I saw the most ridiculously normal thing today but it was still shocking. It's so obvious that we are all fragile and come from the same place. I was a difficult baby. I was breech, my head was facing the wrong direction and my mother had to sit for hours with an ice pack on her belly to try and get me to turn the right way. I didn't. She said I was active and kicked her with force, and regularly too. Her water broke at the symphony of all places. With my father holding their seats, she went to the bathroom at the intermission and ended up in the hospital to deliver me. The part I find most interesting is what happened after she got the epidural. Her fucking body went numb. It didn't go as planned and her entire body was paralyzed so she was breathing, but couldn't feel herself breathing. Can you imagine that? It's hard to realize that we are conscious of our breathing. What would happen if our body kept doing its job but our minds simply couldn't recognize that the motions were still in play? I was born at around 5 o'clock. A healthy baby. A fat baby. A trouble baby! I told my mother I loved her this morning. And it wasn't just to say it. Some babies are born with their intestines hanging out of their bodies. Some babies have to go right into surgery just hours after being born. I was trouble, but I survived. Birth is an overwhelming thing.

And that, is the last time I'll be watching the discovery channel for a while. HA.

Oh shit! I forgot. The fiance was never found and he began a love affair with her best friend. It is obvious what will happen but it was still pretty compelling. He cheats on her and she sees it and runs away. They meet at the top of the hotel, looking over the mountains, and the little shit starts to cry. And she almost puts her hand on his back, for comfort, but stops. And you think, 'Yesss girl! Run away. You are beautiful!' and then after a few minutes, she does it again and the music increases with tension and finally...

she does indeed comfort him. And the film ends there.

Fuck. that. bologna. up. the. ass.

"Stop".

What are the things that are only yours? That no one else can take away or give more to. I mean to say, when you don't hear any ones opinion or have any other influences, what are you left with? Some words are only yours. Stop is mine. I can use it how I please, and liberally too. My writing is mine. You can edit it but it is not yours to keep or see or understand or for me to care if you do. Finding value in the things that don't depend on anyone but my own self. I recognize what is mine, and what is yours, and what I have no place or reason to touch of others.

Huh.
So it would be nice to write the things I'd felt on a different day but seeing as there is consistency in disappointment (at times) I guess it makes sense that I'm not able to today. People seem really cool with all their silly hats and silly hair and small words put together in sentences to seem wiser than they really are. As if the sentence could make their thoughts any more important. It can't. You're still just as unsure as everyone else.

I'm going to try and see if I can laugh at the distortions of a lot of things this time.

Young Stuff...

Dirty ground, mud that captures your shoes when you step in it, Argentina.
Don't let the dogs scare you, they travel in packs to stay safe. Smoke more, move less, insides stay inside and the earth stays out. I've never seen the sunset here.



Boy
You rip the skin off your fingers too. IT hurts when the skin breaks but sometimes, you like to see blood. What makes the two of us so angry at ourselves that we peal away layers of our own skin as quickly as we smoke our 20 cigarettes a day? Your mother calls you to ask how your thumbs are, she's worried you've finally gone too far and this time you have taken the fingertips off. I laugh as you imitate her. I think of my own mother who shook her head and looked down at the floor when she saw the band aids I used to cover up the craters and blood soaked spots on my own thumb, ring, middle, pinkie, all fingers. I think, only now do I realize that she was just tired of seeing my raw, pink skin.

Lolipop
You gave me this lollipop. I had wanted it all week but never had enough money. Then, without saying anything at all you pulled an orange pop right out of your pocket. And I was so excited,
that I forgot to say thank you!


"Mother"
Mother. I haven't called you 'mama' yet because the word stays stuck on my tongue like melted ice. I think you like it better that way anyway, though. You feel younger, feel like a big sister instead. And the truth is you are young. Younger than my father and more beautiful too. I wonder, mother, if anyone tells you how beautiful you are? If they did, you'd probably just laugh and show them your rotten teeth. But mama, rotten teeth can be beautiful too.

More Teeth
It's through the blackness of your gums that I first saw kindness in imperfection. In the beginning, your teeth scared me. They made me careful to put my toothbrush on the far side of the bathroom so our grime couldn't meet. In the beginning, when you spoke to me, I didn't hear a word you said.

As time went on I noticed other things. Things like your ways of showing affection, how you kept your figure and how you always had food on the table for all those other hungry mouths.

Walking on white lines and black stones today, snow fell. I thought about my hair and the cold and the smell of winter getting stuck in each pore on my body. Being outside is like gifts and getting used to smoking crack when you just recently found a bag of cocaine, sitting like cherries on top of the counter at work one day. It's like, woah, you've got to readjust your glasses to see straight and when you think you're seeing truth you realize it's just hazy glass, your eyes cage you in. Not the body, not the mind but it's your eyes today. I know you just want to get out of here. You just aren't in the right state of mind. I can't touch you and you don't know me. Everything gonna be all right, everything gonna be alright. Repeat it till it hurts, till there's no more saliva left in your mouth, till you believe it.
I'm sorry I can't touch you. I'm sorry you can hardly look into my eyes and that you have to look at my white, sick skin.
I'm sorry you are 45 and have 2 kids and a husband who don't come visit.
I'll be back in 2 weeks. If you're out, fabulous and if not...everything gonna be alright.

I left as a beauty, and came back a mess.


Why does it still feel like a man can do as much shit as he wants and is just called a "junkie" affectionately? When a woman out does a man she still is forced to accept these boundaries of, "well, what do you do to have fun besides smoke, anyway?"

Burroughs was a junkie. Anton Wilson a shroom. Bukowski was a drunk...but we are none of these. So why don't you just get to know each other?
We'll smoke a blunt together.



HA. :p

I've been smoking those fucking spirits again. But this time, it was different. I got asked for identification and I had that moment of panic, that second of total forgetfullness of self, of place and of time. And then, I saw that the whole reason I had come there was null. I saw yellow, red and dark green packs but not my familiar light blue. The one I started buying when I was in 9th grade and I knew all the places to shop for fags and naty boh and Indian, foreign, waiting men. That's when I started and my mind came flooding back as I dipped hand after what felt like hand into my woman bag and scraped old recites and broken credit cards and scraps of words written in black ink, on white napkins.

He said, he said they have what I'm looking for in the back and I protest saying, "No, no. I'll take the others anyway...". And then I look at the pack, the one I've had my eye on, the one whose color screams "SMOKE THE SHIT OUTTA ME" and I see it's menthol. Indian, smooth, creamy motha' fucking hunter s. thompson green, menthol. And I buy it. And I don't hear how much it costs but remember to get free matches on my way out.

Menthol, buddy. Something new. I can't smoke the whole pack, too strong, too minty and fine. So I'll cut back. So I'll lose that ID for a little while.

Menthol. Difference helps me cut back.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AxreV9xGmo&feature=related


Honestly. This made me feel life in my toes again.

"'be a plumber instead'-(i felt like screaming)- 'and have your fucking king-size fridge full of venison sausages, chilled aquavit and Malvern spring water, and look at your color TV with remote-control switch and cuddle a .30-.30 on your lap, waiting for teh deer season when all sensible citizens will be in their cellars with sandbags stacked around them."

-William S. Burroughs

God damn. My mind plays tricks on me more than my physical body does. I want to escape this dimension so badly. I walked around today in a fucking daze! Went the wrong way on the metro, asked a co-worker what makes him happy, did some awkward shit. I'm all out of sorts. Because I don't know what I want and I'm always looking for other people to help me figure out what that is. Will I be happy in obscurity? I'm scared I'll feel the exact same way I do now and then I'll have tried everything. My thing in life has always been to live through every emotion possible. But that has gotten me into a lot of trouble. That has "complicated your life" as my mother constantly reminds me. It's true. But fuck that. I think. And then, I come into work and see these ridiculously sad people. People who got kicked out of their homes, people who lost 30,000 worth of furniture when their landlords threw their shit out on the lawn and it rained like hell on them. I see these people and it makes me want to just curl up, man. Just curl up and tell myself to shut up! That I am insignificant and my happiness is meaningless compared to this man I see shut out of his own home. But is it so wrong to not value the same things that I'm told to value? At least not yet...fuck my head hurts, my heart hurts more. I'm lost in these boundaries we are told to keep between us all. Reading has been keeping me (relatively) sane lately. A good escape, yeah. It's all the same shit over and over. I feel guilty when I want to just go. I feel like I'm being a selfish woman, a selfish being who isn't giving but just wants to take from the world. But I'd be giving in my own way. We all contribute in different ways. We don't all have to be competitive and progress society in the more logical ways. Some of us can contribute with thought, right?

Shit. I'm tired. I'm zoned. I am smoking too much weed.

What do we think about competition?

OKAY. Honestly, the last one.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4uOhD67028I&NR=1

oh shit. There may be a few of these.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fh2fh1aI24Y&feature=related

ha ha ha ha. Thanks Jackson.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKLzClpc12A&feature=related

Shove that, public.

In a dump of beige concrete, you're given 25 years. You don't blink. The person staring back at you keeps talking but she shouldn't be the one to leave you with this news. And as you lean down to the bottom of the window where there are holes for speaking, you think how unfair it all is. Look around you, even I don't want to touch these walls. You're so young and the smell of this place is too strong. Blame the dust for tears.
But this is all make believe. You don't cry and you've grown used to the smells around you. 25 years. It's a safe enough place to keep us away from the street, if only for a little while. Back to the kitchen, to clean off piss filled tables.
Only the attorney seems guilty.

Oh! And I'm a belligerent drunk. If you know me, keep the phone out of my hands if I am within 10 feet of a blunt or bira. Sometimes, they are messages of love and other times, they may make you hate me. But no one wants enemies! I think we all laa love to hate and most of us can't tell the difference.

That woman disappeared on an island. Her fiance was in love with another woman and she was crazy for attention! Silly women! Did he want both?

I'm having crazy thoughts these days and none make sense. But words can be strung together like blown glass. Gloppy at first and then it comes together into something beautiful but not quite sane.

Look at that! We're all beautiful and vain.

Ah! Crazy Italian love! Their movies were so grand and filled with sad and beautiful women! I am a silly Jew but my dad looks Italian so I'll play the part in my mind while watching these florescent movies. This weekend was so crystal and fine and I felt that glimmer of true happiness! Connecting with other people for REAL is so rare and I appreciate every moment of it. I cannot wait for these next few weeks to fly by though! I know my girl is terrified but I can't help but think how incredibly sunny life will be with our minds fuse together again. We spread fire like temperature in California and we've always been blowin' smoke up other peoples asses. MY LOVE! I'm with you! This blog seems to end up just being a dedication to how special I think you are. And we will live and love together and apart. I LOVE YOU. I hope you're doing good tonight and maybe you'll read this on a break. KEEP THOSE SPIRITS HIGH! Julian Bond thinks you're BAD as. I bet he sort of wishes he was you.

Heart and soul, baby blue, jazz of mine, lets sing staccato (??) tunes.

I fuck myself over. That dark night, laying in his little, carved out space of blankets. He turned the lights off, 'no fancy dimmers here,' he thought. Then to undress me, bit by bit, you read fucking poems to me! Everything we did was so fantastical. Each fight, each kiss was like a director screamed, "TAKE TWO!" and we gave it our all. I miss your silly face. My puppy dog with slender body. I would collapse in you all the time! I loved you so much. I've buried it all so I don't have to think about it too much. I don't know how we were so locked into each other. You still make me your world and I remember that night, coming home to you on my couch. Starting the adventure together and all spirits high. Did this all really happen? I jumped on you, you woke from sleep, the history channel glaring blue on your cheeks. I kissed you all over, I could eat your face. Knowing you was like an alternate universe. where does this leave us for the rest?

Dios mio! I don't know how to react! I am so shocked and I'm not sure it's real and I don't want any expectations for either of us. Life is what you make it and having support is so important.

I love you!

Tiptoe, on a neon green lily pad. I look forward, trying to stay on point and I see the image of the forest reflected back into an unconscious world. The lake is painted silver during these cold months. As my weight changes from one side to the other, the water ripples past. Nature always seems to have such an advantage of definite destination. This is the dream I have, wide awake. Each time I try and say, "Let's slow down! Let's stop this crazy dance!"

I felt myself shrinking despite trying to put things in perspective. It's too hard to look into other peoples pasts. It's too much for me to handle being in such close proximity with someone who knows more than I probably want to. And it's brought up every time by someone which is what I don't understand. It was surprising to hear from him but now I just want to disappear into myself. How long can I not feel worthy of something that is probably not even so great? I need fresh air and to be lifted up again. I can't find that in 1000 miles away but I can't find it close by either. We all wish we were our idols but I don't want to hear ex lovers quarrels. Not when you bring up the words with such casual knowledge of being.

You're dressed in such nice clothing. A blazer even, clean and good smelling, fitted to your round belly. Sit quietly, while the train moves swiftly, faster than your mind allows you even in its independence. You shout out! In public! A sigh, a cave man shrill, unintelligible language. We don't react. We let you sit, we let you sleep. I forget about you for a while. Watching the black shift to tan pavement walls and back to black again. And then, you are suddenly standing up, and I sense the nerves in this confined space. You're playing with you belt, trying to pull up your jeans. Is that what you're doing? For a moment, I think you may be trying to expose yourself and I'm not sure which way I should look or where I am supposed to go in this sort of situation. Then, as slowly as you rose from your seat in the corner, you quickly fall sideways with gravity. It pulls you down and your eyes are glazed over and you fall into an unsuspecting young woman. She isn't even very shocked. I am just glad that the children have gotten off at the last stop.

I drove back through a glass minefield. It was so unexpected. I was trying my best to keep my head balanced and my eyes slanted closed just the right amount. I got distracted by the car next to me and suddenly found my self in a rattle of brittle glass, shreds and pieces strewn on the highway like gravel.

I spent 32 dollars today on some nifty shit and smoked joints throughout the day. Shit man, a good Sunday should be just like this. In bed and warm, nice and stoned, in a fuzzy sweater.

What a beautiful day! I'm sitting at work and I can't even pretend to focus right now. This city is an inspiring place to be. Walking the street back from the jail I had so many smiles put on my face. Everywhere I looked was an Obama sticker and everyone on the streets was talking about our man OBAMA! When was the last time we as a country were so moved? No matter what you think about him you can't deny that he brought the spirit of people back, and it's about time. Outside of central booking there was a group of kids being interviewed. I stopped and asked what was up and they said they had been arrested the night before while celebrating and that one of the kids had been tazzered (how the fuck do you spell that?). I don't want to be a bitch...but I probably will end up sounding like one anyway...It will never stop pissing me off that these kids get the media to pay attention to them so quickly. I go to that fucking jail everyday and see the most horrifying things and people don't care about that. People are people and everyone deserves to be heard and some (here goes the bitch in me) deserve it way more than a group of silly college kids. Not that I am not one of them...I guess I should put my anger towards the media instead of the kids themselves. Thus, fuck the media. (?) Baltimore is so special to me today though. The cobblestones and empty natty boh cans on the side of the street, Calvert, St. Paul, E. Madison, all so familiar to me. I get asked for money and honestly don't have any, I almost get hit by a biker and then again by an old man smoking a pipe in a blue punch-buggie no punch backs. The city paper comes out today, each Wednesday and it's pages are strewn all over the sidewalks. I see the main character in 'Whose Afraid of Virginia Woolf' and I stop him to tell him how incredible he was. I walk past a skinny man in a stripped sweater with two dogs, one still a pup and I smile and he stops and lets me oohh and ahh over them for a few minutes. I giggle to myself at the homeless man sweeping the leafs and cigarette butts off the sidewalk. He doesn't have to do this but I think he thinks he does. I walk and walk and hear the distinct laugh of each of the buildings, hear the chatter of poverty and still hope. Dirty, dirty, city. We all love you. We all clean you and put our cigarette butts out on you at the same time. But that is true love, isn't it? Respect vs. disrespect. Loving vs. loathing. Bawwdeemore...

Yes we can. :) Ha.

To the spinning world of what used to be deviance and is now simply, social conformity. To the excess? Perhaps and these extremities keep you dharma bums in balance. For now. Till generation nothing gets tired of snorting.

So fabulousss, kids. Today is the day and I already voted and wanted to hug everyone in line. There was a group of college kids there handing out "Vote for question 2" pamphlets and it was so silly. I won't press my opinion on anyone...(*yeah, right.) but I just sort of laughed to myself and maybe a little slipped out into the public world as well. Then, the strangest thing happened. On the metro to work, a young man with a beard came and sat across from me. He was smelly and obvious and had a guitar. And I of course looked him up and down just to check if I should EYE FUCK HIM?!!!! Ha. Just joking. But I looked at him. And it was a mistake yet it made my day a bit better. He started talking to me and then came to sit next to me. I could tell after a few minutes of talking to him that he was sort of mentally unstable but the thing is, we all are and I still wanted to hear what he had to say. It was great. I mean, he was very inappropriate in that he asked me to sleep with him but at the same time he was very brilliant and the simple fact is, this world just will never accept him. It sort of made me feel good to know that I am at least not so far gone that I can't function in the society we are told is right. I don't like it or feel comfortable in it at all times but I can respect some of our societies values and rules. This man, did not. And it was refreshing. Maybe I am strange for thinking that but I mostly agreed with what he was saying, that men and women are so strange with each other and that people don't say or do what they mean to say and do, they fake it. I agree, or agreed, but then I sort of realized that I also agree with some of the boundaries societies places in life too. It was a first to be honest. An interesting guy, from Russia, who said he wasn't trying to rape me. And I probably should have run...but, I'm strange and who was I to tell him he was any stranger?

It was weird, and funny and scary and unreal and hairy.