Thursday, September 27, 2012

You can call it another lonely day

Again he was drunk. Again walking him home. Our arguing and banter. His unexpected sweetness came through my uncomfortable emotional comments. He kissed me on University. Home at last. Both on the couch and he fumbled to find something to smoke. I will not think about his kiss; not for the last 2 1/2 years. It is 3am. Stay or go? His shoulders shrug. Half on the couch, half off, attempting to look at his face and eyes directly. Stay or go? Finally, I’m in those eyes. He took my hair out of my face, pulled me in, and kissed me. 

I mustered the courage and entered the above paragraph in a competition in a local publication for a fictional story (not poetry) on really any subject matter but could only be  101 words.  I have never submitted my writing for any competition. I do not expect to win. In fact I think my piece is a bit overly romantic. Because life never happens like that ever on a Sat night/Sun morning a scant week ago in Sept. 

Thursday, September 20, 2012

muzzle on love

i told chris today i wasn't in love with him anymore.
even crazier, i meant it, not maliciously, but as a reality.
i thought i saw melanie get out of her car today at la jolla shores.
i had anxiety that started with dreams and carried through to this moment.
i couldn't stop shaking after i saw melanie's doppelganger.
i realized tonight i could give a shit about a band named boyz to men.
i continue to learn the painful lessons surrounding plans and expectations.
i realized how uncomfortable i am seeing young beautiful couples kissing in line at a pub.
despite what people want me to think or believe, i can love myself and still be sad, disappointed and fearful that love will never come my way.
i have listened to the police today in excess especially their first album.
i should have been a rabbi.
i should have been an architect.
i coulda been a contender.
i have fucking awesome legs and ankles.
i can sing a seriously rocking version of "roxanne"
i have been so infatuated with sting for so many years i can do all the crazy inflections he does on the first police album.
i ran and rode my bike.  neither to my total satisfaction today.
i showered twice.
i have been restricting what i say as i was told i made certain people uncomfortable.
i can still vomit my crap on my blog.
no muzzle.
i gathered some shells on the beach today for somebody.
decided that every man i have given those kinds of treasures to has kicked me to the curb.
decided the treasures of the sea were about symbolically washing them away from me.
i gave no treasures to anybody today.
i think i am rotating my ankles a little to much when i ride my bike now that i am clipped in.
i think this is made my ankles "freeze" up when i went running today.
yes i know my ankles are joints and i am simply referring to the muscle group that regulates that area of anatomy.
i am not going to edit/proof read this entry.
the anxiety of today has created latent anger that is coming forth.
rejection sucks just like climbing hills on a bike.
it just never gets easier.
there are too few people to talk philosophy with in any kind of detail.
there is simply not enough time in the day.
what can i do? all i want is to be next to you.
i don't know what has come over me,
i know he won't call.
that is why it is imperative to have NO expectations.
i can count on no one.
even the best of people lie.
i wish i could indulge my obsessions.
patience control restraint muzzle
the list is growing.
i was bold tonight and changed my facebook profile picture that is restrained sexy.
i don't care if the rest of you like it or not. I do.
i am a little tired tonight.
i feel a mental retreat starting to happen.
it is insanely hard to keep up anger and retreat when 2 of your closest friends are being sassy, funny, loving & supportive while on facebook.
i am not ready to stop typing.
love will walk thru my door someday.
in the meantime go fast turn left.
and don't spend too much money on babysitters while i pass through this.
wonder if i will sleep well or at all tonight.
are these those monkey mind thoughts i have been hearing about?
why would we want to suppress them?
not as sore as i thought i might be after the 20 mile ride yesterday.
i might be out of things to say of this kind of nature.
or not.
i could try to close my eyes for a minute or two.

Friday, September 7, 2012

With a Roof Right Over Our Heads

I could sit here at quarter past midnight and talk about how I worked a crazy long day, or how I have been working so hard this week I haven't been on my bike except casually since Saturday. I could sit here and bemoan problems with my love life at the moment. Kinda don't want to.  This morning to try to keep me up instead of feeling, well, grumpy, I decided that I was going to listen to my Toots and Maytals Pandora station.  Then in the car it turned into Bob Marley.  Admittedly it has been some time since I have listened to a full Bob Marley album.  Suddenly on my drive to the synagogue I was actually enjoying the heat for a brief moment and I was taken to another space and time when this album was playing....I have, in moments of mental respite from this long day, gone back to that moment in time.

I am guessing that it is something like 1991 maybe? I lived in a quirky garage apartment on Campus Ave in University Heights.  You had to climb a ladder to get from the downstairs up to the kitchen and bathroom.  All highly illegal, I suspect now, as a rental, but was cheap.  The air was not quite as humid as it feels today, but that hot, lazy, late summer feel for San Diego.  Where all the windows are open, and you can hear the cars and people going up and down the alley arguing and laughing. The smell of cigarettes and pot wafting in from those same people slowly sauntering down that alley.  Denizens for all types of activities and my coincidental, voyeuristic eavesdropping while I cooked in my kitchen, with the windows that opened wide out from the structure.  Those beautifully invasive purple morning glories that climbed the entire side of the apartment.  Growing into my kitchen  through the open windows and cracks in the walls, winding around anything and everything, greeting me with purple blooms every morning for breakfast. It was in this kitchen I had a boom box with a cassette player sitting atop an ancient refrigerator.  This delicious piece of machinery played this sweet, rhythmic love song of summer.  If I turned it up loud enough I could hear it through out the tiny place and it even would seep out into the enclosed back yard.  By comparison to now, life was so much more simple. I was broke as fuck, but still managed to have fun now and then. I can feel the breeze blowing through the apartment and swirling through the banana trees and papyrus that dominated the yard.  I can hear the music and smell the vegan chili simmering on the stove.  I have beer in hand, sitting on the grass next to the sidewalk path that led to my apartment.  I have my brushes and acrylic paints out.  I am painting Indian influenced abstract designs (mandalas) on the squares of concrete that are my pathway.  I occasionally lay on a light flannel blanket I have spread out on the cool green grass,  just watch the clouds meander by while I absorbed the cooler breeze.  Laundry is slowly getting done and I can smell the dryer blowing the hot air and soap scent into the ambient air as well.  My cats at that time went outside and are lounging in shady areas of the yard, occasionally tumbling with each other (as they were pretty much kittens then).  Home alone. The peace that comes with that kind of solitude.  In that moment life didn't have to move fast.  Life was selfish and egocentric. I only have the perspective now to see that. It didn't feel that way in that moment, but reflecting on it, I choose to remember what felt to be the ideal of that moment in the toil of today.