yes, rebeca

how i wish

so many things, if i make a list it becomes flat, if i put it in words it becomes flat, so let's leave it open, let it take flight

but do you know what it feels like when i listen to tori?

no, of course, you couldn't, the way i like to imagine i know how she feels when she sings them when she couldn't possibly (or was it me)

if only i could roll you up with doug and tara and sprinkle on a bit of jared and what i once could have been and then distill out all of the dross, then you would blind me, but for a second all would be illuminated

red is my favorite color

i picture the most beautiful and last thing i would see
and dream of sleep

maybe

if

but he says

it's me

i can't win

i still find small comfort in sleep

but i keep waking up

i only want to dream

reality keeps breaking

condensation

i don't know how much i can

there are echos of me there and there

in tori

in kate bush

in the furs

tears for fears

we know some of each other, somehow

and so i didn't have to be completely alone

i crawled up inside and brought them along

there are many others, sometimes only a song, only a line, there are films as well, and i am there, dear claudia

it has been too long now, i am a wild child, semi-acclimated, but never comfortable.

i will hope for the best, but you know, it may all come to nothing. i am glad you are here now, but it is not enough, and i am afraid it will all fall through, and then what, what should i leave in my wake? they know they can't fix it for me, and i really may not make it. i will try, i will, but you would be frightened to know how close i've come, twice now, since i've known you, my promise notwithstanding, when it all comes down, i know there is nothing you can do, you can't save me, however intensely you might wish to.

i'm listening to tori tonight, it's been a long time, she's an odd one, not like me, not my oddness, but not like them either, like most people i feel so alien to. under the pink, i listened to it often, years ago. a line came up, what she meant by it in particular i don't know, but i know the meaning, and i couldn't say for sure, but i don't think it's a good thing in her case either. "you're already in there, i'll be wearing your tattoo". only in my case there was no "the way i was before", he started in on me too young, i never had a chance. i wish i could have known me, but this is all i've ever known, this twisted and perverted distortion of who i could have been.

IF

i daydream sometimes, i take myself out of the picture. i am glad of some things. that is, i have had some experiences i am happy i have not missed. there are things so intricate, it would take pages to convey the smallest part, so i opt for concise generally, not to pander to the twitter length attention span, but in hope that someone, somewhere, may be able to extrapolate something of what it really is.

there's sometimes a buggy.

to explain would also cause it to lose something, some poetry, some weight. i have considered on lightness, and it has its attractions, and i suppose i could fly were i light enough, but it is not me, no matter how much i would wish it.

i take myself out. i make it a scene, and i zap myself out, and watch it continue without me. but i know it would not be clean, i know it would only be for me. i am trying to talk myself into detaching enough to do it lately.

there was an incident. it was ugly. i don't feel like telling it now, not in detail, but there were children in the park bullying a child. i flew into a rage and yelled and cursed at them. i was triggered. i am horrified at how little people seem to understand what such experiences can do to a person, they seem surprised to hear of the suicides resulting from such abuses, but they still don't seem to really understand. i was so angry and intent primarily on getting them away from the boy i didn't do anything for him, and someone had come and was taking care of him while i was still yelling at the other children. it doesn't make the lambs stop screaming. they scream constantly now.

i have dreams. but you cannot live on them. so what do you live on in the meantime?

A BIG FUCK YOU

this one goes out to my family. if you can call it that. the one i originally fell into, with all the capricious grace of an indifferent universe. not my husband and son, who try their best and suffer me but it may not be enough. i hope it is, and i hope i make it.

my parents crushed me, and what i suffered outside of them, rather than help me, they only added to the difficulty i've had in negotiating this life. added to hardly encompasses the torments they compounded and turned blind eyes to. but i am tired of going through it in excruciating detail. i just happened to notice that my aunt does check this blog every now and then, so this is to you, auntie, and don't be shy about spreading the love, because it is to every last one of you, even art, though it is possible he missed the message i sent him, i'll leave that possibility open, but i am hardly inclined toward magnanimity as far as any of you are concerned. as far as grandma, i feel pity for her, knowing her story, but i feel toward her as i do toward my own mother, they should not have had children, they had no business being mothers to anyone; they were incapable due to the damage they sustained. and each created more cripples to carry on this tradition. i give you credit that you had the sense not to continue that cycle, but you cannot fall back on the excuse that you felt parents were responsible for their own children. that idiocy would mean there should be no child services, and children should be left to suffer with whatever abuse they are unlucky enough to be subjected to. i hold all of my cousins in contempt as well, except the ones i never knew. i only knew jessica as a baby. when grandma took care of her once while i was there, she was crying upstairs. i was 15. i tried to go up to her, though i knew nothing of babies, i knew of distress and need, and i tried to go and see what i could do. grandma stopped me, would not let me go, insisting that jessica needed to learn - i don't know what, maybe that she'd better get used to it now, the reality that you couldn't count on anyone to help you no matter how badly you needed something and how helpless you were to take care of yourself. i listened to her cry and knew it was wrong, and i was in my own distress over it. i had learned this long ago, but it pained me that anyone else would have to learn it. i don't know why i didn't disobey her and sneak up anyway, perhaps she was watching me, but for whatever reason i felt i couldn't go up. i hope linda did not buy into this notion of child-rearing.

The Insane Spark of High Heeled Girls

It flips a switch for me. Have they gone completely mad? Clicking across the tile, it is not new, only sad. Women have been damaging themselves for centuries to gain love and attention. This particular trend is new, I think. I don't believe the shoes have ever been so high, certainly not for day-to-day casual and business wear.

I even saw two of them walking through Houston International with them on, traveling for god's sake! And that is a huge fucking airport! These are 6 inch spike heels with narrow toes. I could go on to describe what this does to the feet and legs and spine, but suffice it to say if you do it long enough you will wind up seriously crippled, if not right away, as you get older, the degeneration creeping silently along, even if the behavior stops.

I want to scream at them every time I see them. I want to tell them exactly how stupid it is, and that it is completely made-up, a mass delusion, a conspiracy, the notion that these things are even attractive. Two types especially irritate me. The ones in pants, since the argument goes that they make the legs look sexier, a moot point with pants. I have even seen them wear them with pants that come to the floor, covering the shoe completely. "Why?" I want to scream, "Why, I beg of you, explain your thinking in this, what possible reason do you have for doing this to yourself in this case?" Those, and the ones who cannot walk in them, they awkwardly lurch about, looking as graceful as the crippled member of the herd, the one the lions would take out first.

And now a new contender wanders my way at this very moment. The beast. The behemoth. Why? Are you like the delusional Jerry Springer guest, thinking you are sexy, while 50 lbs. of gut spills out of your lacy midriff tank top? Do you think it has an ameliorating effect, counter-balancing your heft and utter lack of any type of grace or beauty? Lank hair, likely dyed blond in a similar ham-handed attempt. As you sit next to me, and I glance over for these additional details, having politely asked me if the seat was free, I do feel a queasy sort of discomfort in the things I'm saying about you now, feeling fairly awful for it, but you shouldn't have worn those shoes and set me off, now should you?

low spark of high heeled boys

lost...

we are all lost; it only differs in degrees. i have seen our differences poignantly; shall i now see our similarities? how bittersweet it will be, how it will always be. are we in this together? can we now be? we weren't once, you know, you turned away, all of you did, and i was alone. but i am determined to forgive your ignorance, and to try to understand it as that, rather than evil, which it has felt like. i will do what i can for you. i will love. the pain and hatred shall fade.

roger waters understands. can you hear? i'm asking you that.

goodbye blue sky

love me, love me...

i should distract myself. i should get busy so i don't hear it anymore, that fucking prodding, nudging voice, from so far away, inside, alone in the dark, forever. maybe she will always be there, there's nothing i can do for her, poor child. i have to abandon her, for now anyway, and hope she understands someday, that i had to finally take care of myself. she keeps crying for love and attention, only she is so far gone, quite mad, having been locked away for so long, it will never be enough. she can be soothed for short times, but it causes more trouble than it's worth, and when the soothing leaves, as it always does, having been more interested in quelling its own thirst than any concern for her, she feels worse, so much worse.

i want to be a veterinarian. i always have, but my mother shot that down when i told her, saying that i would have to deal with the pet's owner, knowing i had difficulty with people (that my difficulty was because of her and my father makes this statement so much more evil), in her derisive tone that deflated me. and of course i lost all will, strength, and direction as things progressed, as injuries accrued and complicated each other. if i pursue this, it will be a difficult road, but i want it, and i think i can do it, which is an amazing, though tentative and unusual, feeling for me to have.

i hate you, mommy. i want you to know that. to really know how evil you are. if you had any decency in you, you would throw yourself to the ground in front of me and surrender to the sobbing like a child, realizing the role you played in the destruction of all of your children, and beg my forgiveness, and ask what you could do now to help repair the damage you have done, knowing full well you can't, you can't even begin to make up for what i've suffered because of you. but you never will do that. you never will allow yourself to feel that. and you will die, miserable and alone, sitting in your own filth because no one in this world will take the smallest trouble to care for you, and maybe then it will dawn on you, but i doubt it. i know you were hurt as a child, and i am not unsympathetic, but you chose the wrong way to deal with that. i could have dealt with your pain, with unbalance, but not with the cold you opted for, so that you did not feel the pain so acutely.

and how badly i want to let these feelings go. they fucking hurt! and they will never be appeased, never. they need to be forgotten, i need to truly let it go, and i don't understand this part of me that enjoys the pain of holding onto it, i really don't. i think the part of me that wants to live is becoming stronger, and may be able to direct my energy to a better place, and just grieve them and move on, for they are dead, it is all dead back there, and to drag around this rotting corpse is insane.

i want to put myself back together now. maybe it's not too late, after all.



(i need a good hypnotherapist.

p.s. i really hate gwen stefani. she is all pop and image with no talent, no heart. what she pretends to have is just that, a pretense.)

desperate straits

again, again. what is to be done? i've been moving closer to wellness, but am by no means yet able to stand on my own, or at least i tell myself that. if only...

if only i had a little, if only i had some change, if only if only if only...

i don't have this song and i couldn't see it on youtube from here, the real version, and all the live performances are recent. and for him it seems to have stopped. he doesn't feel it anymore. good for him. but he should stop performing this one. it makes for weak fare. i hope to get to when it stops. at least it's not constant anymore.

i am scared, i am hurt, and i guess that gets tiresome. i know it does because i have taken a walk on the other side of this equation. i cannot deal with them anymore. they will pull me down with them. now they were nuts. only it is not all i am, there is so much more, and i can see the light at the end of that long, dark tunnel. but what happens now? my best efforts may not be enough. i did so want to do something, i have tried, but it always dies. there is nothing here for it to live on. and so i put it in a bottle, but the ether is so littered with them, i am lost in a sea of meaningless bottles, so unsure of who i am, the very few who have heard me impotent to carry the message further.

i want to say so much more, i always do, and the words are not there, not the right ones, and not enough of them. it is so delicate, so intricate, and it is there, but to extract it in the first place, from where it lives, in my dense jungle, and then to clarify, well, that will take time, and it is getting dark again, again, as it does, and my compass just spins.

hello.

can you hear me? am i wasting my time? it doesn't matter. i can't stop it anyway, even if it were a waste. it still makes me feel like something more than nothing, even if i remain lost.

two words will do, if it is all you can muster. but if you have more, i'll gladly take them, for it is a jungle and a desert at once. would you leave me here, alone, with a dull machete and my water low...