now
quiet=numb
or protection
or mania
but nothing in between.

first love

we met on the front lawn of my erstwhile (gay) boyfriend's house.
He asked if i wanted to go across the street to meet his best friend since he was 4.
In was the last few days of my sophmore year in high school

We spent the next few years attached at the hip.
We wrote what amounted to love letters in gorgeous prose
with all angst and trauma and passion
We wrote them 8 times a day
once for each time we passed in the hall
tokens of our undying friendship and adoration for each other.
promises that we would be the godparents of each others children
that we would never leave one another
that we would be 'bff'

i owe my writing to her.

i owe all the practice of pouring my unfiltered, squishy, love lorn guts out
onto a blank page to her.

i owe my bravery to her.

she allowed me to do it without ever making me feel self-conscious

she would tell me they were beautiful.

she is still doing it.

happy 20th anniversary
my bff.

undistracted

somewhere over the midwest
i started to cry
when i realized that
this gorgeous, brilliant, brave monster
is my karma
for anything i have ever done wrong
and everything i have ever done right

note

to whom it may concern:

your notes make me feel better
it doesnt feel 'elegant'
it feels sad
and awful
and lonely

thank you for sticking with me.

half a yellow

i will take a little pill tonight to put myself out
to keep me from thinking about having pulled her mail out of the mailbox
or seeing her things in the closet
or sleeping next to the pillow that she had her head on
not a week ago
or knowing that i have a mess to clean up in the toy box
and knowing that when i open it the tears will come

this is easier for her in every way
i am still here
in the middle of all the ghost images
of playing house

i want to tell her about the camera oobscura in the airplane hangar
and the guy making the new LEDs

but all i can do is wait for half yellow to take over
and fall into another dreamless sleep.

i was asked o contribute a story to a publication in NY
so I have been going through the archives of the old blog.

I just read through the last almost 4 years of my life
and the downward spiral of the last year
was horrifying to watch
at the speed with which i can read.
i wrote nothing of any value
except to the extent that i am now able to see and recognize the decline
and how stupid and blind i was to it.
that i was unaware of the mess that i was making even as it unfolded in front of me
in my own words

now i am left to sit quietly
and test my strength.

1.11.2005

shes never felt fishnet stockings

it was this simple thing that i had never thought of until today.

she was running her fingers over the strands of elastic and the slight snapping noise and the set of her jaw reminded me of watching a kid understand physics for the first time and the new found knowlege that they have some say in the world.

i am calm
i feel at home with her
i don't worry that i am going to annoy her with my rocking
or losing my keys
i am more aware of interupting her when she is talking
i kiss her before i go out to walk the dog
and if i don't, before i am halfway down the block i will text her to tell her that i am sorry that i forgot
not because she would be mad but because i am sorry
i can spend days at a time with her and not feel like i need 'downtime'
i can talk to my friends about how i feel about her in front of her.
we don't need to 'analyze our relationship'
it just is
it is weightless and easy and on the table
the first time we ever talked about 'us' and why it worked i almost felt violated
i was afraid that it would lose its magic

i told her that i loved her first
and not as a reaction to it being said to me.

i have had this theory that you get one chance at your 'life's great love' and if you fuck it up, you get what you get and you have to make the best of it.

i was ready to throw in the towel and settle because i thought i had had my chance
it had never occurred to me that maybe i hadn't met my 'life's one great love' yet.

until recently

sometime this summer someone said to me something about "if it doesn't work out with you two...."
i said "if it doesn't work out with us, i would stop believing"
the person thought i was being dramatic
but i still feel that way.
i can't imagine how it couldn't.

she told me that other day that she never wants to take for granted my way of dealing with things.
i think that part of my ability to take in stride, things that other people find far to much to handle, is her.
all of the outside things that we have had to handle feel like a drops in the ocean.
small things that pale in comparison to how i feel when we are standing on the platfom waiting for the train and i am watching her face and the joy that she is taking in running her hands over my fishnets.

im still not angry
im waiting and it hasnt come
i miss her
and the part of me that knows that shes right
is the part of me that doesnt act out
the part of me that is still playing for 'the team'
keeps my hands and my mouth to myself.
the part of me that feels as if my flesh would crawl off my body
if i were to touch someone else's skin

the part of me that misses sharing all my little things with her
is the part that means more than trying to explain that
yes i am here and kissing you
but my brain and my heart are somewhere else.

i feel so helpless.
i am watching her float out of sight.
and this all seems so horrible and wrong.
and the only thing i can do is cry.

darkest before

i have nothing approximating a 'poker face'
i don't 'hold my cards close to my chest'
all things considered i am a completely transparent creature.
i have never been good at hiding how i feel
and this is no exception
i knew it would get worse before it got better
i just wasn't sure how much worse.