as well as

To Brautigan:

I wish you were still alive
(you are dead, aren't you?)
so I could kiss your brain
and suck on your words.

Next weekend: a piece of my art will be hanging on a public wall.

Also: visiting the dentist gives me phantom loose teeth.

Furthermore: http://aware.diaryland.com/

as well as: Hyperbole and a Half

free bird

From the "At Work" Collection of L-

Summary of the Lynrd Skynrd Concert
July 18, 2001

Overall, an alright, all-american (well, Southern) rock & roll band. Fat men singing and waving confederate flags around. Drunk 20-50-somethings throwing their fists in the air slow motion, spilling beer on millions & millions of cigarette butts on brown grass. Lighters go up for a song only the first 20 rows know the words to. I lay on my back and listen to people appreciating something I can't understand.

My best friend is crying because her boy has wronged her again. It's become so habitual that we can't do much but watch. We all take turns whispering words that don't help & kissing her forehead-hoping somehow we can transfer some sort of brave. We'll pray she gets hit with a reason to leave but tonight we can't do much but watch people walk around our island of a grass covered blanket. Where a few mintues ago there were thighs & mullets, there is an emptiness cluttered with $3 bottles and beer glasses. Someone let the water out.

We're all looking for someone to define this feeling inside us... this craving for more than what we've found. As hard as we try to find it in words or pictures or addiction-definition is always one step out of reach. It comes without being asked and it goes without saying. And no matter what we do to escape it, it's always the last thought of the day. It's always written somewhere behind our eyes or in that unsettled feeling that never leaves your stomach anymore. And no matter how far we go to chase it, there's always something lacking in that one thing that was supposed to make us happy.

We walk away in no real hurry. The show is done & we're still waiting to feel something. I watch her walk & smoke & I feel helpless. It's easy for people to tell her to walk away, but these are very real chains we're talking about. That's asking for an end to a circle. And she's stronger than some will ever have to be-not because she's got everything together, but because she's surviving with what she's got.


I sing for a while & change the words for her. On the way home we visit a few close calls and a payphone. We leave all of them feeling changed but not different.

And I know there are people everywhere, but I can't help feeling alone. Like life is happening without me. I stood on that blanket & drove & made stupid conversation-but all the time I was standing outside of myself. Reliving days and emotions and wondering if I might lose myself forever. I was not me, but a million mes that came before the me I am today. I was the girl in the movie who couldn't cry until she got angry-and then the whole world stopped to catch her tear. I was the girl who couldn't figure out how to fit into her body. Cheese slices and mustard and that was only the beginning. I was the girl with 2 left feet and too too many mixed drinks in her blood to make it over the balcony. I was the girl walking past midnight-sobbing hysterical looking stung out but dying inside for a pain of a love that was never right in the first place. Below freezing temperatures but I was the girl huddled around her cup of cold coffee she could barely afford. The girl who could barely control her sobs. I was the girl who was crippled by the discomfort of living. Pale turned purple with no blue in sight. I was the girl who picked nerds for friends. Secret codes and priorities got all flip flopped into frisbee football and anything but sleep. I was the girl laughing so hard she spit milk all over the kitchen table. Her mom just rolled her eyes and walked away.

I was the girl. I AM the girl. I am a collection of a million hers and for once I'd like to stop looking for a finished product in all this. For once I wish I would stop chasing after the she I'd like to be. There is no rest in a system where happiness starts in the future which is perpetually a day away. I am lost again. Recalling the past & momentarily forgetting that someday today will be a past I might find myself lost in. I could have stood there forever. Maybe I stand there still...

We sit on the hood of my car & play the "I Want" game. Thinking that if we can name it, it might become real. With all the talk of family & white teeth & surfers, it's all coming down to the realization that the moment is perfect just as it is. No more talk about imperfection as long as Sharon Sanders exists.

And maybe unexceptional nights like this are the most important of them all. They form your character. They force you to remember who you are & who you've been. They remind you (again) that there's no point in wishing you were someone or somewhere else. That journey and destination thing comes to mind, but it's not worth quoting. We've heard it so many times we forget that it means something. It's like, the one gigantic point to life that everyone is always forgetting. And it's more than surviving. And it's not about having everything together. It's about enjoying what you've got and where you're at. Seeing the forest for the trees. Seeing the future as something that doesn't even exist.

But if it did, it would start right now...

&

lovers & monsters

i want a life infused with expression. i want to be surrounded by creation and creators.
spark.
ignite.
all-consuming and consumed.

"Art is the act of admitting that often before us are monsters and lovers."

define freedom

youonlygetoneyouonlygetoneyouonlygetoneyouonlyget
one.

freedom sounds like a lack of alarm.
it sounds like the first of three days of
rain outside this window
which i may
or may not
be here
to hear.
It sounds like the promise of pages
(they have been so patient)
(you have all been so patient)
And freedom is only a matter of time.

There is enough room in freedom to wiggle-
to curl your toes around its edges
and to feel the give.
There is room enough in freedom to make a choice to stay
(it is a matter of choice when there's nothing new to say)
There is room enough in freedom to walk away
(but freedom does not run, because it is not afraid)

.

bliss

You know what I want to do today? I want to sit around and talk about how odd human experience is. And laugh. And come to conclusions. And write them down. Maybe illustrate. I want to read trashy magazines and drink coffee til midnight. That is what I want to do today.

but I do and I will

Threw away rotting produce.
It's too cold to eat.
Too cold to sleep.
Too cold to love.
Too cold to care.

a cockroach, indeed.

forward, march

Today an NPR segment talked about how people are unable to walk in a straight line beyond about 20 or 30 steps while blindfolded. In fact, we can't do anything in a straight line for very long... swim, drive... They've been studying this for at least a century- blindfolding people, asking them to do random things, and observing.

The interesting thing is, not only do the people veer off the straight path, they inevitably begin to move in circles. Walk in circles. Drive in circles. Swim in circles... and these circles usually get tighter and tighter the longer the person persists.

There is something innate in us that begins to retreat backward when we do not have stimulus to cue us to the present. And we persist, all the while under the impression that we are moving forward.

I think the heart works like that too.

When the way ahead isn't clear, we innately return to places we've been. Lessons we've already learned. Experiences and emotions already played out. Nostalgic circles winding tighter and tighter, and all the while we think we're moving forward. We think we've gone somewhere new.

Be here now. Look for the cues. Forward, march.
http://www.npr.org/blogs/krulwich/2010/11/03/131050832/a-mystery-why-can-t-we-walk-straight

i think in the fall we do

is this what it is all about?

ten hours of unadulterated sleep in which i dreamt i was in love with my bald uncle. slowly taking care of the demands of the day, but i have a crate full of projects from 3 weeks ago that i still haven't touched. no idea what i am going to do tomorrow. don't feel like even thinking about the maintenance involved in the day to day. showering. dusting. putting gas in the car. paying bills. checking things off lists.

for what? for what?

summer fun is fun. caught up in the impulse of everything. such short sighted revelry. it is all in the moment and right before us and blinding. fall means dim and a certain curling up. a certain stepping back and analyzing. a scrutinization and a questioning. and an ache.

we find ourselves doing things we're not sure we want to be doing in the name of needs or wants further removed. in the summer we don't question those twice removed motives. i think in the fall we do.

then

The past was brilliant. The future, bright.

"Tonight was a great night.
Politics is fun.
When I am sitting in the middle of a dinner party
positioned right next to a demolition derby and eating
chicken with a state house candidate and a Justice on
Michigan's Supreme Court, I think about you and I
think about how all light blue candles smell like you,
and these thoughts make me smile. Your are a real
jungle beauty Lindsey. You can never see you, but
once in a while you appear out of nowhere and eat the
farmer's chicken before returning to wherever you
come from. You better be achieving something down
there. I don't care what it is, but it better be
something.
Love you in all the right ways.
--- Lindsey wrote:

> When she got to the door, she could still hear his
> car running at the curb. She wanted to look back,
> but she knew that in a certain sense, it would mean
> she had lost. She took her time finding her key-
> she was always losing her keys in the bottom of her
> purse. She thought that, of all the people that she
> really knew with any degree of depth, that he would
> have understood the ache. In fact, she was almost
> sure that he did. A few days would pass before she
> would come to the conclusion that his denial of the
> "reality" of it all was just a projection of his own
> sadness.. his own loneliness. But for now, she was
> exhausted. Tired from talking only to find herself
> unheard. She had loved him. She knew he knew that
> much. She found the keys and was so lost in thought
> that she hadn't noticed that the car was still
> running on the road. It wasn't until she was near
> sleep that she realized that she had never really
> heard him leave. She considered the fact that he
> might still be by the
> street... waiting... and she let the thought take
> her to sleep.
>
> Justin wrote:When I told her that
> it wasnt real the last time she
> looked at me as though she wanted to be hurt but
> didn't know how. She left the car and walked away as
> I yelled her name and then "oh...come on". She was
> tired of discussing her relationship with him with
> me
> and wanted to be angry but she didn't know how. All
> she could feel was sad, sad for her family, sad for
> her friends, sad for the love that she didn't have.
> I
> had been a break from the sadness from time to time
> but was now part of her cycle. I felt guilty
> watching
> her leave but I didn't follow her.
>
>
>
>
> --- Lindsey
> wrote:
> > sometimes you have a little glass family inside of
> > you and i love that. i love who you are and that
> > you are my friend. sorry about the drunk part,
> > better luck next time. carl and i have been
> > emailing off and on. supposedly he's in Oregon.
> > Have you heard from him? if not, tell me and i'll
> > forward some of his emails on. they're refreshing
> > and beatiful
> >
> > my legs hurt like jello nails. i ran 4 miles
> today.
> > the worst part is- that's only a quarter of the
> way
> > to the goal. ughh.
> >
> > i am angry at you. you never told me to love Doug
> > Blocksma. you even saw him. you even knew that he
> > liked comic books. and you didn't tell me to hold
> > on to him. i blame you for it all. i would have
> > listened to you , you know. now, for all i know,
> > it's too late. thanks for ruining my life.
> >
> >
> > when you're not with me, i'm blue.
> > blue's clues. en espanol. please bear with me.
> > it's all i can do and this has been a helluva.
> i'll
> > be home in august and i hope i show up on your
> door
> > someday and maybe you'll be there. except you'll
> > have to do the buzzer thing first before i can
> > really come to your door. and... tell sean kemp
> > hello and that he's got beautiful eyes. tell
> > yourself that you're beautiful all over.
> >
> > Love, Linds
> >
> > Justin wrote:
> > Uhm, I didn't understand a word of what you just
> > said,
> > could you repeat that pleasE? My brother saw you
> in
> > ohio but he was singing and there was a rapture
> and
> > then blood shed so he didn't have time to say
> hello.
> >
> > I miss you like I would miss my left arm. It still
> > feels like I can use you but your not here and all
> I
> > have is memories of you and It feels like your
> here
> > all the time but your not. Ha. Me and sean just
> got
> > really drunk and I am drunk right now. I will
> spend
> > the next hour trying to channel you in my mind.
> Tell
> > me if anything happens. If you need a new car I
> have
> > one you can have. Wait no I don't I lie alot. Miss
> > you when your not here. Or when I think about you.
>
> > Thats more accurate. Hope life is happy and bye.
--- Lindsey
wrote:
> > ohio means good morning in japanese. currently, i
> >just tried to play raquetball in flip flops
> >unsuccessfully. i do homework. go to class. work.
> > i cut people's hair and eat food and fall in love.
> >i walk to and from school through the ghetto and i
> >love the stray cats and the street fights. i write
> >music and round up bongo players. next month i'm
> >recording. this month it rains a lot. i was down
> >in the valley for a few weeks. a really hard few
> >weeks. i'm coming out of it. lessons learned.
> >time to slow down and enjoy life"

_____________________________________________________________________
the present shimmers in its own real way.

this is part of that

And you knew this would happen.
This is part of that.
Suffer the hours.
See the ugly-
the unapologetic-
and wrap it in your solitude until it does not shriek.
Only forward
by small
shrouded steps
and
unknown is all it will ever be.
Death. Departure.
(when nothing turned something turns nothing again)
We approach cautious or casually.

and when we
know,
it will be too late to retrace
or to catch our breath

A heart kept is a heart in decay.
A heart given is buried alive
but beating.
Beating still.

More Than Myself

"Not that it was beautiful,
but that, in the end, there was
a certain sense of order there;
something worth learning
in that narrow diary of my mind,
in the commonplaces of the asylum
where the cracked mirror
or my own selfish death
outstared me...
I tapped my own head;
it was glass, an inverted bowl.
It's a small thing
to rage inside your own bowl.
At first it was private.
Then it was more than myself."

matters

so, we only get one life, right? and one body to experience it in. and all along we´re loathing or trying to adjust or learning to appreciate this body that´s really just bent toward decay and changing fast anyway. humans are such babies as a species. i feel like we don´t even come close to placing value on what really matters. or...giving it the attention it deserves. but...i have no idea what matters. i have no idea what is important and what is disposable.

self image? community? survival? patriotism? faith? financial security? expression? words? memories? family? animals? space exploration? the moment? goals? laughing? thinking? babies? beauty? solitude? avoiding pain? embracing pain? preparedness? spontaneity?

what am i supposed to crave when the demands of the day are met?

what the fuck matters?

Spoken.Written.

When I was loading my entire life into my car to move west, she made a big huff about not making room for a $15 toaster she had bought me on a visit to Philly. I made it fit; I judged her for her petty shortsightedness. Four years later, I have no idea what happened to that toaster, but I wish I had it now. I've been craving toast.

"A merely clever man is partial to self, despising other, vaunting ego; the man of understanding takes the larger view: nothing exists to take exception to. Nothing is real."

Despite all his thinking and believing, R. Kelly has yet to fly.

At some point a few weeks ago, I made the decision to be less active on facebook. I have been better for it. Now I look at people more. Welcome silence. A sense of decluttering of the mind. I do not feel any negative impact from not being up to speed on other people's minute to minute statuses. I have been trying to live deliberately, even if it's through lulls in conversation or waiting in lines.

I highly doubt that at the end of my life I will wish that I had spent more time keeping up with people on the internet. I'm trying to live here. now. not in some quasiauthentic virtual space.

Not never, just less.
Choosing deliberately instead of just default habit.
Being aware of how I am spending my thoughts and my time.
It has made a difference. Really.

"Well, God said in the Bible you're supposed to honor the Sabbath, so you need to go."

Invincible.
Intense/Placid.
Indifferent/Interested.
All of the Above.

expectation

"Choosing not to become the person your family expected is painful. You have to leave their world completely just to make sense of your own life. And then fate lures you back whenever it can to give you a chance to measure the distance between yours and theirs... and to see if it's just as far as you remembered."
-This American Life, NPR love

alien

Thought:

Dehumanizing crazy downtown/urban dwellers is easy to do because they so effectively dehumanize themselves.

At what point in the divorce from reason does humanity go, too? Never? Even when they can't string together a comprehensible sentence? Even when they see their own lives through a smudged pane? Even when they urinate freely in public? Even when (whether due to their own choices or sheer shitty luck of unfortunate birth circumstance leading to susceptibility to make poor choices where others might not) they've certifiably and irrevocably lost their minds?

What makes any of us human?

Many worlds in this one, alien and ignorant. Not all are as conducive to sustaining life.

here's to hoping

L-
You make me smile to think that others feel remotely the way that I do every second of my life. My life is beginning to show signs of relief. I hope that you feel the same now. I'm sorry you have to worry about stupid papers. Eventually they will be a thing of the past and get to eat ice cream and walk around naked the moment you walk in the door.
I miss you dreadfully.

apathy

this morning i drove past
an accident (crash) i very nearly witnessed
(thump)

airbags deployed and went limp (flaccid)
engine
smoking after impact

i barely looked-
worried more about making the green before sirens muddled up the whole scene.

forgotten phantom panicked face
in the passenger window.

impassive
nearly asleep awake
but something moves in my periphery
something stirs me
from cold

everyone in their single shells (loaded and cracked)
(ready) (or not)
(categorized)
(scrutinized)
(one of a dozen) (or more)
all bent toward decay
sooner or later
and still we do.
i am largely uninspired.

some outrageously beautiful and constant strength

S:

L: You are experiencing the gut wrenching aspect of being human. You are facing down the heavy and the ache and the daring to love. It is always a dare. Always a risk. You are having to realize- to feel in that unbearable way- that connecting with others means being vulnerable to a lack of control. It is humbling. Makes you feel limbless- stranger to self. Welcome, though. Welcome to it. let it all fall apart. ... And don't even think of dating until you feel good on your own.

S:

L: Have you left the house today? Make yourself leave the house today.

S:

L: And it GOES in waves. Minute by minute. One foot in front of the other.

S:

L: Crazy is an ok place to feel. At your core, you are not.

S:

L: Damn. Damn. On a positive note... you were doing fine. focus on the fact that for a good stretch of hours you were ok. you will get there again. What is your plan for today?

S:

L: Cling to the little moments of ok for dear life... even knowing that they're probably temporary. Lose yourself in the ok. Keep me posted- progress... distraction... steps.

S:

L: Of course, of course. You're doing well.

S:

L: Let it be enough. Could be years. Could be never. there is no calculating these things. you will never regret taking this time- however long or short it may be- to figure out you... to be good with you... to know yourself on your own two feet. Embrace the lack of accountability... try new things... eyes wide open and ready to embrace and refigure your worldview on your own terms.

...

You will find that you are a remarkably rare type of person... which will be lonely, perhaps, at first... but eventually will turn into some outrageously beautiful and constant strength. You are your own creation.... always... which can be terrifying or empowering. let it empower. embrace.

written

Eliot

Contentedness and the inability to

be moved

(swayed)

while retaining the ability to feel.

risk.

without becoming vacant.

We are rarely victims- mostly volunteers.

What do you volunteer yourself to?

What are you choosing?

We do the damnedest things to feel a sense of purpose.

I rode late with no knife.

Old people holding hands after[an assumed]all.

We're all rubbish.

We are all teeming with potential

and I ignore stoplights.

real freedom

"of course, there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the "rat race" -- the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing." -David Foster Wallace "This is Water"

I've been surprised to learn that DFW finds resisting isolation so important to personal happiness/freedom/identity.

I don't know much of the guy {yet}, but i had an image of a brilliant, cynical, reclusive genius author man... not a man who sees value in sacrifice for others or pursing authenticity in relationships with others.

This whole idea is a fresh thought. I understand the importance of genuine interaction and love for others... I understand that so much of our identity is contingent upon our relationship with others....

but i always bristle a little when sacrifice for others or concern for others is valorized or privileged above self knowledge... (not that it is in this particular quote... but my first reaction was to read it as such).

it's some kind of balance... paradoxical... but self is so important. so important.

self-knowledge and genuine concern for your own basic needs, in my mind, are the absolute first steps in authenticity in interaction with others.

in other news: best summer of my life and flying by and freedom and eyes wide open and healthy living and wonderful wonderful others

our own light

been

been absent

cause

been in Europe

and

been living