ever be? I will be nothing. I will be a mass. But then, what's the point, we're all the same, right? We'd have to be kidding ourselves to believe that somehow we are better, more wiser. I don't need to be ninety years old to know that it takes a real fool to die thinking they are the center of the universe.
I think in the end what is happening is total disillusionment to every single previously held notion about the world. This has happened before, but not to this extent. It isn't bad. I am not unhappy about it. I guess that happens when you are put into a vicarious position because you are aware that everything that is meaningful to you has the possibility of crashing right before your eyes again. What do you stand for then? You just stand in the clouds, smoking a cigarette, waiting for another five minutes to pass so you can reevaluate shit again.
annnnd... I'm rambling. I am certain I am having one of those crises that people have around this "time" or whatever. They visit doctors and get medicine and nothing seems to solve the problem. Because there isn't a problem and there isn't a solution. I wish I couldn't see through the bullshit. Maybe this is one of those things that no one could teach you about before because there wasn't such thing "back then". History fails to be certain. And now it's normal. It's not unpleasant. It's just... there. It's a lack of sirens in New York. It's a plane hovering over the city. It's me staring in a foggy mirror. What the hell am I looking at?
10.20.2009
10.19.2009
Hair talk
I have to say that the beginning of my pixie cut about a year ago was freakin' adorable. It was awesome. It was 22. But watching it grow an inch reminded me what it meant to look like a newly wed Meg Ryan in the 90s. After reviewing pictures I know what that looks like now. It was cute, but I have just escaped my adolescent and early young adult trauma years to enter a new kind of young adult trauma. I don't know who the hell I was kidding when I cut my hair off and my old roommate, who was obsessed with the "image" of adulthood said, "Oh my god! You look like a real woman now!" As if I wasn't an actual woman to begin with, instead, just a woman equivalent to a shaved vagina or something?
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