fools rush in where only angels fear to tread and so I come to you my love with my heart above my head. though I see the danger here, if there's a chance for me then I don't care. fools rush in where wise men never go, but wise men never fall in love, so how are they to know? when we met was when my life was about to begin, so open up your heart and let the fools rush in.
like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be. so take my hand, take my whole life to. for I couldn't help falling in love with you.
2/27/10- PM
I was out of my mind, we were 20,000 leagues under the sea.
11:30pm- Singing in the Rain and Wizard of Oz documentaries on tv. Jamie listening to songs his girlfriend sends him. Dj doing flips on and over the bed with his boxers all up in his butt cheeks. (This may have been the funniest thing I've seen in years.) Then I clogged the toilet. Yep. I had to use a pen to unglog it. Dj goes "call the front desk and tell them you're a big girl with a big problem." Thank you. After hours of laughing, music video making in sepia tones, me tickling jamie too hard resulting in myself being pushed hard and squished between the bed and the wall. Thank you. I swear to the lord those boys can make me laugh harder than anyone and anything. Over nothing! I laid there, bursts and bursts of deep throated laughter erupting. Needed. Much needed. "Dj, lettuce is made up of what.. a.) water or b.) nutrients? Trick question, both. Sucker" -"Goodnight stephanie."
2/28/10-
With all that I've done wrong, I must have done something right to deserve his love every morning and butterfly kisses at night.
8:00am- an hour of bon iver going off, I guess I'll shower. I put elvis on and hop in. You'd think i'd start to cry but I can't. Everyone's up, I'm getting yelled at for hogging the mirror and making stupid comments. (I do admit my brain has been pretty mushy lately.) McDonalds, ok, I'll have a few hash browns and coffee. You boys have 7 meaty greasy mcnasties. I check dad and floralyn's blog and with great delight he's doing much better today. We get to the hospital and alarmingly see a smiling face and those kind brown eyes staring back willing to enjoy the day. We talk, we give some back and head rubs - dad's favorite - coincidentally mine as well. God I love a head rub. Better than sex. Maybe. Papa asks the boys to leave the room because he needs to talk to me. "Now nonny, I want to talk to you about some serious stuff. I know you love your daddy more than anyone and I want you to know I love and want you around me. But living in southern missouri won't be such a treat. You can't party, you won't have anyone around, floralyn's moody, it won't always be great. But I want you. How do you feel?" I tell him of course I want him to. So that's the plan. March 15th or 16th, whenever we drive down for spring break, I'm moving in. I'll get the apartment off the garage and I'll take care of my papa. "There's not a girl who loves her dad more." I'm gonna call truth on that one. I'm scared. Not of the isolation, not of missing my friends (dubuque, waverly and all the fresh decorah faces I already truly love) but seeing my papa go through hell. He needed dj and chris to help him get into bed, he walked ok, but standing up too straight hurts. He also always have to have bags connected to him to drain his pancreas. I'm in for a lot. A lot being a pure implied understatement. I told dad it's going to be good to get healthy without drinking and smoking. (He said for sure the smell of smoke will make me repel him.) I'll have a pack for late night stress and drinks every once in awhile but it's true, I do need to get healthy. I told him it'd be nice to lose weight as well..he replied with a chuckle, "oh you'll lose weight. There's lots of work to be done. I'll teach you how to drive the tractor." It's things like that I'm looking forward to. I want to hold out my hands and soak up all the light I can. Warm sunshine, books, eating out of the garden. I'll get lonely, but I'm so lucky to be the one to be the one with him. He assures me I can leave whenever I want. That's obviously to be determined. I'm we're walking around, we're joking with nurses. Dad actually hits us with some quips. It's hard to have such a hard day yesterday and such a positive one today, but we'd be horrible animals to let it slip by. We watched a car-salesmen movie on the way to st. louis and we put it in for dad. Something about hearing the words "mother fucker" over and over in a hospital room full of perrys does something. Papa's not quite laughing but he's really enjoying it. We say our goodbyes with a few tears. Let me explain my dad a bit: he hugs dj- a very strong loving goodbye. Hugs jamie a little longer, tears up. Hugs chris, moves his head but with a smile says "ok I don't want your germs." Then he hugs keith, rubs his arm and says "thank you so much for taking care of everyone." I'm last, just looks at me says "what's your mental state nonny? I see that look on your face." I just look at him and say "well, a lot." He replies, "that was a flare of humor stephanie." Leave it to him. Love it.
2, 3ish pm- departure from st. louis. Not without another starbucks stop (fuck you starbucks) walmart (fuck you walmart.) Gas station bathroom smells like cinnamon candy. I announce that as I walk in. Who cares if there's anyone in there. Car ride: crammed like sardines, jamie on his laptop uploading another 100 pictures we took, dj reading "big success," chris secretly smoked some hitters (thanks for making me your alliance chrispin) and is very happy to be watching a movie on the dvd player up front. Keith's chugging coffee, driving and laughing loudly at the movie. I have my headphones on and found some pringles. I've probably gained 10 lbs this trip. No, but I feel like it. 3 meals a day will do that. Ha. If only I was lindsey lohan.
4:19pm- "I fucked a girl without nipples once." -"I really like small pink nipples." no no no no
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
don't be a martha
wanderers this morning came by. where did they go graceful in the morning light? to banner fair, to follow you softly In the cold mountain air. through the forest, down to your grave where the birds wait and the tall grasses wave. they do not know you anymore. dear shadow alive and well, how can the body die? you tell me everything, anything true. In the town one morning I went staggering through premonitions of my death, I don't see anybody that dear to me. dear shadow alive and well, how can the body die? you tell me everything, anything true. I don't know what I have done, I'm turning myself to a demon. I don't know what I have done, I'm turning myself to a demon.
2/26/10- I woke up in anna's warmth, comforted and strong. Chan playing softly, reminding me of a familiar time and year. Coffee and picture sifting all morning. Tears, anxiety and inevitable preparation. 12 sandwiches made. 3:00-destination: st. louis. 4 brothers + myself + good, bad, ugly, dirty conversation. It was good to hear keith's side of this debacle and life in general. It's odd we have the same father but don't know each other. Bless his soul, he's paying for everything. Everything. "You look homely and mean today." -"I'm sorry, I didn't know leggings, boots, an extra large sweater, scarf and aviators weren't fashionable enough. Sorry. And hey, fuck you! And fuck Aeropostale." 4 hours in. Mexican for dinner. Shrimp nachos? Ok! I fell into directly into a shrimp coma for the last hour of the trip. Don't worry, I used a pair of dirty jeans for a pillow, woke up to realized I missed out on best buddies. I wanted a fucking best buddy of 44oz of cola. Pick your battles steph. Hotel arrival. By this point giggling is happening. I'm talking only laughing perry's can do. We decide the hotel bar is key. Low and behold a birthday party karaoke extravaganza is happening. The dj urges us to add him on facebook. Fucking 2010. One vodka tonic later jamie's feeling uncomfortable being one of 3 white people (myself, keither and james.) in the large bar/lounge and we must leave. Bed time. Jimma and I share appropriately. After slamming a diet cola and burst of giggles, I'm ready to pass the fuck out. "Steph, our butts are touching." -"yeah well, I'm cold!" "..sigh. I wish I was sleeping next to dj instead." Goodnight.
2/27/10-
Happy Birthday Deej.
8:30am- waking up to bon iver always makes me nostalgic. Coffee. I'm cosmetically ready for the day. Makeup feels nice, although putting it on I realize it's a waste. Oh well, I need the boost. Today's the day. Chris is sick. 101 temperature. $20 worth of meds. We're at the hospital. But of course not without a few fights between the boys. I've never met more sensitive men with such raging testosterone levels. Failed mediating on my part. Alas, 14th floor. Room 14485. The smell of hospital reminds of not only my own unimportant ear surgeries (the age more than anything tragic) but mom's unlucky numerous nights spent incoherent and unhealthy. We meet floralyn and the dr. Cancer. People always say it's the worst, ugliest word in this goddamn language. Truth. Truth, fucking disgusting truth. Class 4 pancreatic cancer. I'm last in line to file in the room. At the last possible minute my body betrays and weakens with loss of all motor function. I'm as light as a feather and I'd rather the wind blow me away than walk forward. Tears. Dj grabs my hand, "don't cry nonny, you're making me cry." It's here. it's in my face. Dad. It's not dad. 50lbs lost, he's half the size of the hospital bed. His eyes are empty, his hands yellow and cold. Jaundice. Bilirubin. I take my time and try to compose myself. Surprisingly I'm the first one to have my alone time. Worst. He can barely speak and as I grab his hand, he puts so much effort into rubbing it but then drifts back out and his hand goes cold and limp. I panic quickly, hyperventilate and suddenly am aware of my gag reflex. He opens his eyes, hazy and unrecognizable. So fucked. So fucked up. We come in and out of the room for the rest of the day.. each of us streaming tears, no one expected to see him old. Old and gaunt. I call julia, I need her voice. Something about it. 13 years, she's worth it in every way imaginable. And I love her. I just need to sob, let it go in an obscene sort of way. I want to get back to dad- it's all about time. He needs a nap and asks me to lay in the bed next to him. I of course don't sleep but stare at him making sure the slightest sniff le doesn't wake him and his chest keeps moving. There it was: the worst feeling I will ever know: my father's dying and this is exactly what he's going to look in his casket. The pillow is officially soaking with eyeliner and tears but I can't close my eyes even for a second. It was like one of those movies you can't quite relate to- I was memorizing every line, every surprising throat click (I myself click every night), every hair, every eyelash, every bone freshly sticking out from underneath his sallow skin. I'm in a bad dream right? Fucking wake me up. James walks in, whispers with tears, "he just.. looks. so old." Silence. A few more hour, dad's rundown and needs serious rest. My eyes are burning, I'm physically and emotionally exhausted. Keith feels the need for us to digest another 3 course meal. I can feel the fat gathering at my dainty ankles, not to mention an already bloated belly. Shouldn't complain, it's more food than I've eaten in the past week. Garmin tells us half an hour to a chinese buffet. Ok. Across st. louis and an hour later I'm throwing up ice cream (yeah, ice cream is key at a chinese buffet.) "God jimma, look how big my thighs are huge." -"no, look at mine steph." "You just have child bearing thighs steph!" Thank you for piping in chris. I love jamie so much. Who else can make eating ice cream like a 10 year old slut hilarious? Laughter is wonderful. Chris is pouting, he can't eat, he's sick, everyone's laughing, racial slurs are flyin' (not out of my mouth mind you.) Chris, "how long you think it'd take you to get raped in this neighborhood? Your time starts when you leave the car." Keith, "chris, how long you think it'd take before YOU got raped?! Jamie's would be traded nightly for a pack of lucky strikes." Dj; "don't take my jamie, I broke that jeeba's ass in!" Jesus christ these are the times I cherish.
7:30pm- It's almost unfortunate it's back to the hospital and reality. Dad's awake though! He's in his red plaid robe and checking his email. Picture time. His voice is louder but different. It's old, it's soft, it's there, but it's not. We're still high off our laughing binge thank god. I watch him try to upload the pictures. This is a man who has two new mac computers, one with one of those 20 inch screens, an extra monitor, dvd printer, printers for his photography business (basically equipment I have no idea about..) and couldn't even remember how to copy pictures into a separate folder. Fucking weird. Time for papa's bedtime. He grabs each of our hand and says he loves us and goodnight. I tell him he looks pretty. He says "you're pretty nonny. You're coming home with me right nonny? I need you to help take care of me.. Only if you want to." -"Of course I want to daddy."
9:00pm- chris has a meltdown/freak out in the car. We're poking fun at him because it's so easy and he's been playing a 'sick and pouty card' all day. Go figure. Insults keith, who happens to be having the most fun joking around. Typical chris. We yell at him. Seriously, how disrespectful. Fuck chris. Emotions are just all out of whack with everyone. We drop him off at the hotel. We drive around. Elvis- only fool rush in comes on. Dad and my song. I look over and jamie's crying too. Then we're both sobbing but quietly out the window to ourselves. I can't see his baby heart break. Another song reminds us of him. Jimma looks at me, "you know what's fucked up? I'll be 20 in six months." Long stare. This is the shit that gets me. Dad won't see so much. Think positive- I could go on forever.
9:30pm- Best buddies and site-see downtown st. louis and have a photo shoot around the arch? Definitely. (I'll quit soda next week I swear.) More driving around. I think we all just want to exhaust ourselves. We're just a bunch of junk yard dogs.
2/26/10- I woke up in anna's warmth, comforted and strong. Chan playing softly, reminding me of a familiar time and year. Coffee and picture sifting all morning. Tears, anxiety and inevitable preparation. 12 sandwiches made. 3:00-destination: st. louis. 4 brothers + myself + good, bad, ugly, dirty conversation. It was good to hear keith's side of this debacle and life in general. It's odd we have the same father but don't know each other. Bless his soul, he's paying for everything. Everything. "You look homely and mean today." -"I'm sorry, I didn't know leggings, boots, an extra large sweater, scarf and aviators weren't fashionable enough. Sorry. And hey, fuck you! And fuck Aeropostale." 4 hours in. Mexican for dinner. Shrimp nachos? Ok! I fell into directly into a shrimp coma for the last hour of the trip. Don't worry, I used a pair of dirty jeans for a pillow, woke up to realized I missed out on best buddies. I wanted a fucking best buddy of 44oz of cola. Pick your battles steph. Hotel arrival. By this point giggling is happening. I'm talking only laughing perry's can do. We decide the hotel bar is key. Low and behold a birthday party karaoke extravaganza is happening. The dj urges us to add him on facebook. Fucking 2010. One vodka tonic later jamie's feeling uncomfortable being one of 3 white people (myself, keither and james.) in the large bar/lounge and we must leave. Bed time. Jimma and I share appropriately. After slamming a diet cola and burst of giggles, I'm ready to pass the fuck out. "Steph, our butts are touching." -"yeah well, I'm cold!" "..sigh. I wish I was sleeping next to dj instead." Goodnight.
2/27/10-
Happy Birthday Deej.
8:30am- waking up to bon iver always makes me nostalgic. Coffee. I'm cosmetically ready for the day. Makeup feels nice, although putting it on I realize it's a waste. Oh well, I need the boost. Today's the day. Chris is sick. 101 temperature. $20 worth of meds. We're at the hospital. But of course not without a few fights between the boys. I've never met more sensitive men with such raging testosterone levels. Failed mediating on my part. Alas, 14th floor. Room 14485. The smell of hospital reminds of not only my own unimportant ear surgeries (the age more than anything tragic) but mom's unlucky numerous nights spent incoherent and unhealthy. We meet floralyn and the dr. Cancer. People always say it's the worst, ugliest word in this goddamn language. Truth. Truth, fucking disgusting truth. Class 4 pancreatic cancer. I'm last in line to file in the room. At the last possible minute my body betrays and weakens with loss of all motor function. I'm as light as a feather and I'd rather the wind blow me away than walk forward. Tears. Dj grabs my hand, "don't cry nonny, you're making me cry." It's here. it's in my face. Dad. It's not dad. 50lbs lost, he's half the size of the hospital bed. His eyes are empty, his hands yellow and cold. Jaundice. Bilirubin. I take my time and try to compose myself. Surprisingly I'm the first one to have my alone time. Worst. He can barely speak and as I grab his hand, he puts so much effort into rubbing it but then drifts back out and his hand goes cold and limp. I panic quickly, hyperventilate and suddenly am aware of my gag reflex. He opens his eyes, hazy and unrecognizable. So fucked. So fucked up. We come in and out of the room for the rest of the day.. each of us streaming tears, no one expected to see him old. Old and gaunt. I call julia, I need her voice. Something about it. 13 years, she's worth it in every way imaginable. And I love her. I just need to sob, let it go in an obscene sort of way. I want to get back to dad- it's all about time. He needs a nap and asks me to lay in the bed next to him. I of course don't sleep but stare at him making sure the slightest sniff le doesn't wake him and his chest keeps moving. There it was: the worst feeling I will ever know: my father's dying and this is exactly what he's going to look in his casket. The pillow is officially soaking with eyeliner and tears but I can't close my eyes even for a second. It was like one of those movies you can't quite relate to- I was memorizing every line, every surprising throat click (I myself click every night), every hair, every eyelash, every bone freshly sticking out from underneath his sallow skin. I'm in a bad dream right? Fucking wake me up. James walks in, whispers with tears, "he just.. looks. so old." Silence. A few more hour, dad's rundown and needs serious rest. My eyes are burning, I'm physically and emotionally exhausted. Keith feels the need for us to digest another 3 course meal. I can feel the fat gathering at my dainty ankles, not to mention an already bloated belly. Shouldn't complain, it's more food than I've eaten in the past week. Garmin tells us half an hour to a chinese buffet. Ok. Across st. louis and an hour later I'm throwing up ice cream (yeah, ice cream is key at a chinese buffet.) "God jimma, look how big my thighs are huge." -"no, look at mine steph." "You just have child bearing thighs steph!" Thank you for piping in chris. I love jamie so much. Who else can make eating ice cream like a 10 year old slut hilarious? Laughter is wonderful. Chris is pouting, he can't eat, he's sick, everyone's laughing, racial slurs are flyin' (not out of my mouth mind you.) Chris, "how long you think it'd take you to get raped in this neighborhood? Your time starts when you leave the car." Keith, "chris, how long you think it'd take before YOU got raped?! Jamie's would be traded nightly for a pack of lucky strikes." Dj; "don't take my jamie, I broke that jeeba's ass in!" Jesus christ these are the times I cherish.
7:30pm- It's almost unfortunate it's back to the hospital and reality. Dad's awake though! He's in his red plaid robe and checking his email. Picture time. His voice is louder but different. It's old, it's soft, it's there, but it's not. We're still high off our laughing binge thank god. I watch him try to upload the pictures. This is a man who has two new mac computers, one with one of those 20 inch screens, an extra monitor, dvd printer, printers for his photography business (basically equipment I have no idea about..) and couldn't even remember how to copy pictures into a separate folder. Fucking weird. Time for papa's bedtime. He grabs each of our hand and says he loves us and goodnight. I tell him he looks pretty. He says "you're pretty nonny. You're coming home with me right nonny? I need you to help take care of me.. Only if you want to." -"Of course I want to daddy."
9:00pm- chris has a meltdown/freak out in the car. We're poking fun at him because it's so easy and he's been playing a 'sick and pouty card' all day. Go figure. Insults keith, who happens to be having the most fun joking around. Typical chris. We yell at him. Seriously, how disrespectful. Fuck chris. Emotions are just all out of whack with everyone. We drop him off at the hotel. We drive around. Elvis- only fool rush in comes on. Dad and my song. I look over and jamie's crying too. Then we're both sobbing but quietly out the window to ourselves. I can't see his baby heart break. Another song reminds us of him. Jimma looks at me, "you know what's fucked up? I'll be 20 in six months." Long stare. This is the shit that gets me. Dad won't see so much. Think positive- I could go on forever.
9:30pm- Best buddies and site-see downtown st. louis and have a photo shoot around the arch? Definitely. (I'll quit soda next week I swear.) More driving around. I think we all just want to exhaust ourselves. We're just a bunch of junk yard dogs.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
