June 13, 2011 § 1 Comment
This isn’t working:
I woke up to the cries of a child
and she kept me up until I opened the door
and led her to her mother.
I woke up at ten
only to fall asleep again
“Yo, you awake?”
and I heard she was alive.
I hate this, fighting to stay awake
and the night before, at too early in the morning, I said, “Laura can’t wait to wake Arianna up tomorrow.”
We were supposed to have ice cream.
Notrodomous predicts our future
and I eat a sandwich that I have taken the chicken out of because it’s not real.
You’re learning to love you more because he doesn’t and I suppose I’ve come to terms with it,
Your theory is right.
They do love each other.
But it’s sad and I don’t want to share.
It’s our day off.
I think I’m fine
I see the people I admire most
and they make me laugh and remind me of my real power
“Well, I was just being mean to him.” Really mean, and he deserved it.
“I don’t want to kiss you because you don’t deserve it.” So I didn’t, and he left, and I proved a point.
The cat attacked the baby tonight
and she screamed like I’ve never heard her scream before
and for a moment,
I thought she was happy.
December 18, 2010 § Leave a comment
“I give you yourselves.”
Not too long ago, when I thought of who I was and who I used to be, I felt shackled and bound by memories that make no difference now. Not only that but I felt guilty for finally accepting the end of certain friendships. Lord knows I tried, in vain, but now I realize that no matter what people will come and go, like anything else in life.
Johannah wrote to me, her letter was a nice surprise in the mail. In it she said, “we have changed so very much, every one of us, drifting in all sorts of directions. It is all good and completely natural, and I still appreciate those times when we were all so close. But know, it is no longer like that, and that moments can always be cherished but not held on to.”
When I first met Johannah, I was so naiive and terrified. I felt geographically and emotionally unaccounted for those first few months in New York, though I had the luck of being accompanied by such wonderful people as Johannah, Claudia, Kseniya, and Camila. Yet, in the three years since then, I can honestly say that I have grown into a genuinely goodhearted human being who knows what direction she wants to steer her life in.
Carlos and I talked outside one chilly night. We were freezing in our sweaters and not even the drags on our smokes or the sips of our pints could keep us warm. Still, the conversation was good and it was too loud to go inside, so we stayed out in the wind. We realized we had a lot in common that night. For one, he moved back from LA around the same time I moved back from New York.
“It’s always hard keeping up with old friends, especially when they live in a city that’s twenty times as busy as yours,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “But it’s very comforting hearing from them, even if it is only a simple hello. It gives you roots to some place other than home.”
Another year is almost over, again. This last year was a particularly difficult one, not only because I had the aforementioned falling out with friends I once considered my family, but also because I had the hardest time getting myself to write again. In a city where the only locally published magazines mainly feature club hoppers and fashion spreads, it’s hard to find someone who’ll want to read what you have to say. Still, I’m going to keep the tale of the blind men and the elephant in mind over the course of the new year.
Every blind fool only knows what an elephant is depending on what he or she can touch. Keep on reaching for more and you will discover the truth.
December 13, 2010 § Leave a comment
November 18, 2010 § 2 Comments
With a passion they never felt at all, I know I am now loved the way they never could have. Though they were never truly open to me they were always conveniently available and I didn’t have anything else to do either except enjoy myself. So I stuck around, enjoying their company, growing closer, waiting for him. Waiting. Like Daisy in The Great Gatsby, I would always wait for the longest day in the year and when it finally came I would perpetually miss it. Year after year, I was stupid.
I put so much weight on what never really mattered to begin with. It is so much easier to be hysterical when you are engulfed in the flames of the ruins. We made our decisions and I made my mistakes, and now, I am in something real, simply put. Sometimes I read books without realizing I finished them, and when I get home I am anxious to see what happens next, but there is nothing else.
And so, they bleed into my thoughts and evolve while I’m asleep. I dream in strange segments, about children or death or worship. I dreamt that Henry was alive, and in this dream he dies and everything after that is in vain. I remember thinking, in my dream, “It isn’t fair, you shouldn’t have to die twice.”
Days go by without my noticing they have come and gone. Now I live monthly, by what my body is telling me. The moon is fuller, heavier, brighter and with it comes shorter tempers, longer hours, and the realization that I am closer to another exquisite year alive. For that I am grateful.
January 19, 2010 § 2 Comments
“‘Being sacrificed in the underworld actually means being reborn in the real world.’
It was just disease that desamated their populaiton… Talking about the astronomical system: they, the first to recognize Venus – the morning star and the night star. We now recognize Venus is the same at night and day.”
— undated, unremembered journal entry accidentally found a few weeks ago. Still, can’t stop thinking about it…
Jonathan bought me a complete collection of Flannery O’Connor’s short stories. Reading them makes me sad, not because of the content but because I wish she hadn’t died so young.
I’ve grown closer with a couple of girls from work. We scramble once a month to find time to have dinner together, to see each other in new environments. Another girl just started not too long ago, and already I think she’ll become a good friend. People come and go so quickly. In with the good, out with the bad we always say. No matter what, the loyal always stick around regardless of time or space.
“I cheated on my boyfriend the other night,” a friend told me, “but it was with another girl so I don’t think he’ll mind.” It’s all in the wording sometimes, I guess.
Days go by faster when the sun is hiding behind clouds. There’s no way of telling what time it may be by looking out the window. It always just looks like 10 AM out there.
When we first moved in together, Jonathan and I worried we wouldn’t have enough space. Spending evenings with friends was of no help either. They would usually end the night by arguing, making us feel like nothing but fuel to the fire. I couldn’t help but envision fights, constant annoyances, anything that would command space apart or shut doors to separate us. But the aforementioned argumentation never occurred. We aren’t like them.
Still, even if one of us goes into another room to eat, or paint, or read, or make dinner, the other soon pursuit. There’s a certain comfort that comes from knowing just being together is what we like to do.
It’s about loving each and every morning together, even if it means crooked necks, knotted up into hard mounds of dried up muscle, or stomach aches because hey, at least we’re waking up to another day of reading and eating and living.
My stomach can’t handle coffee anymore, the medication I’m taking irritates it too much and I can’t even drink half a cup without feeling like I’m about to hurl. However, my appreciation for tea had grown considerably. Green, mint, orange and spice, chamomile, oh the possibilities are endless. I’ve yet to drink a tea I don’t like.
I left far too many things in Brooklyn that I shouldn’t have. Plates, yoga mats, a desk lamp, my laptop charger. I can’t find them anywhere, and then I remember, “OH I LEFT THEM IN BROOKLYN.”
A cup I broke, drank endlessly fom, my favorite for the whole time I lived in New York shattered to pieces on the floor one night around the time I started to fall out of love with the city. I still miss it.
A tea kettle I bought here was defective. I’d boil water but it never even chirped.
This morning though, it finally whistled.
October 13, 2009 § 6 Comments
Enclosed by still-so-sweltering heat, I continue to live well in the desert despite constant threat of withering in the sun. I have to wear my hair up and my face turns red if I walk outside, even now at the start of October. But in the mornings on my way to work, I find sanctuary in air conditioned buses where I oftentimes need a sweater to stop from shivering. At Jonathan’s house, always so frigid, I dive under the covers the moment I enter his room, preempt of goosebumps and a sniffling nose.
The other day, Jonathan and I took a few minutes to note on the length of my hair. Though not very long at all, it seemed much longer, fuller than the day before. Johannah chopped it all off a year ago one particularly inconsequential Sunday, as Claudia watched with one hand pressed against her forehead and her jaw dropped wide open. I looked into the mirror as Johannah snipped away at strands of hair and wondered what I’d look like in the morning.
“Seven o’clock already and still such a fog.”
There is a time to wait things out, to enjoy things together even though you’re not sure if forever, tomorrow, children, anything is certain. I’m having a hell of a hard time swallowing my own saliva these days. Like an oracle, my body issues severe warnings against my former lifestyle, meanderings, obligations.
Every month, I sit out cramps and nausea praying to God it’s nothing serious, like cancer or a baby. At this point of my life, green means blood, means life, means independence. I spent a lot of money on myself today, and for once I didn’t feel guilty. I work hard every single day, and there’s nothing stopping me from enjoying what little free time I have.
A friend recently told me she was in the market for some new friends. It appeared to me that she was lonely, and instantly I felt guilty for not making enough time for her. We promised to reserve at least one afternoon a week for each other and I suggested being more social, like we used to be before significant others and jobs and school and being adults took up all of our time.
Growing up seems to be a main issue of concern to some people I know. Some of my old friends don’t even know who I am anymore. They love me, they enjoy spending time with me, but they don’t trust me. New blood never did sit well with some of them anyway, and they’ve been waiting for the day, that tiny instant where I mess up so they can finally say, “we told you so.”
“It’s not the tragedies that kill us, it’s the messes,” said Dorthy Parker in an interview for the Paris Review. “I can’t stand messes.” I couldn’t agree more.
September 20, 2009 § Leave a comment
We take time in making sure that everything is right where it needs to be; work, family members, condoms. They’re all there, and just waiting to be noticed.
Just recently, Jonathan and I drove into the desert, making our way into the heart of the Tularosa basin just to watch the sun set. There, hills and hills of white sand form the largest pure gypsum dune field in the world.
A storm had been brewing all day long, and by the time we got to White Sands, it sounded as if the sky had an upset stomach.
Mounds of sand looked like snow, white lizards ran silently from one plant to another, unseen. Jonathan dug holes for me to rest in, and I dragged him from the peaks of a hill down to its base then back up again.
The sun set behind black clouds quicker than anticipated and we were still walking through the sand, everything looking just like everything else. A tree grew in the middle of nowhere, but as Ryan reported to us, sand had blown up all around it, totally hiding the trunk and allowing only the topmost branches to pop out of the ground.
Once we found our way back to the car, we shook off all the sand that had clung to us and made our way back home.
I’ve made new friends at work, and sometimes I spend more time with them than I do with my old friends and family. I’ve been working a lot, waitressing at a burger bar by UTEP. Its stressful work sometimes but it gets me places, like Ruidoso and Brooklyn for one. People there are also really friendly. Being the 4th best burger place in all of Texas, a few out of towners pop in with plenty of interesting things to say more often than not.
No matter how many times I clean my room at night, it always gets dirty again by the next day. Well, not so much dirty as messy, and not so much messy as lived in. Someone with a great library must have recently died because Jonathan and I found over 40 great books at a thrift store. I spent half my paycheck in there without feeling the slightest bit of remorse.
We also found a box of really old, valuable National Geographic’s at another thrift store by my house. We bought an original first issue for only 10 cents. We intended on saving it for our children and grandchildren to share, but we accidently hacked into it one afternoon for an art project.
Its ok though, I’m sure we’ll find another one someday.