Hard To Explain

I made a bank mistake and it’s putting me in a circle of disarray. I hate mornings that start off this way. I hope that somehow it all works itself out. That being said, today would be a good day to win the lottery. By the time this all unravels I will be lucky if I can pay my phone bill and buy some ramen.

Closing in on the first week at the new job and I am positively.. bored.  Does it make sense that the job I had before was so much more work for so much less pay? Well, this is giving me time to plan for upcoming performances, do some editing and find more Funko Pop Figures, ( Amy Winehouse and Biggie are now available and no this isn’t what put me in potential financial ruin this morning)

As for my health, I feel absolutely great this morning, my jeans are less snug and I finally got enough sleep. Bounded out of bed and onto my feet, boiled some eggs, fixed my hair, walked out of the door with my glasses and my bus money ready. Spent the morning listening to The Strokes and wondered if it was time to send a letter to my  old old old best friend that I haven’t spoken to in almost 10 years, because that’s what you do when you get caught up listening to The Strokes. I never got a chance to see them live but I saw Julian Casablancas and that was hot.  My friend, however, did and I never heard the end of it. I was supposed to be there that night.

The thing is, I used to have a real problem with boundaries. Maybe it stemmed from being an only child  which I wasn’t I just didn’t have access to my sister for most of my life. We were 11 years apart and by the time I was growing up she was on her own and doing her own fabulous thing. Briefly when I was just hitting teenage years she spent some time with me. She had a gallery at the time in the B.A.D. back when nothing was there but Tillman’s, Oline’s and the pop shop. She employed me to work at her gallery which mostly consisted of staring at people and meeting artists and sometimes going with her to other shows. One time I got hit on by an adult and that was crazy. Anyway, I guess as a kid I was always looking for companionship and approval.  I tend to smother people when I get really into them, and I really get into people. I still do, but I maintain my respectful distance now. Don’t get me wrong, I do slip, write love letters to the people I admire and scare them off sometimes.  But I’m trying.

So when I was friends with this person so long ago, I just kind went off the edge. I admired her so much. She was younger than I and just really seemed to have her life in some kind of creative order. But I was wrong, really. She was a hot mess and me being around her just brought out the worst in both of us. There was a lot of binge drinking going on. There were fights and nights and nights away from my family floating in and around bars and strange people’s houses. The thing is, she is most decidedly gay. A lesbian. Her entire existence at that moment in time was her denial of this. She behaved in the most insane ways, got really depressed and finally dropped out. She would get drunk and make out with women and I would be ok with it, of course, but the next day it would be all denial and shit on her part and I knew it was killing her.  I guess the end came when we were doing whippits  in the car downtown in front of the DMA and she stepped out and fell directly on her face on the pavement. Like, no hands out or anything. I thought she had died. Then she began to attack me and ask me why I never took care of her or told her not to do things that got her in so much trouble. I told her I wasn’t her mom, that’s why. She had a huge scar across her face for a month from scraping the sidewalk, and we saw each other one more time. She was with this guy, who was constantly using her for money or her car or whatever he needed at the time. He was really handsome, but totally a closeted guy.  I just shrugged my shoulders and said, oh well, that’s the way she wants it, and I moved on. The thing is I think about her almost every day. She was hilarious; she had this great hearty laugh that reminded me of my mother’s laugh. She had style and could make an outfit out of anything she had. She wore jeans rolled up and a wallet on a chain like a real butch, then sometimes she would wear the flounciest dress and curl her hair and eyelashes like a baby doll. She was too much. I had been younger, and single I would have made her mine, but she probably never would have had me. Maybe not for more than a drunken night.

So, I don’t have to write her a letter now. I just wrote enough to let her go for now. But I still think of her when I listen to The Strokes, go to the thrift store, curl my hair and eyelashes and pass that spot by the DMA where she ate dust.

I don’t know where or who she is anymore. I remember one day she told me it would be like this. That one day she would be a faded memory to me.  I guess sometimes we are just like that in people’s lives. I wonder who has me as a faded memory. I wonder if she even remembers me?

The Gloaming

There’s rain in the city. Every song on my playlist had some kind of reference to rain so I guess the universe, or at least the universe of Dallas needed it today. Rain means everyone has to be closer to each other at the bus stop.  There are dozens of broken umbrellas dripping rain unto the backs of poor commuters and I am one of them. It doesn’t make sense to buy a new one until the season change comes proper and I don’t think that I happening yet. When it happens we will have at least 2 solid days of showers and boom it will be autumn again.

I started my new position yesterday. It’s pretty ok. I have my own cubical but it has real walls. I will be able to put art up when I get a chance to bring some and my twin peaks dolls are comfortable, as well as my Monkee bobbleheads. I have an option to use overhead lighting or lamps. I have been switching back and forth and confusing everyone in the office. The guy next door to me talks and sings to himself constantly but it doesn’t bother me at all. The work is good, highly detailed but not rushed.

We do things accurately first then comes the speed.

 I have to tell myself this all the time because I tend to feel very impatient with myself these days.  I feel frustrated that things aren’t moving fast enough. Remember what I said about waiting for the fuse to be lit? Well, I feel like it’s all damp now. I feel like I’m lighting matches in the rain these days.

Saw Dillon last night. It was a good to see him. He always makes me feel better.

And I got a message from a blog reader.. and it made me want to write today so thanks for that. <3

Your Loving Son has a gig on Saturday at MFA. Wasn’t I just saying how I needed to go to a proper art show again? We are going to rehearse every night until then. I haven’t said that to C yet, but I want to make it happen. I feel like I don’t get enough work in and it is making me impatient for things. I want to be better. Sometimes I listen to Radiohead and I feel like my guts are going to spill out because I want to be so good so badly. I just don’t know how to make things happen. I have my eye on a new synth.. it’s closer to old school with a keyboard. I love my kaos pad, but it’s hard to be intuitive on it and that’s all I really have going for me. That, and I want to noodle and play by ear because that’s what I can do.

God I had the strangest dream. Dillon and I and Harry Mc Nabb were in it. It was a gold evening.. the light was yellow and warm. I kept wondering why we were all hanging out, although I think every time I am with Dillon I do wish Harry was there with us too.  I just feel like they would really like each other. Honestly, I just think everyone would love D. Anyway, then there was Joe Millazo, which btw has a birthday today, which I didn’t know at all so when I woke up I had that oh yeahh what a weird coincidence feeling. Well the dream was shrouded in mystery and I don’t know what really happened if anything but Dillon had on a shirt that looked like moss and I think it’s probably what his idea he was talking about last night was. JM had his hand on his chin in deep thought. Harry had a guitar and his hair was shaved on the side like the first time I met him.  There was trash blowing around like tumbleweeds in the brown dust and we were in some kind of alley way, red brick building behind us. That was it. Oh yeah and a bird shit on Dillon’s sleeve. ( doesn’t that mean good luck?)

The tree in my front yard looks like a hand open to the sky. I never realized this until last night when D and I were having a smoke. Seems so obvious but I never even saw it once.

With the new job and little raise, it looks like I am going to be staying in OC for a bit longer and I am really relieved. I know we should get a smaller place but I am not ready to let go just now. I don’t feel like I should have to anyway because it is my home.

No more weight coming off, I assume as I am not weighing myself. My jeans fit a little snug and that was enough to depress me but godalmighty I feel like I’m all ass right now. I guess a girl has just got to work what she’s got. I am eating what I want today. It’s a good thing I want celery, cucumbers, tinned smoked oysters and cream cheese, cause that’s what I got. Honestly I am bored with eating. It all kinda tastes bland to me. I mean, I would love a cheeseburger..but I digress.

So come and see me on Saturday night. I will be sober until I am done playing then all bets off. Oh the club was fun on Saturday and I managed to behave myself. Made it all through the night without incident. Danced with my boo and had a good time celebrating the new position.

It is only Tuesday tho. I leave you with this my friends.  

yin and yang

I got a promotion!

It’s weird because it’s been a long time since I’ve worked somewhere and have gotten GOOD news.

Usually I got dragged into offices because of BAD things, so yesterday when the Mero Mero called me into his I thought I was about to get fired. I couldn’t figure out what it could be so I actually went.

It was a blur. It was very fast and he had good things to say about me which was awkward but I took it anyway. It’s a promotion with a raise and a cubical of my own. I start Monday.

So who knows what will happen. I hadn’t planned on any kind of advancement here. I was just glad to have a job. Funny how life is, isn’t it?

Well the Amazon is on fire and the president proclaims he’s the king of Jews.

It’s no wonder I smoke so gd much. But seriously, have you tried Cherry Pie?

My daughter is in Peru, but I haven’t spoken with her yet. The amazon is basically right there where she is and it is a heartbreaking situation to be there I am sure. Sometimes I think we are all on autopilot now. There isn’t any way possible that we could be accepting all of this is we were all in our right mind. What do we do? Get outside and protest so someone can mow us over with a car? Maybe if I was a real protester I wouldn’t give a fuck if that actually happened. I mean, people die for causes, right? Would it make a difference now in this world of apathy? People die every day for causes.. it is happening all over the world. Why is America such a joke now?

Don’t answer that.

Do you walk around resigned to this life? How do you celebrate the small moments when everything big is such a pile of steaming crap? I don’t know how people with very small children can continue to stay on course. When my daughter was very young, we are talking before she started school, is when 9/11 happened. She has never really known life before 9/11, and this has always broken my heart. But now I can see that she is as confused as everyone else is about what the hell is going on. I have very smart friends.. and yet all of us are just riding this tsunami of destruction like a rollercoaster heading towards Hell. Yeah I’m being dramatic, but Angry Facebook posts change nothing.

So what do we do? Find some kind of way to help.. someone, anyone with anything at all. I guess, if its small it’s still big to the someone that needed it, right? Tell your friends to vote even though they think it’s a joke. Stand up for people that are being put down. Create safe places for people to take refuge. Celebrate love. Understand that everyone is struggling in some way or another. Champion parents of small children, because in my opinion, this has to be the hardest time in history to be a parent. How do you make them feel safe in a world that is out to get everyone? Pray. Meditate. Make an effort to be kind even though you are angry and confused sometimes and just want to go home and hide.

Maybe that’s just me.

The more I think about the situation the more I come back to the idea of communal living. Living within your means by self-sufficiency and bartering. Kill the almighty dollar and no one has control over anything you do. Love the land and treat her well and she will provide for you. Live with other people that feel that way too and are willing to work together for the good of the community. We could grow and raise our own food.. make our own clothes and anything we need. There are tons and tons of surplus hand offs for anything we really need. This world is full of stuff and we don’t need money to get out hands on the things people don’t want anymore. If we could just get together and stop thinking ME ME ME we could change everything. Stop buying shit. Stop it right now.

Easier typed then done, I know.

I know, I’m just a hippie, but you have to admit, they really had something there for a while, didn’t they?

Well, I pray. I do. So I guess I will keep on praying and maybe acting like a praying person should and be nicer and more helpful to my fellow human beings. It has to start somewhere.

It must.

Burro

My daughter is in Mexico City right now. She will be on her way to Peru soon.

I have a tooth in my head that needs to get pulled, I reckon, but I am so used to acting like everything is ok that I just take aspirin and hope it falls out on its own. I need new teeth..but that’s on the list so it’s ok. I did irreparable damage to my body over the many years of self-neglect. My teeth are a visual reminder of what a bitch depression can be. I hate them.

So babies, my life has devolved into watching game shows and smoking weed, going to the gym, smoking weed and making dishes dirty for my husband to wash. It’s an endless cycle of cat feeding and trips to the bathroom to stare at my reflection in the middle of the night. There is something different that my brain is trying to catch up to. Is it the way my skin settles over my body now, tucked in places that have never had shape? Curious silhouette, almost enviable if it wasn’t on my own body. I put the scale away, up on a tall shelf. I decided I was going to keep on living this way until it became impossible for me to ignore it again. Now I wait, drink cups of black coffee and go to the gym where people stare at the walls and sweat. What do they think about? I think about sex when I go to the gym. It’s the only way I could ever get my ass there on time and consistently.

They say to enjoy the journey. It’s become quizzical and bizarre. I had more fun getting fat and not caring so much.. but that isn’t really true. I had a good journey writing my book. Maybe I need to concentrate on something other than my body? But this seems wrong, afterall I spent my whole life ignoring it. I was thinking about this point yesterday as I stared up at the tall shelf with the scale. My whole life my body was screaming from the inside for me to pay attention to it, and I told it to shut up and eat instead. Now I spend hours reading and studying ways to heal it and nurture and sculpt it. Fat people often know more about this kind of thing than most. We pour over books, websites and diet plans, watch all the new fads and buy the newest products, pills and exercise plans with the ultimate hope that this one thing will be THE one thing that will work.

So this is working. And it’s not. 

But you can’t lose fat that has settled in the brain. The fat that covers the lens of seeing yourself that way all your life. The mirror is always the kind in the fun house, distorting the shape, creating a mystery of what is real and imagined. I woke up at 3am and stared at my reflection last night in the full length mirror in the hall way in the dark. Who is this person? Who does she think she is?

God, I am such a bore.

I was thinking that it has been a long time since I have been to a proper art opening.  I miss seeing the people I often run into there and the free booze and good times.  It think it’s weird how I always looked forward to those nights, planning my outfits around them, showing up for the paparazzi or the oak cliff equivalent of such, and holding my breath the next day and hoping the pictures did my outfit justice. I just ain’t feeling that life much anymore.  We are going to the Blues’ palace this Saturday.  I don’t know what is going to happen, but I have a general idea. Lots of drinking, dancing and some form or other of drama that will need to be addressed the next day thru hangover thoughts and bloody Mary’s.

Or I could be wrong.

Work is a mess and I am spending way too much time trying to figure it out. This wasn’t the deal. I was supposed to get a mindless job that I could do and go home and be creative. Instead I find myself exhausted every day and wondering when this other job offer I have been waiting on for months is going to come, if ever.  Can I subscribe to the idea that everyone is where they need to be ATM?  Why does everything have to happen later and not now and now is some kind of construct we tell ourselves to be happy with? Why bother breathing then? Why bother waking up if later doesn’t matter.

I digress.

Did you know you can go to the city that you live in and get the council to vote on creating a poet laureate position and in theory nominate one self for that appointment? What kind of person would do that? Me. That’s who. But seriously, what have I done to deserve that type of thing except work hungry for years on end. There are other poets that would deserve that type of thing more than I.. but who is going to get that ball rolling? Does Dallas want someone like me representing them in the grand world of poetry? Would they even care? I am just thinking this might be a way to kick start a career that didn’t  settle on working conditions like the ones I am dealing with now. Seriously, I  don’t know how to act in an office where I am not the craziest one.  That, my babies is foreign land for sure.

I had a dream last night that I found a whole season of MASH that I had never seen. I was so freaking happy.

We finished GLOW season 3 and it was a monster. I can’t believe I have to wait another year to see what happens now. Great job of writing, great story lines and great acting.  I want to be a Gorgeous Lady of Wrestling when I grow up. Maybe a faded starlet. I should ask Dillon to make me a costume. 

One with my ass hanging out.

I am getting to be ok with my ass. I’m getting to be ok. Now if I could just stop thinking I’m not.  

The Weather Report

I get this wistful feeling when I listen to Simon and Garfunkel. I think it goes back to when my first bf moved to California to become a writer and he made me a mix tape to say goodbye. That was the first time I had ever heard Homeward Bound, and The Only Living Boy in New York. I get the news I need from the weather report..

He ended up working at a movie lot painting animation cells for a movie about a dog version of Rodney Dangerfield that never came out, I believe.  He wrote a few desperate letters from then. They were full of longing and loneliness which I took personal even though there was no way for me to know what it felt like to leave home at that point. I desperately wanted out of my situation but I wasn’t ready then. He didn’t really miss me. He missed home.

When I finally left home it was it a quick run out of the front door into the arms of a guy I didn’t really like. When you feel desperate and lonely you will do anything to not be abandoned by the only person you’ve ever met that actually likes to spend time with you.  He was my first really big mistake. Sometimes I look back on that time and wonder who the hell I was. I’m sure wasn’t me. 

Transitions. There is no way to stop changing, stop growing, stop moving., and yet these days I feel like I am at a standstill. I feel like a firecracker waiting for my fuse to be lit. I feel like I am waiting for a spark to ignite my trail so I can blast off. I feel like the cannon that is being maneuvered into the perfect position before it is fired to obliterate. You feel me? You understand that it’s all just cycles and movement and new avenues to travel and leave one reality behind for another.. or something like that. Or something.

I hung out with Harry last night. I felt like I needed to be around him to keep me going. I wasn’t feeling anything really at all l but numb. It wasn’t a bad weekend, but I feel like I squandered most of it wasting time living up inside my head.  I guess it’s too hot outside. I guess I didn’t go work out as much as I normally do. I guess I’m just waiting.

What do you do when someone you love sees you walk in and frowns? It happened a few times last night with 3 different people.  People I love and who I know love me. What happened? Am I really that intolerable to be around? Are people reading my blog and getting a load of the crazy and pulling away? Am I just paranoid right now? Am I seeing things that aren’t there?

Hold back. Hands up

Invisible walls stand tall

Between the you and me

That we all see

I can’t smile

Or frown

In this fucked up town

Fingernail picking

Side eye swearing

look me in the eye

Smoke exhale and

Wonder

I need shoulders to brush against

Stories no matter how untrue

Cups of water

Spilled bottles and

Consonants cues

Microphones feedback and

Barstool pews

My legs to find you

And drag you

Under the tables

Dreaming

Hold up Stand Tall

Your belt loops

And pockets

Tabs of paper doll

Clothing

Falling

Like ashes

Stale poetry and

Rumors

Galore

I need some stimulation

Baby

I need some fuel

I need some fire

Experiments in sobriety this weekend.. I need to clear my head. Maybe this fuse can’t be lit because it’s too soggy again. I saw burlesque on Saturday. Big beautiful sexy women with real tits and asses and talents and style. I’m fascinated by the process of watching women disrobe for fun. It’s not like a topless bar all ripe with desperation and alcohol. It’s more like a performance art and fun.

There was a big woman.. beautiful  in robes of fantastic colors twirling under purple lights . I think I might be beautiful too. That’s what she made me feel. I think I might be sexy too. I think you should be flummoxed and nervous when I’m around.. I think you should be proud I write poetry about you and call you a muse. That’s what I think.  But maybe I’m wrong

You know that it would be untrue

You know that I would be a liar

If I was to say to you

Hon we couldn’t get much higher

Then we went to a party where I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t drink. Everyone was nice.

It was late

And we were talking about aliens

And God.

For the time I felt invisible

And wanted to run to the food table

To fill my invisible body up

With something real

But all I found was sugar

The culprit to all my fears

In chocolate frosting

Sexier than any woman’s bosom.

Then we went home. It was a good night.

Fast forward or back. I scrubbed the tub and toilet, washed the dishes and swept and mopped. Folded clothes. Bought a bowie t shirt at the thrift and considered growing out my hair again.

I Waited for the right moment to talk to you but it never happened. Frown. Ghosted my friends at the bar and didn’t turn back. Wrapped ribs up and folded blankets over my swollen belly to sleep. It was dark and cold and the bed held us in the palm of its hand.

Girlfriend in a coma

I know it’s serious.

Well, dear readers.. I got to a point in the last 2 days that I thought my time on earth was numbered. I was taken down by a severe migraine headache that lasted at least 24 hours putting me out of commission starting Wednesday night thru Thursday late evening. I was in bed most of the time, trying to figure out what was the cause of such calamity in my poor eye socket and brain. It was a beautiful day to be stuck in bed dying but I did my best to survive and here I am! Another day, another blog post.

I couldn’t manage to miss Dennis’s bday so I got my wobbly head out to Bishops and stepped foot inside of Revelers Hall which was much chiller than I thought it would be. I even ran into one of its proprietors whom are really not high on my list of people. It goes back a long way like most of the beef in my life. Let’s just say without this person there would be no ‘development’ in Oak Cliff. And by ‘development’ I mean the bulldozing of many fine working class neighborhoods to establish the lego land of ugly brick condos and apartments that have taken over OC like the plague. I promise, I wouldn’t have gone for anyone other than Dennis.  I’ve had lots of nasty things to say about those ‘development people’ and how they have reaped the benefits of the plans they laid down so many years ago when I was a barking dog at their heels just generally being a bothersome voice where everywhere they went they were welcomed with pie eye dollar signs coming up all over the place. Someone’s made a lot of money off of all this.. and it isn’t anyone that has lived in OC longer than 10 years.

Anyway! It was great to kiss Dennis’s face and see his lovely family and friends. We listened to music and I filled up the blank space in my brain with lots of Top Chico and a few smokes. It was steamy slick outside. Bishops was hopping for a Thursday night, and as usual I saw about 5 new businesses that seemed to pop up overnight. Shrugs. I don’t ever go out there anymore.  I just go to El Jordan for caldo de res because it tastes so much like ama’s and because I love the owners so much.  Ran into Richard who is always a delight to see and talk with. His new film is really making the scene. I’m proud to have worked with him. I saw lots of musicians that came out to play for Dennis, and I even ran into my exbest.. it wasn’t bad.. which got me thinking.

I miss her.

Can I be honest here? Because there are too many messed up things about what happened and I don’t want to get into it, but damn it, I miss having a close girlfriend. But the things that happened make it impossible for me to trust a relationship with pretty much anyone now.. I feel like I am always holding my hand up just enough to keep everyone a safe distance away.  I know I have hurt people with my standoffishness. What they don’t understand is that I am still very hurt!! Who want’s to open up a wound again and let someone pour salt in? Is it really that dramatic? Am I?  Yes?

She still knows me. My very essence. I can catch her up and she knows where my head is when I tell her things, I don’t have to explain anything to her. She just fucking knows and it makes me crazy that I feel better when I talk to her but I am still afraid of laying it all down and saying, ok, we fucked up but let’s just be friends again. What does that make me? A pushover? Fuck that. I can’t. I just can’t.

It wasn’t a little thing. It was a really big fucking deal. Think of the biggest betrayal. Now multiply that times a million, because I fucking gave her all the ammunition to take me down.  Willingly. Under the influence of many illicit things and ideas.  And she’s lonely now.. I can tell. But so am I.

So am I.

So I am back at work today, with the fluorescent lights out above me. There is work to be done, but interestingly enough everyone has been very concerned for me today. It feels nice to be cared for. It may or may not be my work bestie’s last day. She had another job come thru and it is offering more money so I hope she takes it and is happy. I will miss her but I am happy if she can bring in more dough.

I’m just sitting here, trying to make it happen today. Tonight I wash a weeks worth of dishes and sleep early. Tomorrow we are going out with J.O and C to a burlesque show. I am excited about that.

Sunday is Avant, babies. I will most surely be hung over on Monday morning. Worth it. Until next time...

bye bye baby goodbye

James - Laid (Version 2)

Weight set point, dropping inches and why I said eff it I am eating fruit.

I’m obsessed. I know it isn’t a healthy spot for me now, mentally but I am trying to let go of obsessive thoughts and just be happy with the body I have right now. It works well, It feels good. I can push it and make it do things it’s never done before. I can wear cute clothes, and walk longer and faster than I ever have before. I can feel muscles growing in my legs and my body is beginning to look more sculpted in areas that have never been defined before. I have a clavicle.

But I haven’t lost a damn pound in over a month now.

I don’t see this as a punishment.. mostly. I feel like my body is having its way with me after years of pushing and yo yo ing up and down that it’s finally had it with me and my ways.

The fact is I am eating healthier than I ever have before. I am eating reasonable portions and I am working out at least 3 times a week, barring any injuries or sickness. I am on a modified keto, what some people call dirty keto, because I refuse to stop eating fruit. I am only eating berries right now.. because it is summer and I need some fruit in my damn life. I can’t even fathom that the reason I am not losing a pound is that I eat some berries every few days. Every meal is meat/veg and sometimes some cheese in-between. I make dinners full of fibrous vegetables. It’s delicious and I know I feel good after I eat it.   

I am now wearing a Large. Not an Extra Large, or an Extra Extra Large like I did for years. I have gone down a bra size and am down a few pants sizes. But no pounds. Not one. In fact this morning I gained a half pound.

O my god this is so boring.

The party was great. All that worrying for nothing, the B didn’t show up, neither did her consort. I behaved nicely but had a few drinks and tokes like usual. I spent a lot of time talking with Zim about music, Harry about writing and Hawkeye about old times. He told me something that made my night. I don’t think I want to share it because it is totally self indulgent and superfluous, which are, btw my two favorite descriptors in life. I should have called this blog by that name.

So lately I have been feeling a certain way.  You know I’ve been doing this poetry gig for over 20 years.. much more than that I think now we can almost say 30. I have consistently maintained a space for open mic and have supported and attended many in the DFW area, some for years on end. I have done festivals and variety shows. I opened for the Goo Goo Dolls once. ( not as stellar as it sounds) I was in a movie, a documentary and on the news a few times. I have been published in many fine collections, have won contests with my work, and have finally been published on my own. So what’s the problem? I guess sometimes I feel that it all isn’t enough. It only takes a few months out of the loop to be forgotten or pushed aside. Also, all these years I have known people that have never come to one thing, event or show I have produced or starred in.. I get it. It’s not everyone’s bag, right? I don’t go see death metal shows even if I love the performer.. because I can’t listen to that kind of stuff. It washes over me. Ok, so I’m not upset with that. I am upset sometimes that these people who have never supported or shown any interest in what I do creatively, all the sudden show up and want in on the show. Uhmmm.. am I being shitty? Probably. What do I care if you just started writing a few years ago and have a few books out already? I guess some people don’t have to work so hard at it. I guess you can just wake up one day and decide you want to be a published poet. I mean, to hell with getting booed off a stage or preempted for a slurpee drinking contest ( true Story) or asked to a party without the knowledge you are the entertainment ( this has happened..but I promise you, I did not perform). Maybe you don’t have to struggle with day jobs that kill your soul all day long to pay your bills so you can go shlep it over to an open mic where you don’t even have enough money for a beer to keep you entertained while you wait to perform for a crowd that doesn’t even want to hear you anyway. Maybe you don’t have to work with neumerous people that think their shit don’t stink and then have to walk around them for the rest of your life like a land mine because they or you have it in for you or them? Maybe you don’t need to get slandered online, in person, by word of mouth and get gigs taken away from you just because someone has some beef with you and you miss out on a stipend or a pass the hat that will help you get by. Maybe you don’t have to give your book away for free because hey no one has any money anyway so why bother trying to make a living by your art. And my favorite.. have a show that everyone walks out of while you are on stage. It happens.

So you are fronting that you are in the know. You belong here. Forgive me if I’m not warming up to that idea right away. Maybe you could come out and support something that has nothing to do with you once and a while. Maybe you can stop kissing ass for a minute and listen to someone else’s poetry.

Maybe you can stop looking for a label to stamp on yourself and just support one another.

Maybe I’m just being shitty. Probably.

My new favorite thing is cottage cheese with blueberries and blackberry sugar free jam mixed in it. It’s probably a zillion carbs and a million calories. IDGAF

My friend Martin is in Columbia and I wish I could see out of his eyes right now. I told him he was smart to not tell me when he was leaving because I would have hidden in his suitcase.  I miss talking with him and can’t wait to hear all about the trip. Columbia seems like some kind of wonderland in my brain. I can’t even imagine what being out of this country for an extended amount of time feels like. I want out. Bad.

Tejana is finally done with the tour. We finished on Saturday. I plan on using the money I get for it to pad my savings.. since there isn’t anything in there anymore. I am sure there are things I could use it on.. but I really want a vacation by the end of this year.. and NOLA is looking good, or NYC again. I am up for a promotion at work and if I get it.. I’m staying on for the raise. I really hope it happens. This place isn’t bad, but everyone here is bored so they gossip constantly. I already made some mistakes. But at least they are entertained by me. That, in fact, is how I always want to be. Entertaining.

Avant is Sunday. I can’t even wait.

Thursday is Dennis’ Birthday at Revelers Hall. I can’t wait to kiss his face.

I bought a new dress and even tho no one has commented on it all day so far, I feel pretty in it.

Score one for the gipper. Sometimes happy thoughts happen.

Still reading Harry’s Vacuum stories. Still being blown away,

Honestly, I'm just being shitty. Alfter all where would I be without people that were accepting of me when I started? I'm sure I got on everyone's nerves at the start, and I am sure I still do.

Maybe I just need to eat some more fruit. 

Wicked Wicked Feleena

This week has been a work riot. I don’t even want to tell you what I am looking at for today. Usually I am pretty happy about Friday. Today is just like any other day around here. I don’t want to complain. I didn’t have a job for a good long time and I was bored to death and broke because of that. Anyway, I apologize I haven’t kept up with things around here. How was your week?

Oh Babies.

I wrote a poem about El Paso and it’s been haunting me for days. There comes a point when you can’t ignore what is going on anymore. Love poems are nice, confessional pieces, even funny things to keep people upbeat.. but sometimes you have to write about what the hell is going on so that people can stop and think, or cry or dream about something better. It aint all that, my poem, but I’m glad I wrote it.

We are quite possibly going to be moving out of N OC proper. We just can’t afford it anymore. I don’t see getting paid any more than I am now any time soon. I knew it was going to happen eventually, but I kept hoping something would change. This means downsizing again, getting rid of lots of things.. my books.. my books… it’s time to let them go and this makes me sad. The other stuff isn’t important.. but there is so much of it all. There is also this nagging feeling that I should have been doing better by now and not having to do this again. I am almost 50 and here we are again, throwing out the stuff we worked hard to get, letting go of things we love and moving away from all the places we’ve grown to love the past 20 years. This is the life of an artist. The day job face becomes a mask and all other things fade away. At least we have each other. At least our kid is on her own and doing well. I shouldn’t be such a brat, yo, at least I have the chance to move and am not getting kicked out. That could happen if we don’t move again soon.

Tonight is the big party. Navigation plans in motion. Outfit picked out. Making a conscience effort to not get hammered and make a fool of oneself. Just for once I want to act like a grown ass woman and make it home in one piece. Is it even possible? I feel like there are going to be landmines everywhere. Or shit piles. Harry said he was coming and that if I felt anxious he would talk to me about writing and we would be OK together. I usually love parties. I don’t know.

I have a performance Saturday with Tejana Cosmica. It will be good to see the ladies again. I saw Tamitha at Mad Swirl and she looked radiant. I’m glad she got out of the city for a while and she still even has her tan from the island. She went to Hawaii with her family and they camped on the beaches. It looked amazing. I love that family. I see them and they inspire me to so much.

 I just keep slipping off the rocks going up the hill. I guess. But I always keep climbing.

So, I’m in a rut.  Maybe today will change that. I am forever hopeful.

Harry’s book is amazing and I think about reading it when I am sitting at work. I am going to find a picture of us we took about 4 years ago that we goofed about doing our ‘ author picture faces’ because we both knew we were going to be published one day… and now we are. 

We did it, Harry. Did you know if you change the r’s in your name to p’s then you’d be Happy? I just typed that on accident but it was a Happy Accident. A Harry Accident.

I missed an event last night.  I don’t think anyone even noticed and that is perfect.

Happy Friday. I will report from the trenches tonight if I stick with my plan and behave.

If not, you will hear the horrible account next week.

Here is that picture of me and Harry. 2015

Bestie - A poem

Bestie

The truth about it

is that it’s all armor now

slashed scars

have grown over themselves

hardened

Into a new kind of shell

That embraces and

shields 

and when I walk into a room

it

gives them something

to notice

so that everyone knows

you changed me.

This cape of skin

Shrinking away

Under hands

Gives devilish delight

Eats away at itself

Night after night

Feeding on  

The events that should have never happened

and

The words that should have never been said

The lips that should have never kissed

re-missed..

is all now

Food for strength

And wasting away

I click my nails in anticipation

I whirl my hair and count the pounds

calorie for carb

energy displaced

And when you are near

I am a ghost

a shadow of myself

A silent cobweb

That will blow over

Like cigarette smoke

Hand waved

Lilting away

My steps vanish

To dust

No thud behind them

No moving waves

Just stillness

Solid

Quiet

My body is armor now

Strong but invisible

Ice cold but silent

Don’t look for me

Speak my name

Or pause in memory

The wounds you gave

Turned from black to blue

To purple to grey

To gone

Like you

To me

Like you

To me

If I shrink shrink away

maybe 

so 

will the pain.

FYI

This is my friend Harry. Harry writes the blog Socail Onanism. He is a friend of mine and he has just published a wonderful book from Free Tongue Press called Vacuum Stories. I am really excited to read it because from the first moment I heard Harry read I wanted to have his words in my hands. I am so proud of my friend, and I am happy that he is happy right now. Go to Amazon and buy a chunk of his brain and a hunk of his heart.

More Blog Later. So Much Work. 

But first, a martini, please

I guess I am still recovering from Saturday because I feel shredded. This week is two open mics, Mad Swirl first and foremost is tomorrow and Pleasant Groove with the Tejana’s featuring is Saturday. Maybe getting back to performance will wake me up .

Today I start working with a trainer at the gym. What? That sounds so bizarre.

Anyway.

Friday night is a big party that I’m sure I’m going to feel awkward at because  my ex best friend will be there and blah blah blah I can’t not go out because people that hurt me are going to be there.. blah blah blah.. I’m not going to starve myself all week or get shitfaced drunk to deal with it that night. I am going to be a grown ass woman and have a splendid time. *Start hyperventilating now*

Saturday going to see a friend’s band at another friends new club. So much hopping and bopping as it were. Everyone is doing something and things are all very fab. I am starting a project with Dillon, I mean it was only about time. He drew the most amazing picture and I am totally using it for my next book cover. I am going to have to stop blogging so much so I can get my poetry in order. Not. This blog keeps me going. Talking into space instead of keeping it jammed up inside. All of you, my faithful readers.. all 5 of you.. I adore you.

I listen to Alan Alda’s podcast every Tuesday. It’s about communication and it’s delightful to listen to his voice while I am usually neck deep in work. It’s no secret that I love his voice and that it calms me. I love to watch M*A*S*H at night before bed so I can sail off to sweet dreams with Hawkeye steering the ship into the clouds. Yeah, I have a crush on Hawkeye. I know if he was a real person he would never date me, or look my way, but I would try desperately to get him to notice me. I’d even join the army during the Korean war.

I’ve thought about writing him a fan letter, which I know sounds ancient, but I have a feeling he would respond. Maybe send me a signed picture of Hawkeye and write it long hand so I could rub my fingers over the indentions the pen made. But if I did and he didn’t I hope it wouldn’t sour me on the whole thing. I’ve written a few fan letter, and have sent even less. I am going to keep meditating on it and decide soon if I should or not.

On a completely diff note, my boss is def bipolar. It makes me sad. There are people that work here that have it in for her and I just can’t because I know how it is, and I know what it feels like when you are out of control and you can’t just be normal no matter how you try. The more you obsess about being normal the harder it becomes, and the arms start flying around, the anger sets in and the wild mood swings take hold. She may not know this, but I am on her side, even though she kinda scares me sometimes. I hope she is getting the help she needs to give her some relief. I suspect all of her dr visits are for this and I am in the background giving her all the applause because the hardest part is taking care of it, giving up that perceived control and letting it get treated instead of it taking you on that wild ride. Well the ride can be great, fun, exciting.. but sometimes.. it’s not.. it’s downright terrifying.

I write this blog because I want people to know we are all out there. We all have to get up and make our way in this world even when our brain is telling us to give up, show out, or disregard our own health. Our sickness tells us we are not worth it or we beat ourselves up when we can’t control it all. We get up every day and keep staying alive when all we want to do is go to bed, over eat or day drink.  Sometimes we do those things anyway.. afterall this is the land of excess.. and that isn’t a good reason but people allow it anyway. I write this blog because every day is a struggle even when I smile and laugh and seem well adjusted and ‘normal’ and this doesn’t make me any better than anyone else that feels the same way and can’t hide it anymore. Actually I envy them. Of course I could be kidding myself. I could actually look crazy to everyone! HAH!

I write this blog because I am 46 years old and I just DGAF what anyone thinks about me anymore. This is who I am. Take me or leave me.. I’m going on.

But first, a martini.

Flat as a

I laid low this weekend and it was OK.

I mean, I could tell you the truth and just admit I had a crazy drinking episode on Friday that rendered me mostly useless for the remainder of the weekend, but we should keep some mystery between us don’t  you think?

I saw Dillon on Friday night. He was having a tough time and I was glad we ran into him. There was a DJ at the TX but only a few people there to dance. I danced. I drank. I ran into some people that seemed thrilled that I was there.. I got introduced as a poet, a very famous poet. I let it go to my head. They bought me many drinks..

The rest is an unsettling blur.

I don’t really want to talk about it. Thus I avoided all phone calls for the remainder of the weekend as I laid in bed and try to come back to life. I feel like the older I get the harder surviving these ridiculous nights become.  The night just stretched and stretched into some cosmic joke I never seem to get to the punch line fully lucid. Do you know what I mean? How am I supposed to feel when someone thinks I’m a famous anybody and buys me drinks?

But it isn’t all that bad. I just miss my confidant. I have always been able to vent somehow about these nights, but now it just all seems so sad. I am going to stop. Promise.

I gave the 2 of them a copy of my book. I don’t even know if they cared.

Saturday was recovery. I stayed in bed until 3 pm. I ate pancakes with butter and syrup and it was glorious. Sometimes you just have to dig in and remember why everyone loves pancakes so much. It’s because they are so good, especially from Norma’s.

We watched the movie Leaving Las Vegas, which I don’t recommend watching while nursing the most excruciating hang over ever. It didn’t go so well for me, but I thought the woman lead was incredible. I didn’t like the character of the drunk, probably because I saw myself in it so much at that point. No, I don’t drive around swilling handles of vodka or have the DTs when I stop. But there was this attitude of

complacency with his own suicidal behaviors. He just gave in and was on a mission that was more pointed than most. It was the vehicle for the movie, the device.  He was more than a just a bum human being with an obvious disease, but I still didn’t like him and wasn’t sad at all when he died. (spoiler alert, but dude, c’mon) I didn’t like the way his illness prevented even the minutest amount of compassion for the woman who agreed to stay with him throughout his elongated suicide mission. And then again, why did she stay? She was lonely. She’d rather be with that kind of mess than be alone. Oh and she was a hooker and Roseanne’s sister was her landlord.  The End.

Today I started new supplements. A MCT oil to help kick me into keto faster, and a collagen powder for endurance and better skin and hair. They say it also help keep you satiated and fuller longer, which remains to be seen. Since I fell off a little this weekend I hope I can jump back in fully this week starting today.  Breakfast was Coffee, Water, supplements, a boiled egg and a piece of fathead bread.  I wish it was pancakes.

I got my new pop rocks figure in the  mail this weekend and it is Morrissey and it is adorable. I hope Ken Mills forgives me for moving my figure next to Morrissey for a while.

Wednesday is Mad Swirl. I’m anxious but I can’t wait to see my friends. This job has taken a lot out of me, it’s time to go refill.

Thus is Monday’s boring blog. Thanks for hanging, and I’m sure it’s only going to get worse. Screw Monday. There aren’t enough pancakes for me.

Everything’s coming up Thrillhouse

And just like that, kablamm.

I didn’t make it out last night because of what has become the term ‘fridge fuckery’. Unfortunately the saga continues and it looks like we are still wrestling with a broken fridge, this being the second one in a row now. My frozen food has rot and had to be thrown out.. blah blah blah blah blah blah. Maybe by this evening things will be resolved. I went to the gym in lieu of the reading and was ignoring all the happy shiny pictures of all the people I love  and some haters) under the same roof having a good time. I think it’s what the kids call FOMO, right? Well I had ALL the FOMO while I was sweating and stretching and trying to erase away the disappointment. I had planned on a late evening with my dear friend Dillon, who I never see but by the time the gym, the fridge fuckery and the disappointment set in, I flaked out.  I mean, I messaged to say I couldn’t go, so it wasn’t really a flake.. but still. Dillon is a fascinating new friend I have made recently from the Avant group. He is talented, exciting, fashionable and very very sweet. I mean, he has the sweetest disposition that he couldn’t shake if he wanted to.. it just  IS what he IS. I also sense there is a great ball of energy inside of him that is just about to burst out.. his talent and instincts are boundless and I really love being around him. He is younger than I, about the age of my daughter I would reckon.. and I have some insecurity about that. I am almost 50 years old and I guess I feel my age more these days. He gives me the big PSHAW when I go on about these things.. and I believe him when he says it isn’t a big deal and I do think he really likes being around me so it’s a big thing, guys. I don’t have the best luck with friendships.. I think I got drunk one night and told him some things about all that mess and he just listened and told me he would never do those things to me..and I believe his sweet soul. I just wish I could muster up enough energy to see him more often. Weeknights take a lot out of me now. Honestly I just like to go home, smoke a bowl and watch the tube after I have a good dinner and workout. I have become so old and boring. But the weekends are something else.

What do you have planned for the weekend? Anything fun?  I’ve got some mischief simmering.

Oh so here are the kablamms!

Kablamm #1

I got invited to my first happy hour here at the office. I have been here now for 2 months and have finally broken the social bubble wide open. My at-work-bestie told me these guys are wild and raunchy so I feel like I am about to be truly at home. We go out tomorrow after work and I really can’t wait. I see this as an accomplishment for myself socially. I haven’t scared anyone off and that is a big thing. Yay! DRINKS!

Kablamm #2

I just got offered a HUGE gig for Halloween night! I have worked with this group before and as a poet have received so much good feedback and followers from the past events. It’s a big one this time.. really fucking huge. There are going to be several hundreds of people in attendance and I am so excited to try something new, but smoking hot. I have to call on some musician friends to see if they can work with me on this and my mind is churning with the possibilities. Will you save some time for me on October 31? I will be announcing all the details as soon as they become firmed up and official, but I can’t help teasing you all. It’s going to be HUGE I tells ya.

So just like that.. things happen. This morning I was glumly riding the bus to work thinking I screwed up everything by stepping down from the board, and isolating myself from events lately and that maybe people have forgotten about me. I love it when I am wrong. Now I can pull the pots off the backburners and turn up the heat.. It’s time to start bubbling, babies. The Bitch is Back.