Until death do us part

I doubt most married couples laugh as much or as hard as the faux husband and I do whenever we are together.

(please note our unintentional color coordination, which I didn't realize until I saw this picture)

Ruiner

5’6”

Wendyrella in boots.

That’s what we marked on the kitchen column, while drinking champagne, and waiting for turkey.
My boots immortalized, along with me, until a coat of white paint.
Later, alone, and down to the end, we couldn’t get them off fast enough. You ripped the zipper apart and threw the boot to the side.
“That can never be fixed”, I thought for a millisecond, “but I have others”.
We broke those two months later.

I just bought new ones. Images of you/me/us were in my head while I tried them on. I blushed. This is the first time I can recall being sad that a new purchase will not be destroyed.

The Cheat is grounded!

I have a terrible habit of eradicating electronic communications from people I date, so as not to obsess later. It's the slight argument for letter writing, they feel more special and less easily destroyed. But emails and texts quickly go to DELETED! (didn't even intend to make a strongbad reference there, in this homestar based post, huh)

anyway, The Cheat has been in my head lately for lots of sentimental reasons. I was promised my very own one. However, I lost proof of that. But, I thought it might be nice to have these handy.

go forth and enjoy his work!

here.

and most importantly, here

Prison of the Rhythm

http://beta.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif
I first heard the Golden Palominos when I was working at Urban Outfitters in 1993. " This is How it Feels" was one of the few albums that constantly played that I didn't tire of immediately. The album is a conceptual interpretation of Graham Greene's novel, "The End of the Affair". A novel that reminds me of train stations, uncontrollable bleeding, and taking a chance on a boy. But that is a different memory. Instead, in 1993, this album helped me through so much, with thoughtful and compelling lyrics and vocals. It was at a time when music still spoke to the depths of my soul, and I thought it could save me.

A few nights ago, I posted lyrics from that album. There are days when I feel as if I am the only one who remembers them. But, in all things serendipitous, the Nursefusion was just advised to read Graham Greene. Which made me feel as if timing, life, the universe, the fluidness of reality was asking me to think more on this novel and this album.

Anton Fier and Bill Laswell did an amazing job with this project. Read the book, buy the album. Track five, "To a Stranger", actually uses the last sentences from chapters as starting off points in lyrics. It was one of the last times that an album just managed to blow me away, time after time.

In the height of being suicidal when I had already promised that I wouldn't do it again, these lines ran through my head almost daily:

a promise is a promise
until the time you break it
nothing is forever
when you can forsake it

The complete lyrics:

prison of the rhythm
used to be a habit
now it is the measure
sex the only pleasure

think you are an angel
put me through the whole hell
speed it up to love time
over like a sex-crime

dizzy from the fucking search I seek the love of God

I knew it when you told me
you meant it when you said it
I never could believe it
I really should forget it

a promise is a promise
until the time you break it
nothing is forever
when you can forsake it

dizzy from the fucking search I seek the love of God

it's just a reflex
just the soul text
sleeping and awaking
taking and taking
it's a hunger only skin-deep
another one I can't keep
I dream you are the lost part
blame it on a soft heart

I thought I could trust you
but I don't even want to
what's it even good for?
always out the back door

empty as a tin can
angry as a jealous man
working with the same plan
doing it all again

dizzy from the place I spend all day and night
trying to tell myself that I can get it right
turning the world into the middle of my bed
turning the world into the hold inside my

really just a reflex
really just the soul text
sleeping and awaking
taking and taking

dizzy from the fucking search I seek the love of God

synchronicity? serendipity? reality?

Today, I was reminded of Leni Riefenstahl for no apparently good reason. It's been about 10 years since I last saw a clip of one of her movies. And, I don't really know that I've thought of her since her death 3 years ago.

But this morning, she popped into my head.

Then, while researching movie times for my night out with Steve Sweet, I saw this . It offers no explanation, no synopsis. Is it about Leni Riefenstahl? Searches have left me cold. Is it a figment of my imagination?

I had a similar experience last year, when Wittgenstein and Spinoza kept turning up in the weirdest places, days after I had referenced them in my journal or in conversation.

I thought I was really clever when, on a terrible hallucinogenic trip, I was convinced I had invented Donnie Darkio and Mulholland Drive to explain my death dream sequence. But hell, if I invented Wittgenstein, Spinoza and Riefenstahl...I'm brilliant.

Here it is 3AM and I'm still wide awake

Here it is morning again
life unstoppable
I'd open my eyes if it were still possible
Just tell me why
tell me why
tell me why

There were days
when I thought we could
Don't know why
that was when no one does
There were days
when I did not dream
We could hurt this way but two can play
Twist the knife
twist the knife

Over and over and over and over
And over and over

It was in your voice
It was in your eyes
It was in your body
It was in the room
I could always feel it
It wrote my dreams
It stole my peace
It robbed my sleep

Here it is 3AM and I'm still wide awake
I think in circles and circles are hard to break
Just tell me why tell me why tell me why

Trust contains the seed of betrayal
But also of something higher beyond the fire
You're not the exception
it's the rule
You know any fool can just give it away
Can just give it away
twist the knife

Over and over and over and over
And over and over

It was in your voice
It was in your eyes
It was in your body
It was in the room
I could always feel it
It wrote my dreams
It stole my peace
It robbed my sleep

Some things are fragile and some irresistable
Some things are easy and some irreplaceable
Just tell me why
tell me why
tell me why

There were days when time could have stopped
When it was enough to be in your love
There were days
but those days are gone
Those days are gone
twist the knife

Over and over and over and over
And over and over

-all hail the Golden Palominos

Me and the boys

It may seem unnecessary to say that these photos are from Halloween, but you never can tell with peeps. *sigh* I still have the PPD (post peep depression - a symptom which occurs after any extended peep-centric event)

Me and Missy

I can't stand the rain. Yes, I understand that I live in the PNW, but the rain here is usually more of a constant drizzle, a misting, if you will. I don't even own an umbrella, I just throw on a hat. But it's been like Old Testament rain for the past few days. My basement is flooded and the service chimney in my room has become the soothing water treatment I've always wanted, for my back yard! I feel like I'm living in Alaska, as it's been dark since last Wednesday. And it doesn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.

My seasonal affected disorder shouldn't be kicking in for at least another 2 months. I have a feeling it will be a long winter.

I am trying to break your heart

and you apparently aren't taking the hint.

Over at Will's, he has a post "You had me at shut up and bite down", in which he asks readers to recount moments when they knew someone wasn't "the one". Reading through the comments made me sad, mostly because of the terrible things people we love are capable of doing. I considered commenting, because I'm obviously in the not having found "the one" category. But then I realized my problem is quite different. For me, people have done things that very clearly let me know that I was(am) wasting my time, but yet, I still tried(try) to figure out how to make it work.

examples:
1. I'm going to move back in with my ex-girlfriend, but I can still imagine marrying
you.

2. I'm going to move to LA, but I see us together in about 10 years. (I believe the
"after I try and fuck movie star wannabees and models" was implied)

3. If you move back from Portland I can't promise that anything will be any
different, but at this very moment I want you here.

4. I know I have an extremely small dick, but I'm still going to break up with you
first.

You all get the point. I'm realizing I'm pretty screwed.

Guess what?

I can hula hoop in my room. I discovered this last week when I was up til 5am on a Wednesday due to the normal nocturnal behavior, anxiety and general sleep disorder.

The boys were here, and it was awesome.

Non-Quinault Halloween was still pretty kick ass!

I have a heater in my room for the first time since moving to Oregon. Not sure if that makes me happy or sad, because it eliminates the need for a winter boyfriend.

I only have 5 more weeks of classes. Ever. Until my next degree. Next term, I teach the whole time. I graduate May 5th.

The peeps get more wonderful everytime I get an email. A peep storycorps project of sorts has been going on and for the past few days my inbox has been flooded with wonderful memories of peeps and the mystical spyann. Thanks T2 for arranging!

The kwammunist

The boys get here in a few hours. I can't explain how good it feels to know that after almost 5 years out on the left, the crazy ass nyc kids still keep visiting. It says so much to me about friendship and connection and most importantly, family. Because the peeps are my family. Always have been, always will. I wouldn't be here or anywhere if I didn't have such an awe inspiring group to feel protected and loved by.

On the way to the treehouses a few weeks ago, I was telling Mary that I remember the first time I met almost all of my current friends. I remember a lot, but first meetings in detail, not always. Yet, I do remember the first time I met everyone I consider family. I didn't know we would be friends. Hell, some of them, I didn't even like. But something about our meeting lodged itself into my brain and stayed there. In some cases, I even remember the moment I knew we would always be friends.

The first time I met Kwame, I was 22 years old. And he made me cry. I had gone with other friends, long gone in my world now, to see Kwame's band. And Kwame looked like a long lost friend, even down to the Seahawks shirt. The only difference being Kwame played guitar and Mosley played bass. And the music was amazing and brought me back to a place I missed. And I cried. I'm sure he thought I was crazy (I know he still thinks I'm crazy) when Ezra introduced us and I still had tears in my eyes. And there it was. We started seeing each other around and gradually became more than acquaintances, not truly friends yet. But, I always felt connected to him. And he always made me laugh. When he called me on my 25th birthday, to try and coax me from my studies and celebrate, I knew. I knew we had passed into a new phase. It's been 12 years since we first met, and our friendship has been through many phases, incarnations of another band or two, but I know he will always be there if I really need him. Case in point, 6 hours after finding out that Miguel cheated on me, Kwame appeared on my doorstep. 3000 miles away. I can't even begin to know what those days would have looked like without Kwame there to support me.

next up: the husband.

Hurry Up Please It's Time

'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.
'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'

I've had bits of "The Waste Land" rattling around in my head today. Not sure why. It feels like I am being admonished by my brain for not reading as much as I used to, for not reading enough poetry lately, for not thinking deeply enough. Or maybe it is a new form of procrastination? Perhaps I won't notice I haven't written my paper on Autism if I am rereading poems of my youth and researching references? Seems to be working. Still no paper written, but several critical analyses of The Journey of the Magi and Anne Sexton's "Hurry Up Please it's Time"read.

I used to think that the line, "Hurry Up Please It's Time", from Part II of "the Wasteland" was so haunting, as if the speaker were invoking death. I chanted it as a mantra throughout high school. It wasn't until college that I found out the reference refers to the closing call at British pubs. So much nicer than the calls here, which usually go something like, "finish your fucking drink and get the fuck out". Don't you think?

more inbox poetry

come over please
you just can't go around petting babies
i will never eat anything purple again, just to be safe, not even skittles
and by serial killer, i mean 5 cat having anal freak
so, the moral of the story is, never try.

Our rhymes are so bionic

can someone PLEASE tell this talentless hack that she will NEVER be these ladies?

JJ Fad - Supersonic

glitter. rinse. repeat.

treehouse - I'm from barcelona



Misty and Kevin got mawwied! Among the treehouses. It was undeniably one of the best weekends of my life. Watching a couple you love so much and know are so right for one another is amazing. And getting to be part of "bridesmaids" hula-hooping with full bottles of champagne under the stars is magical. My jaw and abs still hurt from laughing. I'll post pictures later.

borrowing

I'm stealing this from Charles. Go read him, he's much more eloquent. And he has a heart to match no other. It sums up how I felt at the time he wrote it.* And how I hope to feel always. Much love.

"And we're here and fucking vibrant as hell despite the shakes. the stunted wondering how the fuck it is that we've come this long and no one dares call it in anymore. not that we ever did (though i might have once or twice). nor that we ever will as our long teeth approach. as our hair grows thin and our pants fall short.

Because this is fucking friendship.

This is fucking kin.

Perfect miscreants stumbling in and out of the shadows screaming something about beer and tits. firestorms. love and controversy.

And i'm better than ever in the thick of it."

*I was going to post this before the treehouses, but didn't. Because I knew it would sum up this weekend perfectly as well. And probably many others. I am SO lucky.

Swiss Family Robinson style

I get to go here in two days.

I know I come off as super debbie downer alot on this blog, but my life is usually fantastic. and I appreciate all of you who contribute to that!

so, I'm not even going to lament the cancellation of halloween in quinault, my brother's dog's death, or my postponed haiti trip. Or I am, but I'm going to remark that life is give and take.

And then, I'm going to go reread "The Alchemist"

For every door closing, there is a treehouse waiting.

Let's go dancing in the light

The harvest moon is tomorrow (Friday, October 6th). I love full moons in general, but I am constantly in awe of the harvest moon. Since moving to Portland, I’ve been amazed at the views I’ve had of it. Two years ago, on Hawthorne, buying costumes for Halloween, I stopped along with everyone else on the street to look at the most beautiful, low, pink/orange moon. A rare time when strangers all share a moment of beauty.

I recently bought a woodcut moon tarot card from an artist friend. I bought it because I feel affinity to the moon, and because I really liked his interpretation. I don’t know much about tarot, but I liked this description of the moon card from wikipedia:

"Have you ever lost the familiar to find, in its place, a world so extraordinary you can't even grasp it? This is the experience of the Moon.

Most of the time we live in a tiny pocket of normality that we wrap around us like a security blanket. We turn our backs on the mysterious universe that waits outside. From time to time we may sneak a peak with our imagination, or venture out through fantasy or expanded awareness. We can be thrust out there unprepared through drugs, madness or intense experiences such as battle.

The Moon is the light of this realm - the world of shadow and night. Although this place is awesome, it does not have to be frightening. In the right circumstances, the Moon inspires and enchants. It holds out the promise that all you imagine can be yours. The Moon guides you to the unknown so you can allow the unusual into your life."

Go out and experience the extradordinary...

only 22 more days

I just found out that the husband and kwame are coming West to Halloween! 200 peeps in the lodge in the woods! I heart the holidays!

We are all connected by glitter

“Does anyone have any extra glitter? Mine’s up the hill, in my tent.”
“Of course, it’s always in my bag.”
And that’s how I met Orange. Who couldn’t have a crush on a boy who carries glitter at all times?
Our relationship may have been many things, but it was always sparkly.
I just received a belated birthday gift from him in the mail. Beautiful woodcut Asian cloud prints for my room. Accompanied by a mylar and glitter card, wishing me sunshine and love.

The beautiful thing about glitter is that it stays on, even when you cry.