New York, So far

Is amazing, big surprise.
These women who are my friends are so strong and able in this city and it makes me intimidated, not of them, but of this sprawling megatropolis. I can't imagine ever living here, I'm not that tuff, but i sure do like wandering around, wide eyed, asking any passerby for directions. I was actually asked for directions, which prompted me to exclaim "HOLY SHIT YOU THOUGHT I WAS A LOCAL?!"

and then there's Tompins square park. My mother used to live right around the corner from there, when she was just about my age. She had an ugly little dog named Heathclif that was stolen by hippies for ransom in ths park, so i went there with B to see if we could find the past. What we found was a lot of junkies nodded out and a tire swing. B asked me if i wanted to swing, and I'm alwats down for a playground so we (clumsily) got into the tire swing and she kicked us into a spin so firece i was sure i was going to let go and go flying. it lasted forever. I couldn't tell which way was up. We stumbled off the swing, and into a bar (Doc Holliday's, cuz of the name) and promptly left to do nausea. I was so sick from dizzy I couldn't stand the subway so we took a car back to brooklyn. We got out at the park near B's house. She went up stairs, but I still needed some fresh air. A man walked by with a dog that looked like Olive and i asked him if his dog was a lab-chow. He said that he was. I threw up, right there, in mid conversation. and the dog ate it. The man and his beast scurried away, and I passed out (dead asleep) on the bench. Bernie came out and found me like an hour later.
amazing. new york is amazing.
today it's raining, but fuck it, we're going to Rockaway anyway.

6:21 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

dreaming of dead dogs

There is something very bittersweet about dreams of the dearly departed. On one hand, you get to see them, and be with them for a while, but then you wake up and they're gone and they exisit only in your head (and heart).

Last night I dremt of Lobo and BJ. Lobo mostly, and he was glorious. He could speak without words (like he did in life) and he said he couldn't find his way home. I told him I thought he was dead, and he was offended. It was a tactile dream, I felt his fur and him nudging my hand, and since my Olive was under the bed (sulking after a bath) I I knew it was him I felt. BJ was there, in the backround, like people are sometimes in dreams. More scenery than character.

What did the dream mean? Is Lobo lost in the ether trying to find his way home? No, it just means I miss him, and was unaware. The dream was just a reminder to remember.

9:18 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Don’t think I forgot

It was sharp in my mind yesterday, the far awayness of it all, when really it wasn't all that long ago at all. And what a wonderful reminder she was, and what a fun(ny) time we had and I hated that I was thinking of you on your birthday.

Remember how cool the creek was? the stickiness of the root beer popsicle dripping down our arms, the bottle of whiskey i drank after getting stung by a bee. Remember how we made steaks with beer and hot sauce we found in the car from taco bell? It was perfect, your birthday, two years ago.

When we got back from Sedona I kinda fell apart. We fell apart. We fell down into the pit we we playing around. I left the desert with my tail between my legs not long after.

Then I came to visit and you told me of a girl and then later you told me you we having a baby with her and I'm still reeling. Really, I am. No, I don't think I'll ever get over you, or that week, two years ago, by the creek.

4:35 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

When the cat is away

the mouse will blog. how post modern.

Trying to get a grip on what is going on- people coming, me leaving, all this flux adds up to nuthin much

and it is such on an old school lunch hour with the boss out (to collect me momos among other things) and the home slice typing away my work. it is good. it is cup o noodles good or better

and a safety meeting was just the thing to insure a relaxing afternoon and then after that? is after that.

for those of you who haven't: read Peter Pan. it is my new obsession. My (long gone/ amazing) cousin was very into it, and in Jas. Hook specifically but I never realized until I picked it up and read it how important it is. Today, I am a little bit Peter Pan and I cannot tell the difference between make believe and real.

Mid mady motivation? oh yes, in a can, in the fridge. oh yes.

And the baby keeps running away, and is brought home by panting passerbys and there's not much more i can do to stop her. I should keep five dollar bills at the front door to pay off her rescuers. I looked her in my room today and know all my panties will me eaten when i get home. snack. snack. nom nom.

back...to life....

12:10 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

what can be learned from jealousy.

Sometimes I get all caught up in the what-ifs. I see a life that works, that is not mine, and for a while I wish my life was different. More like someone else's. So that i would get to do wild things, dreamlike things. Sometimes i wish I could live the fantasy I see my friends living. I've done some pretty fantasic things, before. I used to fly by the seat of my pants and pay for the adventures I had with my ass, fake class or with greasy fingers. I cannot live now the way that I have before. Does it make me sad? A little, sometimes. And then i forget how good my life is because I don't have the same opprotunities as some people I know and admire.

Then, when i'm in the right mind, i turn it around. Think about all the lovely things that are afforded to me alone. And i feel blessed, not left out. This is mine, this body this life this routine. it's mine and I made it so and I can love it or not. I choose to love it. And in the choosing it is made better.

10:48 AM - 1 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Paging Doctor House

and hell: paging Doc Cottle as well
get me all them tv docotrs cuz the ones in real life aren't as well spoken, or as effective. and now everyone has a doctor i should see. I'm over it. keep a full script of pink ladies and get my ass back to the office, all a limpin and a whimperin (it's not as bad as all that).
see that glob under the kidney on the right in my photo? that's poop. just thought you'd like to know.
i'm lackng food stuffs and mental capacity. less and less in mind and more and more in body. i've started bringing olive with me everywhere. me and my olive doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo me and my olive.
wish she could come to work...
shit, wish she'd get a job.

6:53 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

visions are seldom all they seem

i saw the storm coming from miles off. I pulled over at a rest stop to stretch our legs and piss before driving through it. It looked like dark gray ribbons falling from salt and pepper hair. At a distance it looked beautiful, fun. It didn't take long to get to it, and it passed quickly, but while it was raining down on me I forgot to breathe. the sound of the hailstones on the windshield made Olive whimper, and then, in an enlongated minute, we got through it. I could hardly watch the road in front on me because I was sneaking peaks at the rearview, watching the storm getting bigger, darker.

they did not cut me open. they do not know all the answers. they say i broke my rib, and keep refracturing it. Maybe I hug to hard. guess i'll stop. i don't know. i can't focus. not there, on that, on me and the questions and complications of my body.

i ran away. i took my dog. it was a kind of dream. a good one after a bad one about a hospital. and now, at home, in my own bed for the first time in more than a week: this is the most surreal thing of all. more than having no words worth speaking to someone who needed my silence. I could not, can not, just be. and there are things that do and do not have anything to do with me. I think i think i'm more important than i am. or less. not sure which way, but that's outta whack.

but the important thing was the road, is always the road. between a here and a there i can be present. there is peace in the inbetween. i get trapped into forgetting where i love. Reign it in, store it up, reinvest it in my chest.

10:04 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

trapped for the good of my health

This is the strangest thing that has ever happened to me. It feels a bit like jail, in that people wake you just as you fall asleep and shuffle you from place to place to wait but not at all like jail because it is comfortable and they give you drugs and you can watch tv all day and color in coloring books all night. Yesterday they did so many tests, and the doctor came in this morning with good and bad news: the good news is my spleens are not the problem, as far as they can tell there is no problem. the bad news is: I am still in pain and they don't know why. So a different lady comes in every 2 hours and draws more blood from my hard to find and thin veins and each of them ask me why I'm here. The rest of this ward is elderly, and clearly dying people. This is the same problem I've had all year: yes something is wrong, and it looks serious, but i test clear for all the serious things so what the hell? I walked out on a doctor who told me because he culdn't find anything i must be making it up.

Another doctor just came in and told me i have cysts on my ovaries, but that's not what's causing the pain. He doesn't know what is. But it's not what he thought it was. more blood. more tests. more time with myself in a room with a view and coloring books and magazines and nic fits and general confusion.

fuck.

7:56 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

That side of paradise

They all tell me it's for the best. That I'll lose 40 pounds in the recovery, that I'll feel better from now .. one month, or so. It's been a problem my whole life, but only recently have I been aware of it. I am playing the part of pandora's box. They'll open me up and take out the monsters, and hopefully leave the hope inside. If that floats out I'm fucked: you're fucked: we're all fucked. I need it in me. I don't need this extra spleen, that is now quite visible from the outside of me. Doctor called me from home on a weekend to tell me to get things in order, so I can report to the hospital on monday morning. and I will. After going to book soup and collecting a bunch of new friends to help see me through this. Surgery is a dirty word.  It will be better on the other side of it. 

12:39 AM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

the unsomething

and then

all slips from grasp

in heart

and in head

and things once so pronounced

become invisible,

unsaid

and then the time of adjustment

the reassesment

of what is

and what isn't.

11:25 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment