24

Heat

Summer of work, summer of play. Summer is here either way.


60+ hour work weeks. A five and an eight year-old. I didn't see this summer happening this wildly. I assumed Eric and I would be spending most of our nights drunk, gliding like electric jellyfish from porch to porch in a tender and spineless duo-absorbed nature. But alas I have found my work ethic and will continue to be pushed to the brink. Screams, dirty dishes, grubby little boy hands, fights, tears: foster parenting. It's not all bad. When the time comes for me to poop out a baby, I'll be the best damn candidate for mothering there is. In the meantime I get to enjoy being at home more, gardening, reading, little things. And however much I think I hate being here on bad days, I do love it. Examples:

Time to make my own meals again!

My first harvest!

Wings have finally spread, more petals haveopened. I've realized that life is work. The best part is how willing I am to keep moving forward. I don't know where the road will take me and I can't say I even have a vague idea of what will happen. "The leafy bold plants open their large leaves and enjoy what is left of Summer." Words that came out of a black box of technology into the clouds above my head. And I couldn't say it better.

In other news, of all the things so bittersweet, he's the first thing I see in the the morning and the last thoughts I have in my sleep. Everyone in town's got his number, everyone thinks they've got him pegged right.

There's no sure footing while caught in the fangs of a tornado sprawl.

momentum for the sake of momentum.

I want pharaohs. Somehow there's only men.

Faster than the speed of sound, I am left fatherless. My soul is dangling outside my mouth. It's never enough; I am a tornado of love. My love has never lived indoors, I've had to drag it home by force with hired hounds at both my wrists, damp and bruised with strangers on my lips. I can't give up acting tough, it's all I'm made of. I can't scrape together quite enough to ride the bus to the outskirts of the fact that I need undying love. A tornado filing past, miles down, miles away from home, cheek constantly frozen to the floor. Thoughts dry above on the ceiling, in dreams I find long shadows and gunpowder eyes. Like sounds of a humming helicopter, blades of a fan warn this child to wake. Come on sorrow, take your own advice, hide under the bed, turn out the lights, the stars this night in the sky are ringing out. You can almost hear them: "Close your eyes now kid, evening teeth are lit." There is a forcefield around my frosty hips, there is time for my tonuge and lips. If it's madness, let it run. If this blood runs crazy, I will not water it down. A warning call quiet within, a voice trying harder than imaginable: "She is the centrifuge that throws spires to the sun. She is the Sisteen Chapel painted with a gun." Soon the meddling sky and these snowy eyes will sway to something more than regret.

205 1/2 East St.

I need to start recording things. or at least things that are said. I'm debating whether to go back and remember the past three days and all the nonsensical wonderful ambrosia shared or just move forth with what's going on. either way, an idea that needs to be put into action.

why not catch- up.
Day 1: move in. looking great. scary to smooth in 2 hours flat. whiskey. talk. bar. talk. whiskey. talk. sensual guitar and singing. 4am. macaroni eaten with measuring cups. bathroom time. the piercing of an infected nose bubble. cigarette run. sweet bedtime talk. 5am. good. night.

Day 2: snow. awake. crawl into man's bed. day of thrifting, lunch, insane man grocoery shopping, funnies all day. new books. silverware finds. man works. lady reads and naps. night number 2 of drinking. talk. home. talk. reads and reads. talk. wine and guitar. man tisdale drunk. I laugh. bathroom time. talk. joint toothbrushing. joint hairbrushing. joint laughing. bedtime talk. good. night.

Day 3: so much snow. so cold. still so cold. heat up, but still so cold. must find good slippers. crawl into man's bed. work. man works. dinner with girls. naps. drinks with our first hosting get-together. too much politic talk. bar. old apartment partying. julia confides and cries. 24 hour taxi. home. beer. soup making for 3 hours. celery, mushroom, onion, apple. bust. 4am cigarette run. bathroom time. joint slumber readying. bedtime talk. good. night.

pretty great. much better than expected. we'll see what happens. in the meantime I'm going to continue enjoying a relationship of happiness. and buy more things for the house. life, I'm better than ok.

twenty-four

1/‎5/‎2011
"and still, through lengthy vigils, stuck in never-drying mud, he was held up by his dreams."
- Sterling

In the stellar vicinity of my young life I have never felt more of an endearing crave for all that is the Earth. The past twenty-four years have maneuvered me through different towns, cities and environments- looking for “home,” all the while falling in love with the unknown as the pilot. I've listened to voices loud and voices soft, living to hear all I can possibly consume, most of the time not digesting information until much later. I feel as if the situations put in front of me- terrifying, terribly consequential, monumentously disheartening and disregardingly joyous, have not only been tests but stepping stones in a skirted recovery.

Eagerly dancing upon the end of twenty-three years alive I am finally able to view a clear path laid in front of me with the most valuable lessons learned:

1. We are spiritual machines with capabilities beyond imagination.
2. Through practice we shape the future and discover our own futures and destinies.
3. The future is now and the only way to survive is with a smile and an openly kind heart.


It was determined through personal and painfully recent life-changing events how exact and definite inner strength is. Generally when using the word "strength," I'm confronted and severely discomforted with its unwavering confusion. Strength is personal. Strength is a vast mystery due to its unknown whereabouts in life- therefore I hesitate to wrap so much into its shades of grey. But in this elected chapter of life, it is what I feel: strong. With this mysterious strength, I have adapted a settling decision- a dire thought- a finale of resolve: I will not let the fuse run out, for it is not an option. Night to day, change is the surprise that barrels and glides full-throttle. And after years of wasteful fighting and obscene discomfort, I have come to finally believe in the baffling and cryptic element of surprise. For it is always surprise, never demise. To finally look at life and see that every movement and bend means something is revolutionary. To me it is not a matter of religion nor hope. Hope is another word too often used to describe a semi-bland overzealous feeling. It is about readiness of the heart. It is about the will to stay tuned into your own mind even when you think it's electric with fear and incompetence.

We are humans. I have come to that conclusion as humans, nature has deliberately fooled us into thinking we need to be the greatest. I have mulled over and suffered through the recognition that there is no such thing. However to argue with such a large thought, I have branched into a cognitive state of awareness of this competitive human nature. To be the greatest is to live gracefully without a trace of hatred. To be open. To be conscious. To hold every situation with enough regard to gain something. The greatest does not offer anything more than the self-awareness of kindness- words that should automatically be coupled. While considering human nature and expectations of overall futuristic paths, I have realized I am not expected to create robotic children with brains to explain everything and consume offices of high regard, but to pour everything good I am- warm blood and warm laughter, into a rushing world surging with beauty. The living proof is love.

All in all, it’s been a fucking rollercoaster. It’s been a trip. It’s been one hell of a tale. That in itself is enough to thrill me for the rest. I’ll keep dreaming with my heart on my sleeve never forgetting vulnerability is key. So let it be made public, front row and center, it’s time to draw the curtains. Cheers to twenty-four.

rising from the mechanical feathers

july 15th, 2010-

when she put her head down, telescopic plants burst through her ears.


at the end of the day I am only one woman. at the end of the day I cannot make anyone happy nor give any more practicality, discernment or enlightenment than I have. at the end of the day I believe in love above all else and agree to keep the moon safe in my young and fevered heart. at the end of the day my comfort resides in bold overzealous passion and exquisite wit. at the end of the day I willingly choose my decree, look to the sky and repeat, "I am only one woman, I am only one woman. I am woman."

I have sweat in my neck folds. I have sweat lingering on my groin(s?) I have sweat behind my legs. I have sweat consuming every hair follicle on my head. I have sweat streaming down my back. I am one sweaty bitch swimming in awful miserable humidity. I. Fucking. Miss. Air. Conditioning. my summer of sweaty hippie sin.

w.w.j-ho.d

slide down your stairs to the heated streets; the sun has left us with slippery feet.

long since passed since I've graced the bionic cryptic slabs of technology with my verbose swagger.
decorah, decorah, decorah. life of a nonny in decorah. I have my own room. I have red and tan walls. my posters are up. my life is full of drunken nights of heated july nights and random men showing attention for the big hair. the black now has turned red on the side. vibrant. I guess. men really have been on my mind intensely lately. I think partly because of age, partly because of .. the sexiness. I feel as though lately I've exuded a certain attainability-sometimes good, sometimes bad. not in a promiscuous way (hopefully.) maybe it's loneliness. no no, it's for sure loneliness.

"the brown waves of fog toss up to me, twisted faces from the bottom of the street, and tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts. an aimless smile that hovers in the air and vanishes along the level of the roofs"

it's been good though, it really has. I have had one of the best weeks of my life. spin the bottle with ten-fifteen 20 something year-old hippies, loving, sweating, drinking, innocent, unadulterated?, fun. it was fun. I'm having a great time with leah and julia learning. It's been crazy, that's for damn sure. beyond crazy, wildly playful, although stressful in a lot of senses. just so much going on in my head daily. so so so much. I feel soon enough, before I even know it, I'll be settled in other senses.. so living loudly now to the fullest is very ok. (as long as I don't lose my mind completely in the midst of the action. which, I feel I would realize before it happened.) sigh. growing up. trying to keep it together. trying not to disappoint, all the while remembering the number one person and priority I should really care about is myself. the earth, environmental problems, family, responsibilities, yes.. they are important- but they're not nearly as important as my sensibility of emotion and sanity. not nearly. and I feel therein lies the problem with a lot of people I've met recently, or may have just realized recently. with that said, 23, almost 24 has been the age to realize a lot. a lot, a ridiculous amount, more than enough, too much. sigh.

enter bennifer.

fagre couches, anna's bed, hummus, stir-fry, family reunion. it's been a great weekend. a sober weekend. the family reunion went amazing. perfect. my predictions were far surpassed and I'm so proud of all of us. we've come together so close and in so many ways I never never thought would happen. it tears me up inside though to know it was over such awful circumstances. I wrote down yesterday "summer's enchanted, skin red exhausted with freckles and love. papa, I hope we made you proud." I was so exhausted yesterday evening. I broke down a few times and had to just let the tears flow. so stressed, so sad with feelings of longing. I miss him so much. it doesn't help I'm so fucking angry he left us without making things right. but that's how it goes. I really have no other option to let my anger surface, take hold of it, learn to deal with it, and let the time come when I won't feel it anymore. I don't want to write anymore. there's too much cable tv and fagre love going on. more rater.