here i am

It's time to write about something new. This is beginning to sound altogether too self-pitying. I'm beginning to get condolence letters. Okay. Ahem... um.... ah... Okay, wait. Here goes: It has occurred to me that the problem in its entirety consists of little more than the fact that I have NOT been drinking enough water. The End

I'm wrecked. Drained utterly and in every conceivable way from standing across from one another screaming angst into the void. Another punched in the gut ending to a day. Another sitting here alone contemplating nothing 'cos contemplating this is too damned much moment. But my lease starts next week. So I finally put some books in boxes and now I am just too numb to do anything but stare blankly at the dusty shelf and wonder how I'm going to move it from one place to another and why why why. And I'm frozen. How in the hell am I going to finish this. It has taken me an entire month to pack two boxes of books. What the hell do I do with the wedding gifts? The albums? The silver? How do you begin to figure out how to take apart a home, a life, an existence that you've worked so hard - for so long -to build? How do you even do that? When something ends badly, where the hell do you stuff all the good memories? How what why fuck. And I am so damned alone. The though...

I'm back. But I haven't seemed to have had anything to say. California was of course beautiful and sunny and the perfect temperature and I could live forever on the beach among the palm trees and waves and sand and sky and breathe again. I likely will when the time comes. I hope the time comes soon. I could stand on the pier for hours and let that sparkle hypnotize me. I lived on fish tacos and fish n' chips and the Olde Port Inn 's sourdough bread bowl clam chowder. Yay for seafood. Yay for California. List of things to remember to write about: The train down the coast. My new (soon to be) apartment Salsa on 2 A comparison/contrast study of California Dance Snobs vs. Hot Monkey Love My mom and detachment Breathing Heartaches upon waking and being crushed under the weight of the sudden realization that I'm going to be living alone soon The dreaded "Spring" Egg Hunt "conversation" A new employment opportunity (see Breathing) The Pandas ...

New Kicks    They also came with a pair of orange laces - but methinks some teal colored ones are in order, no?  

Even though I do own a stereo, and there is a CD player in my computer, I'm sitting here listening to Ann Peebles on my walkman - 'cos I just got a new one last night for my trip to Californey.    I can't wait to get the dreck out of here.  I don't know why but the grass is greener.  I'm mentally and physically exhausted.  I just want to lay on the beach and do  n-o-t-h-i-n-g.  Granted, the time will likely be spent arguing with mom, as per usual (why do I always convince myself that "it will be different this time"), but I can have my illusions, right?  Anyway, I have an escape hatch, as I will arbitrarily choose the date upon which I catch that train down to San Diego to see an old college pal.  And - whoo hoo - there have been promises of a Mexico trip!  Ah, at long last, to set foot upon the sacred soil of the land of my ancestors... well, at least the cheesy tourist trap border town soil of my ...

Self Portrait  I look kinda tired in this picture and a bit strange... but I like the light.

It is one in the morning. You are asleep on the couch. My neck is stiff from sitting at the computer... doing nothing. Every few minutes a car whooshes by in the night. There's that hollow feeling of bouyant useless empty space when the air conditioner kicks on... because it's not hot in here, but I'm not cold enough to get up and turn it off. Because that would mean walking across the room, and that would entail some purposefulness, and that would yank me from my zombie stare and make me realize I should take my contacts out and go to bed. Which would mean walking past you in the living room and having to make the decision whether or not to wake you and guide you to bed with me. You're stirring now. The fridge begins to hum. I wonder if I could win at solitaire. M

what is that thing that thing that thing where your torso is wrenched in one direction and your stomach in another and your heart is left suspended disconnected sucking in on itself imploding suffocating suspended in agony in midair what is that? i am the smiling wife i am overdressed the insalata caprese was a big hit even though you look at me like i'm an alien when i pronounce it and what does a jewish vegetarian do when handed a plate of baked beans with bacon and a brat on a bun? you are my friend you will always be my friend but since i decided this house can't hold my soul anymore saying i love you feels like a lie and i'm scratching at the walls to get on with this thing this thing this whatever it is so that i don't have to think for too long about what not waking up in your arms is - or what it means to think how foolish it would be to hold on to something just because it might be the best thing that ever happened to you. and how when life begins...

Yesterday was crap. It's been a crap week, generally. I could have smoked. I wanted to smoke. I didn't smoke. I wanted to cash my paycheck and book a flight to Morocco or San Diego or Spain or New York, too. I didn't do that either. The weather is making its turn toward the stifling, gritty heat of late summer. It's not quite here yet, but I can sense its approach. Today the sun is shining through the window and it doesn't glint and it doesn't sparkle - it doesn't buoy my spirit. It illuminates the dust on the TV screen and makes me want to scream. I feel like someone is standing on my chest, and if they let up, this primal rage will rip forth and I will never stop screaming or crying or running. I am losing myself. I've somehow, somewhere, misplaced my sense of independence. I've utterly lost sight of my destiny - and it's killing me, really, really slowly. You don't notice it at first... You make shopping lists and c...

Untitled - Tub Objects  I found this to be visually interesting as an unplanned configuration of random objects.

That moment is the one that kills me. The moment after someone walks away, or you hang up the phone, or walk out the door and sit down - resigned, or indignant, or resigned to indignant indifference. Or any other combination of emotional variables. The moment of the solitary drag combined with sigh. The forced exhalation. The subconscious awareness of suspended dispersion of smoke. It's really just a moment. It's a split second of existing fully present. And that moment is - whether you're smoking or not. That's where the bullshit comes in. M

I'm loathe to admit it, so it's best I admit it. I was romanticizing smoking today. Out in the cold, the heat, the grit, the task. . . some purposeful avoidance, some strange, alienated camaraderie. Other. Squinting at the distance. Pondering. Legs crossed in soft cotton skirt, stranger's shirt, walking boots. . . the sun on my face, on some random bench, in a grimy Guatemalan town square, defiant and knowing. Nine months distance from it and suddenly: a deluge of delusion. What bullshit. M

Self Portrait

I've spent an inordinate amount of time trying to add a photo to my profile. I'm such a techno-loser. It's making me very grrrrrrrr! I give up. I'm going to go have my teeth cleaned. M

Two things: #1 - Barnes and Noble sells read shelf copies whose dust jackets and bindings are tattered and expects you to pay full price for them and their managers are very rude when you inquire about the possibility of some small discount being offered as the item in question is the last one on the shelf and you need it that day. Conclusion 1a - Don't shop at big, fat obnoxious corporate chains. Conclusion 1b - Don't wait till the last minute and you won't have to. Conclusion 1c - They're not getting any more of my business. #2 - The fare checker/booking page on Amtrak 's website sucks (i.e. it doesn't work). Conclusion 2a - No wonder nobody takes the train. Conclusion 2b - See Conclusion 1c above. M

Actually, it's not Monday... but it is rainy. But I'm not down. Just can't figure out what to do with myself when school's out. There's plenty I could (and should) be getting done... don't seem to be able to figure out where to start. Ah well. M

I know that my life could present much grander woes. Nevertheless, my existence is what it is - and it is mine. I have to live it. Okay, so here's the point - difficult people... how does one deal with them? I have spent a disproportionate chunk of my life trying to answer this question. There are people in my life who do their utmost to ensure that I feel like total crap whenever I encounter them. They use velvet daggers and sideways digs and generally insult me without being direct or open about it. I could handle it - if it were DIRECT . But no, it's all under the guise of "being nice". Their ways are so tricky that it becomes next to impossible to put my finger on, or to articulate, just what exactly it is that they are doing. It is being done - I just can't prove it! "Just don't involve yourself with these monsters." Yes, I have evolved to the point where I do disengage from these toxic individuals wherever and whenever possible. But i...

Rainy days make me sleepy. Almost rainy days make me even more sleepy. Today would be a nice day to lay in bed and read and take a nap. But I have things to do. Maybe after I do some things I will lay in bed and read and take a nap. M

What's the point of "publishing" one's private thoughts or goings on for the world to see? Who cares? Why should anyone want to publish or read the potentially pointless minutiae of daily life? Who'd be interested? Shouldn't one publish work that's worth reading? Well written? Edited? Intentioned? On the other hand, I've found a lot of satisfaction in reading some fantastic stream of consciousness things on the web. It's a sort of bold, naked endeavor/adventure, to just come here and spill out and see what ends up choosing to make its arrival. M

This has been too long in coming. I held out for a while, but I'm going to give this thing a go. I couldn't even figure out what to call it. At any rate, here I am, and here it is. Now I have to go get something done in my non-virtual life. M