Take Another Look











LEAST PATIENT PERSON IN THE WORLD ME.

STUCK IN A CIRCLE ROUND AND ROUND AND ROUND.

GOT TO GET OUT OF THE CIRCLE.

OUT!!!!!! PICK SOMETHING. STAY WITH IT. STOP SETTLING. STOP TRYING TO THINK TWENTY MOVES AHEAD. STOP THIS LIVING IN THE MOMENT STUFF IF IT ISNT WORKING.

IT SOMETIMES WORKS.

BUT MOSTLY… IT FEELS LIKE IM NOT FACING UP TO THINGS.

EXCEPT THINGS THAT I KNOW WONT ANSWER ME.

STILL LOVE ONLY ONE PERSON. EVER. HAVE ONLY LOVED ONE PERSON. THE SAME PERSON. MY PERSPECTIVE SORT OF FLEW OUT THE WINDOW. BUT THEY MAKE ME HAPPY.

BUT I FEAR WE CANT GET BACK TOGETHER. THAT MAKES ME SAD.

ANYWAY ABOUT THE REST OF MY LIFE… I GUESS IF I COULD DEAL WITH ALL FACETS AT ONCE THEY WOULDNT BE FACETS.

ONE AT A TIME.. LIKE MY APPROACH TO LIFE. NEED TO SHIFT MY APPROACH TO LIFE TO MY APPROACH TO STRATEGIZING, OR MY LACK OF STRATEGIZING.

IN THE PAST I JUST SURROUNDED MYSELF WITH PEOPLE WHO HAD THE QUALITIES I DIDNT.

THEN I DRIFTED WITH AND FOUND PEOPLE WHO WERE LIKE ME… IN SOME WAYS. IN DIFFERENT WAYS. THE MAIN DIFFERENCE WAS WHO I CONFIDED IN AND WHO I DIDNT CONFIDE IN.

I AM SOOOOOOOOOOOOO BURSTING

BUT ALSO SO CAUTIOUS

IT IS THIS CRAZY MIXTURE OF HESITANCE AND BOLDNESS.. REPEATS A LOT.

NEED TO PUT IT DOWN.

CRAZY OF ME TO THINK I WOULD JUST LIVE IN MY MOOD IF I TOOK THE THINGS I WAS DOING AWAY.. OR CHANGED THE THINGS I WAS DOING. LIKE THINKING A FISH WOULD CHANGE TO A FROG IF I PUT IT ON LAND.. THAT IS HOW I HAVE BEEN WITH MYSELF.



{March 15, 2010}   Seattle

“You want a sleeve, dahling?” the barista says in his metro sexual tone of voice. I show him the tip of my brown sweatshirt. “Sleeve,” I repeat harmlessly. He reacts with a quaint mixture of how cute with it’s Seattle so it’s romantic and cool. Seattle is like Paris but instead of being about young love and young promise, it is about youth, illusion, and hardship. The promises broken, the naiveté shed, the days that repeat endlessly because you want your love to be more than a song. The hard edges come out, but the metal is the color of a hundred rainbows folded over on top of one another. Too many visions for it to come together. Graffiti too dense to wash over. The mixture is complete. Nodding Off Guy sits in a corner with his creepy stare, his jaundiced skin, and his battled veins. I’ve seen his face around these streets since I was twelve. Two asian girls sit with their calculators dedicated on solving a problem. A man with glasses and shorts and a big mug sits, wearing cache shorts that seem age inapropirate with his thin grey hair as he eyes a magazine, his square glasses stating “I must be an editor of something unimportant but recognized by a small number of people.” A woman of mixed descent wears a scarf and listens to music, her head going up and down. A girl sits on a couch surface, her toes curled up, reading The Stranger and cuddling up inside herself. Just another sunday night, the end to a start of a week. An old man with a hat sits down next to Nodding Off Guy and makes it his night to stare around observing everybody. The baristas do a quick sweep of the room. I remember the last time I was here, my friend saying “what a mix, oh, what a mix.” The music sings in a honey tone, edging everybody on with the lyrics “I feel good,” the song “I Got you” by James Brown.  I can almost feel Janis Joplin in this song but this music is celebration, and there isn’t enough edge for there to be a Janis song. Instead of “can’t do you no harm” she’d be singing “Oh you do me harm, and it feels good, what should I do?” This whole city is beating, it is a heart, it has veins all over the place, veins it doesn’t know what to do with. Veins that are blocked by cholesterol, veins that are blissed out by needle pricks filled with speed or heroin or both. Anything to speed up the mixture of colors. The city says, do it, do it now before you lose the chance. It is the place to lose everything because the next morning you won’t know what hit you or what you lost. The chances, they build up on you like drops on a flower until the flower falls over and the water hits the ground, splattering onto the sidewalk. There is too much color, not enough production. Too much possibility, not enough opportunity. Too much talent, not enough agents. Too much risk, not enough safety. There is a big divide. There is no stealth here, and everybody pretends to be a star. Everybody is young, and everybody can dress how they want. Everybody is immune to judgement, and nobody speaks to each other unless that person is giving you your coffee jolt. Only when you work as a barista do you learn about the people around you. And then you find that they need your inane small talk more than they need their java. You ask them how they are and they erupt. But ask the same person how they are when they are alone, cornered in their space, reading the paper or eyeing the room, and they will guffaw and find another chair. It’s just the way of the city. Don’t approach unless you are below 21 or can pass for 21, or are in the company of somebody who floats like an It-Girl butterfly, attracting party flavor energy everywhere you go. Putting everything into 3-d if need be, or giving everybody orange glasses to see the world from. People need limits, you hear? Just tell them to see it from one shade and you will be the babysitter that helps them as they travel within this acid trip, trying to make something of themself.



{February 22, 2010}   AWAKE

Dreams and more dreams so vibrant. Take the veil of sedation away and I can finally see what is going on without being tied up with a hood over my head. That was the difference in dreams before. Now I’m sore and my eyes are not used to anything but the dark and the dreams are psychotically unpleasant if I play the plots back in my own head- so much sickness, for instance, so much was forced…but I was able to escape the usual horrors but I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself, a few days without the biometer that changes everything in my body- my temperature, appetite, mood, respiratory system, breathing, all so I don’t have to feel what? My own abilities and failures? Who cares about what I’ve been caring about for so long there was a reason and it is so like me to spend all my time dismantling the tiniest spark of confidence left. I think I scared Downey away forever, I mean my whole being patient thing was getting annoying so I threw a grenade in the mix I’m tired of games. It had to do with something relevant at the time…sometimes somebody floats so far away from you (but they might be hiding in the cargo silent u just don’t know) so.u cut the strings or you dive out in the water looking for them anything you do could be fruitless with the opposite approaches u are taking. And while I expect anybody who dares to be involved with me to take a very stealthy approach that could mean being lost at sea for a very long time since the only approach they accept is on their terms; terms they won’t and don’t share with me. So even when I do things on their terms they might not realize it because if they are assuming a stealthy approach it could all be blown to smithereens but I’m not sure of what I’m speaking.



{February 14, 2010}   dream last night

I use a pay phone to call to get instructions to find my compass from Downey my boyfriend, but when he picks up the phone he speaks in a foreign language. I ask in English for a translator and he LAUGHS at me. “No, this time it’s serious” I try to say but he doesn’t hear me, I just know he doesn’t hear me, and suddenly he is talking in English but it is a tennis game report. I eagerly say “You DO know English! Please! You know where to find the compass! I even hid it inside something I gave you but then you moved but you said you still had it but I don’t think you still have it-!” Then the operator asks me if I have another quarter to insert and I don’t, the phone clicks off and I hold the phone to my ear hoping that the operator was a joke, another excommunication, but it wasn’t. I feel betrayed and I roam the streets of the city at two in the morning looking for my compass. I look at Aaron’s apartment, I look at places that “shine” with significance for me as a place. Desperation is the key. Places I went to when I was most desperate. People try to claw at me, saying that they want to know the way, and I tell them I’m the last person to ask, but they say that they disagree, that I am the only person to ask. I find the compass in front of Dicks market in the hands of a 12 year old runaway. She is so young and her eyes are so hard and and her hair is dyed like a rainbow and I want to make her better. She looks up and says nervously “who tipped you off?” I say “Oh my God, you have no idea how hard it was to find you!” She hands me the compass but before I can run after her go question her she is gone. I wonder how she knew to give the compass to me I wonder how it was possible that i found it without instructions. I look at the compass and instead of an arrow turning it says “You Are Lost. East South North and West will never exist for you” I spin around in shock hoping an arrow will jolt into working but instead more people start clawing at me for instructions, they say I know the only way. If being lost is the only way I cannot tell them this, it will destroy all hope. Then I wake up.



et cetera