for religion I tend to check "other" and write in "newtonian"

In two weeks I'll be 29.

I remember scoffing when my undergrad adviser told me life didn't even begin to make sense til you turn 30. now I totally get what he meant.

karma is nothing more than Newton's 3rd law.

there doesn't have to be some great moral or spiritual breakthrough where I have a marvelous epiphany and then everything stops hurting and baby Jesus soars off with my heavy burdens.

just like there isn't a miracle cure for my fibro. there's x amount of things I can do that all contribute in a small way, but on the whole I am accepting that my life is going to be grueling for whatever's left of it and the important thing is for me to feel like I matter.

28 has gone by really fast. I went home for xmas, to Columbus for New Year's, got off some meds, watched Rosie die, got off some more meds, had surgery, started school. somewhere in there I learned a whole hell of a lot about what love really is.

I learned that I can't push myself all the way to my limits because my brakes aren't good enough to stop me right there at the end of my energy... I have to cut myself off BEFORE I am exhausted. physically or emotionally.

I'm learning to recognize how dangerous my "little sister syndrome" is- my need to be as tough and strong as everyone around me, even when they are healthy, strong neurotypicals. it's ridiculous. I'm frakking tough as hell. I don't need to prove anything.

I'm realizing that I have an aversion to studying for anatomy because I associate muscles and tendons with surgery- more pain. I am not entirely sure how to break this conditioning.

most of all, I am finally able to enjoy solitude again. I had way too much of it for a time, but now it's precious.

still.

it would be so nice

I think I've gotten closer to finding the right balance of supplement but gods what an obscene amount of pills.

600 mg 5 htp at bedtime for serotonin.
100 mg theanine 2x a day for dopamine/GABA. (just got this today and I'm pretty optimistic. seems to help with the pain and brain fog.)
100 mg coQ10 in the am to help form ATP.
6000 mg fish oil divided into am/pm doses for insomnia, depression, dry skin, memory, etc etc etc.
2.5 mg Marinol (thc) 2x a day for pain and appetite.

plus a mineral supplement that is 4 horse-pills, plus Emergen-Cs, plus liquid chlorophyll.


hopefully this will help keep me functioning, as long as my dad is willing to pay for it all. shit ain't cheap.

Poem for Monday, November 17, 2008

It is That Dream

by Olav H. Hauge

It's that dream we carry with us
That something wonderful will happen,
That it has to happen,
That time will open,
That the heart will open,
That doors will open,
That the mountains will open,
That wells will leap up,
That the dream will open,
That one morning we'll slip in
To a harbor that we've never known.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

time spent in the shadow of the thing too big to see, rising.

'm a big fan of David Foster Wallace, have been since I was 19 and read Infinite Jest in my dorm room bunkbed with a flashlight. I was really sad to hear how miserable he was the last year of his life. none of the meds worked for him, even the one he had been on for years. having been through a major clinical depression and now living with unending pain, I can only empathize with him.

I hope that if my illness ever gets to where nothing works to alleviate my pain and it's unbearable, the people who love me will let me go.

this is worth reading if you have read anything he wrote.

http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/23638511/the_lost_years__last_days_of_david_foster_wallace#

but the drugs don't work; they just make you worse

the hardest part in dealing with this pain is knowing that there is absolutely nothing i can do to make it stop. except weep and endure.

days like this i don't think i'd turn down junk if it were made available.

Poem for Monday, November 10, 2008

Who Knows What is Going On

by Juan Ramon Jimenez

Who knows what is going on on the other side of each hour?

How many times the sunrise was
there, behind a mountain!

How many times the brilliant cloud piling up far off
was already a golden body full of thunder!

This rose was poison.

That sword gave life.

I was thinking of a flowery meadow
at the end of a road,
and found myself in the slough.

I was thinking about the greatness of what was human,
and found myself in the divine.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

every year I go through a phase of denial about how badly the winter weather affects my health.

my pain levels have been around 8/10 for a week or so now and I've been having a hard time sleeping. the wind is about 25 mph most days so biking kicks my ass. I got a new cog for my back wheel so I'll be in an easier gear, and I'm hoping that will help. I have to accept that I am pretty much going to feel awful all the time no matter what and try to keep on.

I'm having a hard time getting any studying done because of my health. the pain seems to trigger the fight or flight mechanism in my brain so I have to battle a constant feeling of panic. zen meditation. I'm very intimidated by my 30 hour week schedule next semester. I'm sure I'll end up dropping something. I have to be patient with myself. accept my limits.

I know part of why I feel so shitty is from pushing myself too hard.

I feel like I am covered in 2nd degree burns from the waist down from being on my feet for a few hours yesterday. the SOFA art thingy was lovely but I ended up pretty disheartened by how exhausted and pain-stricken I was by the end of it. mermaid feet for sure.


dating seems to be working pretty well. it's hard for me to accept that someone would want to be around me when I am not feeling well. I have a hard time balancing out my sickness with the rest of me, which is in fact pretty awesome. it's been so wonderful to have company on my Bad Days, though. mostly I just have to focus on now, instead of on future endings.

I seem to have stopped thinking of myself as crazy about 2 months ago. it just ceased to be part of who I am. Now I'm just someone who is trying really really hard despite feeling like she's being burned alive.

a good friend from back home has a film at the Reeling festival and invited me to go see it. I'm excited, although a little afraid of homesickness.

a month left til my birthday.

yes, we DID!!!!!

4 years ago I woke up, voted, packed a bag, and checked myself into the state mental institute. The triage unit for mental health at the Med is small, cramped, and very cold, and once you enter you can't leave. I spent about 20 hours locked up with Memphis's sickest folks, watching the states turn red and feeling very lost and very broken.

Despite Obama's lead in the polls I don't have much hope that he'll actually win. The Republican war machine has its rusty claws way too deep in our country to be extricated with just an election. It's going to be rigged just like the last two.

I hope there are no riots.

Poem for Monday, October 27, 2009

Waking

by Roger Sauls

I couldn't see the nuthatch
or the wren as they raked alphabets
on the dull tin of the gutter.
This early, waking is a kind of weather,
a fog, perhaps, that you meet
on the way to the mind's next landscape.
So I set out for the yard, where grackles
threw pebbles in the air for joy.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

I have been struggling (as always) with feeling extremely run-down this past week. the wind has picked up considerably (between 10-25 mph) this past week and I've been having a lot of of pain in my chest from riding without enough layers. I've skipped the Zen temple for several weeks in a row and have suffered emotionally as a result. I try to meditate at home but I'm pretty lazy. I know if I want to keep functioning and not let stress send my body into a static feedback crash I have to make time to take care of myself, whether it be a 10 minute sit, an hour walk, or a trip to the library.

today it was a trip to the amazing, ginourmous, better-than-church downtown library. got a few books, one of which I am quite excited about.

I'm about two chapters into All in My Head, writer Paula Kamen's fantastic book about her battle with chronic headaches as well as that of others. So far it's a thoroughly well-written and researched read. it's inspiring for when I ever get around to writing my fibro book.

on her site there are a decent set of links, mainly dealing with headache. there's a very, very well-done list of Dos and Don'ts for relating to someone with Chronic Fatigue that made me want to cry and pump my fist in the air and then send it to everyone I know.

For example:

DON'T suggest that my symptoms might not be so severe if I didn't dwell on them, cater to them, give them so much attention, let them run my life. In fact, that is the very philosophy that led to the collapse of my health in the first place. I maintain what vitality I do have by careful attention to even small changes in my body.

DON'T suggest new supplements or treatments unless I have asked. Like most single dykes with the disease, I have experienced a drastic and terrifying reduction of resources. And like most women living on very low fixed income, I have had to evolve a highly refined and customized process for cost-benefit analysis. It has taken me years to fine-tune my regimen of supplements and foods. Yes, I am sure I would benefit from massage, blood tests, medical care, organic food, acupuncture, and chinese herbs, but I can't afford them. Unless, of course, you want to buy them for me. Classism and ableism go hand-in-glove, and in case you don't know, health care in this country is a privilege, not a right.

really effing brilliant. I've had so many well-meaning people tell me about some miraculous supplement that cured someone they know and it's getting harder and harder not to take offence. thanks, but when my life is a choice between eating enough to keep my weight up and taking yet another supplement, I'm going with food.

I've started taking St John's wort again in addition to 5-htp, what with the winter breathing down my neck already. I've been having bad bouts of depression at more or less the same time every day, the early afternoon. it's hard not to let it suck me in. getting my blood flowing helps, as does chocolate. it certainly does feel like a dementor attack...

time to watch Lost until I'm ready for sleep.

oh and

my bloodwork all came back negative. my doctor wants me to eat 3000 calories a day and if I can't gain a pound a week, come back in a month or so for more tests.

still feel pukey a LOT of the time. still having thumpy heart and tight chest. still having trouble sleeping.

but I'm not dying any time soon.

good lord willing and the creek don't rise.

ned called me "hipster bait"

"if i wanted to catch a hipster guy, i would put you in a cage with some marquez and a gameboy and come back later in the day with like 12 skinny jeans boys all crammed in there."

Poem for Monday, October 20, 2008

Waiting on Elvis, 1956

by Joyce Carol Oates

This place up in Charlotte called Chuck's where I

used to waitress and who came in one night

but Elvis and some of his friends before his concert

at the Arena, I was twenty-six married but still

waiting tables and we got to joking around like you

do, and he was fingering the lace edge of my slip

where it showed below my hemline and I hadn't even

seen it and I slapped at him a little saying, You

sure are the one aren't you feeling my face burn but

he was the kind of boy even meanness turned sweet in

his mouth.

Smiled at me and said, Yeah honey I guess I sure am.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

props

I forget to give myself credit.

I've been through a lot this past year and still managed to keep my self-destructive behavior in check. I was having a rough time for a couple weeks, and despite the fact that inside my mind and body was not a fun place to be, I still managed to take refuge in things that keep me safe. Meditating, biking, reading, watching Lost; I haven't gotten wasted or used someone else's body as a means to escape mine in more than half a year. which is definitely a new record for me.

I seem to have accepted the fact that my physical condition might never improve much more. it's a hard and bitter pill to swallow, and I sure do get dose after dose of it multiple times a day, but I am being brave. I am strong. I might cry a lot, but I'm nota drug addict. Every other person with chronic pain I've met was an oxycodone addict, but I want to have a life, and being on pain meds is a dead-end street. Hell, it's a Thelma and Louise style full on acceleration towards a cliff.

Lately, when my physical state becomes overwhelming, I try to tell myself "this is just one more thing you will be good at treating."

it helps.


but I sure as hell can't sleep for shit lately.

Poem for Monday, October 13, 2008

If the Moon Happened Once

by Kay Ryan

If the moon happened once,

it wouldn't matter much,

would it?

One evening's ticket

punched with a

round or a crescent.

You could like it

or not like it,

as you chose.

It couldn't alter

every time it rose;

it couldn't do those

things with scarves

it does.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

the waiting is the hardest part

I've been steadily losing weight for a while now, way past what I put on drinking and taking meds, I'm down to 112, which is what I weighed in, um, 9th grade?

during my acupuncture treatment Friday my intern told me the clinic supervisor insisted that I go see a physician to get checked out. I looked at her and said "what could it be?" she shrugged and said "glands? cancer?"

so of course I've been totally freaking out for the past couple days, more than usual.

I'm fairly certain I have hyperthyroidism, because my grandmother had thyroid disease and I seem to have inherited a lot of her health problems, and because I have all the main symptoms. unexplained weight loss, nausea, hot flashes, heart palpitations, elevated pulse, joint pain, diarrhea, yeah... fun.

if that IS what I have, I'm still sticking with Chinese medicine and nutrition, because the western treatments involve burning out your thyroid permanently via injection of radioactive iodine or else taking medications that kill all your white blood cells.

I'm really, really scared. I have no fat left on my body and I feel very, very fragile. It is painful for me to sit on most furniture and my bedsprings poke me through the mattress pad so I wake up feeling bruised. I've been crying for three days. it's so scary not to know what is wrong and to feel so horrible.

and to go through this alone, without a close friend to cry on, with no-one to go to for comfort, it's almost unbearable.

all I can do is keep breathing.

I get my blood tested Wednesday.

profile

I'm really good at writing personal ads and filling out online profiles. it's so easy to summarize myself in a handful of snappy lines. I ride my bike I like to cook I have various geek/literary themed tattoos I am hella wicked smart I read a lot I don't drink I don't smoke I like Battlestar Galactica.

when I write it all out I think I come across pretty well. I sound downright awesome. hell, I totally fracking rule. so why am I still so sad?

I know I am pretty and smart and funny and caring. I try to balance all this out with the feeling of worthlessness I have left over from my adolescent traumas and from dealing with my sickness.

7 months of menstrual suppression and I have morbid PMS. I'm inexplicably sad. there's not much I can do but hole up on the futon with Dr Who, then spend all the money I will get from cleaning my boys' house on chocolate.

wait it out.

Poem for Monday, October 6, 2008

To a Reader

by Robert Hass

I've watched memory wound you.

I felt nothing but envy.

Having slept in wet meadows,

I was not through desiring.

Imagine January and the beach,

a bleached sky, gulls. And

look seaward: what is not there

is there, isn't it, the huge

bird of the first light

arched above first waters

beyond our touching or intention

or the reasonable shore.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

take us apart and put us back together right

This band from Champaign,Headlights, are my favorite biking music lately.
I've been listening to this song in particular a whole lot in the past few days. it seems pretty relevant to what's going on in my life right now, in a very comforting way.

Strange winds are blowing me down this way.
There's no prize in sight but the pain in my feet but I won't remember after tonight.
The clock turns red and the word on the street is that we are getting ready to leave.
Behind me I've forgotten to check all of the things that somehow now I don't seem to need.

Stepping over broken doors down in the street, all the chairs and tables lay on their sides.
We have to turn them over and stand them upright so we can leave them on their feet for the night.
So we can leave them on their feet for the night.

Take us apart and put us back together right, so we can leave on our feet in the night.

Poem for Monday, September 29, 2009

The Everly Brothers

by Floyd Skloot

My brother thought they were freaks

of nature, voices fitting together

through some fluke of chemistry.

He said they might just as well

have been Siamese twins sharing

a heart or the Everly humpbacks.

My brother preferred Jerry

Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry.

He cackled at their antics,

battering mother's baby

grand with his fists when we

were alone and duckwalking

the hallway until our downstairs

neighbors hit the ceiling

with a broom. At night he worked

on his Elvis sneer while caking

his face with Clearasil.

I can still see my brother

rave as we rode four stories

up in the quaking elevator.

He offered me one frenzied

groove of Yakety Yak at the top

of his lungs when I tried

to sing. All I wanted was

his voice joining mine in

harmony. The song did not

have to be about faith in love.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

I can never say no to anyone but you

I just finished watching Teeth with my best guy friend. We were both profoundly disturbed, but for completely different reasons. He, for the normal-male-fear-of-penis-severing, me for much uglier reasons.

I was raised in a pretty Christian household. My mom had me praying for Jesus to bring me a husband from before I was old enough to understand sex, and by the time I figured out the mechanics of it (thanks to a fascinating 4 pages in a Ken Follett novel) the world had already started to sour around me.

Somewhere around the age my brother started trying to pin me down, my best friend got raped. Everyone called her a slut and said she was lying. She started spiraling out of control and I was angry enough to go along for the ride. There was no protection, no guarantee of safety. Nothing but lies. Sex wasn't some beautiful prize, it was a power struggle, always with a winner and a loser.

We were 13.

I ran away at the end of the summer. I'd been on Prozac for a couple months, on and off, and this was back before they knew about the erratic behavior side effect. I went for a walk down to the river park and ended up camping in the woods with some older kids I'd bummed cigarettes off before. By the end of the first night I'd decided I might as well lose my virginity. It wasn't worth anything. It wasn't special. The guy was 19, and not gentle. I have no idea how he could have bought the lie that I was 15, because I looked about 12.

It was my first kiss, too.

It was like being told a secret so huge it ripped me apart from the inside.

The next day I limped to the picnic shelter restroom and washed up. Looking in the mirror I imagined myself somehow infinitesimally wiser. Powerful. Bitter.

Then, of course, I got sent off to long-term brainwashing camp, where I was forced to repeat over and over that I had had sex because I was a drug addict, in front of large groups of other inmates, as well as in front of my mother. Then I spent the rest of high school under hardcore vigilance. I spent a lot of time listening to the Cure's darkest songs, especially the Figurehead.

I will never be clean again...

My first weekend in the dorms at Rhodes, I went to a frat party with a guy, Adam White, who was friends with a girl in my dorm. We went "just as friends," since I'd just starting dating this guy Josh and was really into him. Adam got me really drunk-my second time ever- and took me back to his room and next thing I knew he was in me. I was so wasted all I could think was that Josh was going to be so hurt and that this wasn't supposed to be happening. When it was over I staggered into the shower and sat sobbing under the spray. I remember lying on the cement out in the middle of campus watching the stars reel overhead, and I remember Josh coming to get me and crying when I told him what happened. I couldn't understand why he was so sad.

I don't think I've ever not been fucked up about sex. I've had a lot of it, and some of it's been really fantastic, but most of it seems to have been the kind of wasted and sordid one-night stands you only have when you really hate yourself. I tried to convince myself that I was just empowered, that I could be liberated and deatched and in control or callous and cold-hearted, but really I just thought of myself as disgusting and used-up and corrupted.

I did a lot of things I am not proud of, especially toward the end of 2007, when my antagonism toward my body was at its hardest.

I've had this mysterious bladder pain for about 6 months now, which is also the longest period of celibacy I've had since I was 17. It's gotten to where I have actually resigned myself to never having sex again.

Part of me wonders if my subconscious and my vagina are conspiring against me.

Do I really think I deserve this? Have 8 months of therapy really not even made a dent in this mountain of guilt and shame?





Deep breath. I have two tests tomorrow, and I can't figure this out tonight.

Poem for Monday

Poem for Monday, September 22, 2008

For the Children

by Gary Snyder

The rising hills, the slopes,

of statistics

lie before us.

the steep climb

of everything, going up,

up, as we all

go down.

In the next century

or the one beyond that,

they say,

are valleys, pastures,

we can meet there in peace

if we make it.

To climb these coming crests

one word to you, to

you and your children:

stay together

learn the flowers

go light

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

I can't seem to keep weight on, and it worries me. or rather, it adds to the general anxiety I have about my health declining. I'm sick again, feverish and achy, swollen glands, exhausted. If I'm not better by next week I am going to go get tested for mono.

I got a flickr pro account and was looking at pictures from last year. compared to then I look emaciated.

I'm so fed up with being sick. I have a good day, then I overdo it and get sick again.

acceptance. acceptance. I might never get any better. I need to focus on being grateful for what health I do have. some days I have to chant to myself "at least I don't have lupus. at least this won't kill me."

I miss having a social life. I miss dating. it's been since April since I had someone cuddle me. I don't know how to talk to regular people anymore. all I seem able to talk about is fibro. being sick has consumed me and I don't know what is left.

Poem for Monday

Poem for Monday, September 15, 2008

Moving Day

by Jay Meek

Our lamps sit on the lawn

as though

we lived there we roll

our rugs into documents

of

nothing new this is our last

house before the river we are

leaving

our lives again our radio

keeps playing Music

for

the Royal Fireworks we are

drifting downriver farther

and

farther from it where

are we going into our own

voices

saying go back go back

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

por fin escampa

For the past two days I've been feeling less depressed and restless than I can remember feeling for months. I'm sure it's due to too many factors to pick just one, so I won't.

It's lovely to be able to spend time in my apartment reading and napping in bed without feeling a pressing need to Get Outside. Granted, it's pouring down rain and my bike isn't working, but the horrible urgent restlessness that has plagued me all summer has finally abated.

Bless you, Minor Bupleurum. The whole idea that emotional balance can be achieved by balancing internal organs makes a lot of sense to me, since the western/corporate medical idea of just treating the brain certainly hasn't done shit. (as a side-note, skullcap+marinol=total psychedelic za-na-nas, seeing trails, blissed out. I'm looking forward to doing more research with drug-herb interactions, since I will probably end up treating mostly chronically ill patients.)

I have a few chapters to read for my Clinical Counseling class, and some laundry to do, and meals to prepare for my 8 hour day tomorrow, so I'll have to venture out into the rain, but I'm pretty unfazed. I've been a cranky bitch for a while and it's a relief not to be so angry and frustrated and anxious, so I don't mind.

I'm finally starting to feel like me again. this goes beyond the number being unemployed and bored out of my skull did on my psyche. this is more that I am finally able to move the physical discomfort of my everyday life to the back burner, to minimize its window. yeah, I feel like shit. no, it probably won't ever go away. at least it's not so upsetting anymore.

whew

I decided to drop the class I had Wednesday nights and it's like taking off a pair of sunglasses I didn't realize I was wearing indoors. it was a fairly interesting class, the philosophical and historical foundations of Chinese medicine, but as far as priorities go, the two classes I have the next day are so much more important. I just couldn't get home and get to bed on time and I was toddler-faced and attention span-less through my long 8 hours of class.

So far, after two weeks, I'm pretty excited. half of the classes I am taking now are not super challenging, just a lot of review and rote learning. I haven't taken biology since 1997 and I never took anatomy. I am glad my school really emphasizes biosciences, because I hope to do a lot of research later on in my career. I still remember what mitochondria are and all that, so I am not reallt worried.

We've discussed yin and yang characteristics in several of my classes and it's been interesting to try to identify myself. I have come to the conclusion that I have excessive yin and almost totally depleted yang, probably as a result of being forcibly medicated in my teens when I was still growing. it definitely makes sense to me, even on a nutritional level. When I am feeling really poorly, I crave certain foods, all of which are very yang- I want hot, spicy, garlicky meats and chocolate, I want sunshine, I want to be warm and active. When I am feeling well, my natural personality comes out- I'm bubbly, excitable, exuberant, impulsive. When I feel bad, I am quiet and withdrawn.

I've done a few things in the past week to try to test this hypothesis, mostly eating more meat and only listening to upbeat music (according to Tony, my tai ji teacher, rap music is yang, so I have been pretty much exclusively listening to Jay-Z and Missy Elliott). I also decided to take a break from birth control and menstrual suppression, since birth controls add yin energy and I already have way too much of that.

I'm optimistic again. I feel surprisingly ok today, especially for a nasty rainy day punctuated by uterus spasms. I got some really cute skull & crossbone galoshes and some winter gloves, so I'm one step closer to being ready to ride in the snow. if it ever stops raining I will be able to start getting my new fixie put together.

It might take me slightly longer than I anticipated to finish grad school, hopefully no more than an extra semester. I have to accept my limitations, and keeping up with an overload is just not possible if I want to do well.

After an email inquiry I sent, the assistant dean is trying to get a disability support group going at school. I hope some of the more advanced students respond. I could definitely still use lots of guidance.

Fwd: Poem for Monday

The Grade-School Angels

by Rafael Alberti (trans. Mark Strand)

None of us understood the dark secrets of the blackboards

nor why the armillary sphere seemed so remote when we looked at it.

We knew only that a circumference does not have to be round

and than an eclipse of the moon confuses the flowers

and speeds up the timing of the birds.

None of us understood anything:

not even why our fingers were made of India ink

and the afternoon closed compasses only to have the dawn open books.

We knew only that a straight line, if it likes, can be curved or broken

and that the wandering stars are children who don't know arithmetic.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

restore from saved game y/n

The summer is pretty much over at this point. I feel like the past month has flown by. I've felt a lot better mentally and physically, despite brutal allergies and trouble sleeping.

Good things have just been dumped in my lap lately. My parents decided they wanted to buy me a new MacBook and some school clothes. I sent an email out to my bike club offering my old linux box to the first taker, and Alex at West Town offered to trade me a bike for it, which is fantastic. My Specialized Globe has been way too big for me for a while, and the back wheel is pretty damaged from getting doored back in May, so riding has been hell on my knees lately.

Orientation for graduate school was Wednesday. There were a few people in my class I am really looking forward to getting to know, and the classes should be quite challenging. I was flabbergasted to win a small scholarship. I know I deserved it. I've been through a hell of a lot and it is going to make me a hell of a witch. (The herb room at school is SO Hogwarts.)

I'm trying to hold on to some confidence, but I'm pretty overwhelmed. I know there are a lot of people who expect great things from me, and I am afraid of letting them down. Still, I know I am a dedicated and capable student. I know that the past few years of perceived failure were necessary to make me re-evaluate the way I related to myself and to other people. I know that I am still the same person I was 10 years ago, and also that I am completely different.

I'm not fucked-up. I'm not crazy. I might suffer from a really unpleasant set of chronic health problems, but I am still a kind and loving person who has much to offer. Other people don't pity me; they are proud of me.

I'm still terrified. Mostly afraid that it will be physically too much for me. Afraid that I won't be able to pay attention, afraid that my smarts have vanished. At this point I know it's just a matter of being patient and letting this new role take hold. I feel a lot like I did 11 years ago when I started at Rhodes. The world just got way bigger and it's a little scary.

I'm using my scholarship money to build a new fixed-gear and get it pimped out for winter. I got a new iPod and a microphone attachment so I can record my classes, since my the nerve grafts in my hand have now started to extend into my fingers and writing may become extremely unpleasant. I had a meeting with the assistant Dean to make sure that I'll be able to get up and stretch and walk around the building if my fibro makes sitting still in class for 4 hours too painful. I get acupuncture for 15 bucks, and I will be getting as much as I can, especially this first month of class.

In a lot of ways I feel like I've been given a chance to start over, but not all the way at the beginning. I get to go back to where things went wrong with total knowledge of what I need to do to win and start from there.

Level up.

Poem for Monday

Poem for Monday, August 25, 2008

Birth

by Louise Erdrich

When they were wild

When they were not yet human

When they could have been anything,

I was on the other side ready with milk to lure them,

And their father, too, each name a net in his hands.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

wathcing mad max is making me thirsty

I push myself too hard, testing my limits. I went on a bike camping trip this weekend with the Rat Patrol, decided to take a trailer so I could bring a chair to sit in. I'd started to get a cold the day before we left but went anyway, telling myself I needed the experience. you know, there's only two weeks left of my summer vacation, it'll be better than sitting at home on a Saturday night, you haven't been camping in 15 years, etc, etc.

I puked twice, once on the way (about 2.5 hours from the meet-up point), once after we got there and I blew up the sleeping mat. I tried really hard not to be a whiny, cranky bitch. I managed to stay up and be social for a few hours. There was some lovely veggie chili and some singing around the campfire, but being the only person not drinking, I was bored and sleepy pretty soon after dark. Went to bed at about 10, slept fitfully with earplugs in, constantly woken by the bugs and the festivity and the dampness creeping into my pillow. I was almost delirious with fatigue when I left in the morning, around 11. The trip home through the suburbs was mostly bike trails, quite beautiful, and I was totally miserable almost 3 hours later when I got home. Too much weight for me to pull, especially on a one-speed.

I'm physically incapable of taking naps, so I spent most of the day yesterday in a haze of dizzy misery until I finally fell asleep around 10.

Today I have a brutal cold and am restless, but too wobbly to really move. I'm on my third movie of the day.

I want to say the trip was worth it for the time spent with friends, but I was so self-conscious about being a wet blanket that it was hard to relax, not to mention I was too out of it to enjoy the beautiful scenery.

Having a fragile constitution seems to make loneliness more painful because I barely remember what it was like to have Big Wild Fun, so I grab any chance I can get to hang out with my friends, even if I have to duck out early. I try to be mindful of how lucky I am to have all my needs met, to be able to walk and ride a bike, to live unassisted.

I saw a urologist and had a cystoscopy done. it was the singular most unpleasant experience of my life, rather like losing my virginity. I made it through my staring at this poster.

there's nothing visibly wrong with my bladder, so at least I don't have interstitial cystitis, but the doctor (who talked to me for under 3 minutes) just gave me the name of yet another specialist to see. I'm opting not to. I will just hope the pain goes away. Resign myself to it. Never, ever, ever have sex again.

Days like this when I am totally run-down it's hard to keep learning from all this. I just want to be comforted and I don't see it happening any time soon. I just have to keep on making it through a day at a time. Until what, I don't know.

"brazilian" black bean soup

I have no idea if this recipe is authentically Brazilian, but it's a modification (inasmuch as I never really use recipes and am pulling this out of my ass) of one given to me by a friend in high school.


1 small yellow onion
1-2 big fat cloves of garlic
1-2 cups carrots, in bite sized chunks
2-3 tablespoons olive oil
1-2 bay leaves
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 tsp oregano
1 can black beans, undrained
1 small orange
1 cup water or vegetable broth
salt and pepper to taste


Cut the onion in half, then into finger-thick slices, then line those up sideways and cut them into dice-sized pieces.

Heat a small saucepan over a medium-high flame and add the oil. When the pan is hot, slide in the onions, carrots and the bay leaves.

Meanwhile, mince the garlic. You can do this with the tines of a fork, mashing it into a juicy paste.

When the onions start to turn translucent with a little bit of brown, add the garlic and cumin and stir vigorously for about a minute.

Pour in the water and the black beans. Stir and cover, reducing the heat the medium. It should simmer but not boil for about 8 minutes.

Squeeze the orange into a glass, removing the seeds but conserving some of the pulp and add to the pot. Leave the pot uncovered so some of the liquid will evaporate.

Cook until the carrots are tender but not mushy.

Add salt and pepper until it tastes right to you.


Top with chopped green onions or sour cream, if you feel like dairy.
Don't forget the Sriracha, or better yet, chipotle Tabasco.
Serve over brown rice, polenta, (yellow grits), quinoa, or with warm corn tortillas.

You can add red bell peppers, corn, lima beans, substitute sweet potatoes for carrots, throw in crumbled smoked tofu, whatever...

how strange it is to be anything at all

I start my internship at Yoga Now today, and I am looking forward to spending a few hours washing their baseboards and listening to new age music. with possible top 40 r&b dance breaks. After that, I am deep cleaning my dear friends' house, which is pretty dank due more to landlord negligence than too much slobbery on their part.

There is something so purifying to spend hours cleaning, especially when you use nothing but peroxide, Citra-solv and peppermint Dr Bronner's. Peppermint's cooling scent soothes my constant summer headache and loosens my asthma-tightened lungs

It's not as effortless for me as it was back in 2002, when I first started doing green cleaning back home. I have to be especially patient because my wrist and hand are still very stiff and can't be used to do more than supporting and guiding of light weights.

My life has a pattern to it now, even if it's just as simple as wake up, go sit by the water and meditate for 25 minutes (I can't say I actually meditate for more than a few seconds at a time, but I sit in easy peace for the whole time) and then see where the day takes me from there.

There are disappointments and obstacles in every day, but I seem to have recovered a steady footing. It's as easy as taking a deep breath and knowing it's not the end of the world.

The urologist put me on an anti-spasmodic, and between that, the Marinol, and the tryptophan, I'm able to actually look forward to things again.

My nurse practitioner at the queer clinic was kind enough to write me a Marinol prescription today. It's prohibitively expensive, but it leveled off the pain within an hour with minimal spaciness and I was finally able to stop crying. As far as cost, even with the fantastic discount I got through the clinic, it's comparable to the Weed Maintenance Program, without the excruciating claustrophobia and mind-on-a-hamster-wheel thinking, but I am hopeful I can find a website that sells it cheaper. it's certainly a better option than going back on Lyrica or Cymbalta. so far as I can tell the only side effect is increased appetite. I dropped down to 117 last week, what I weighed in high school, because I've had such problems with nausea and anxiety about eating, so I'm looking forward to being a little less gaunt.

I went to the temple to do work practice. Sat for a while and was delighted to be greeted mid-sit by the nun's cat, who has snuck out of living quarters. The idea of being able to bring Tachi with me if I one day choose to live in a temple or monastery setting hadn't occurred to me and now I find myself already longing to take up residence there when my lease is up. I somehow doubt my parents would approve, so I'd have to work out a way to pay for my rent, but it's a lovely daydream to have.

Even after just two days of adhering to a regular practice I feel so much more at peace. it was
such a pleasant experience to chant the Heart Sutra (as unfamiliar as it is in Korean) and then to work in the garden for an hour. I learned so much from just weeding.

it's good to have hope again, to have a place to take refuge.

I spent several hours yesterday at the Zen Temple yesterday. The early service was two 25 minute sittings separated by a brief chanting of the three refuges in Korean, followed by a Dharma talk.

I was disconcerted by my complete inability to stop crying. I have been really emotionally worn out these past 24 hours, after overdoing it physically Friday and Saturday. After the service we had tea downstairs. One of the members struck up a conversation with me as we washed out our tecups, and when he noticed my distress he told me I could go sit back upstairs in the temple. I sat up there and sobbed for probably half an hour. Sometimes there is nothing else to do but sit and keep my pain company. I try not to judge it or let it overwhelm me. I sat and looked at the Buddha statue and let the pain flow through me.

I went back later in the day for the afternoon service, which is just one sitting meditation followed by the three refuges, chanting of Ma-um, and a question and answer session.

It has become very clear to be that the only way to take arms against this sea of troubles is by sitting still and doing nothing at all. My mind is over-run by monkeys and my body is falling apart. I can't go on like this.

Poem for Monday, July 28, 2008

The nightingale sings



by Eqrem Basha



Who is that bird singing on a branch alone
And where is its flock
Which is the plaintive song
And which is the season


That bird has a voice adept
At singing on a solitary branch
No friends no family
It has come to earth on its own
With a flute in its beak and anguish
Which is neither a wound
Nor a song


What is that mourning so near which belongs to us
Sing to us nightingale sing










Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

mantra

I've been singing this song to myself a lot lately.

It's taking a lot of energy and even more faith, but I am finally back in the center of my path, back to where can believe it.

I let things slip back, I neglected my heart, I forgot to gather wood for my campfire and the wolves came and surrounded me.

I am done letting the sickness win.

After some serious bike riding, and a lot of long talks with myself, my shrink, and my friends, and a couple of days of tryptophan supplements, I can finally see the path again. The shadows are lifting.

Yes, there is pain. There is weariness, loneliness, sometimes even deep sadness. But there is also joy, gratitude, and so much love. All these will arise, and all these will be swept away.


Best Critical Mass ever. Thank you, universe. I am being sent such blessings.


(this video sucks, but it's the only one I could find.)

For over half my life I've been battling serious depression. When I'm depressed my mind tends to fixate on things and I worry at them until I feel raw inside. Yesterday I burned the roof of my mouth on my lunch (Wild Trout roasted with Summer Squash and Carrots in garlic and ginger over brown jasmine rice) and today it's been impossible to stop probing the sore place between two of my teeth with my tongue.

My heart is the same way. I want more than I can have, and always from the wrong person. It's very difficult for me to be happy unless I am busy all the time. I haven't really had a job for about 10 months and my mind is starting to consume itself. I spend way too much time fretting about being alone, about possibilities that never existed and never will exist, about being abandoned by people I need and love right now when I need them most.

I have to constantly stop and talk myself down. I burst into tears several times a day. I'm in so much pain from the lack of exercise and the possible interstitial cystitis that I am really struggling to keep my head above water. My pain is so urgent, so present, and I have little to distract me from it. I agonize about what people think of me because of how I am handling this.

Rationally I know that when school starts in a month my life will change drastically. I had been planning to start volunteering at the queer health clinic's thrift store, but it's become very apparent (especially after the grueling experience I just had this weekend at Pitchfork) to me that I'm not able to spend more than 5 or 10 minutes on my feet without a severe increase in discomfort.

I'm trying hard to find people to spend time with. When I can't do that I read at the lake until the horseflies drive me off. I try to remember to breathe.

I've lost my center. I'm alone and in pain so much of the time and my body stays in panic mode until I wear myself out.

God I miss riding a bike.

dog bless tudou

Night. Kate and Angel are sitting side by side outside in the garden court of the Hyperion.
Kate: "I feel like such an idiot."
Angel: "A lot of that going around."
Kate: "I just couldn't... - My whole life has been about being a cop. If I'm not part of the force it's like nothing I do means anything."
Angel, still looking pretty beat up: "It doesn't."
Kate: "Doesn't what?"
Angel: "Mean anything. In the greater scheme or the big picture, nothing we do matters. There's no grand plan, no big win."
Kate: "You seem kind of chipper about that."
Angel: "Well, I guess I kinda - worked it out. If there is no great glorious end to all this, if - nothing we do matters, - then all that matters is what we do. 'cause that's all there is. What we do, now, today. - I fought for so long. For redemption, for a reward - finally just to beat the other guy, but... I never got it."
Kate: "And now you do?"
Angel: "Not all of it. All I wanna do is help. I wanna help because - I don't think people should suffer, as they do. Because, if there is no bigger meaning, then the smallest act of kindness - is the greatest thing in the world."
Kate: "Yikes. It sounds like you had an epiphany."
Angel: "I keep saying that. But nobody's listening."
Kate: "Well, I'm pretty much convinced, since I'm alive to be convinced."
Angel: "You know you don't have to be a cop to be..."
Kate: "I'm okay. - Anyway, I'm not headed towards another pillathon. - I'm very grateful. - I never thought you'd come for me, but... I got cut a huge break and I believe... - I don't know what I believe, but I - have - faith. - I think maybe we're not alone in this."
Angel: "Why?"
Kate: "Because I never invited you in."

Poem for Monday, July 14, 2008

So Many Things

by Guy Goffette

All winter you neglected

the strong red umbrella

let its ribs rust in the grass and mud

let the north wind crush the birdhouse

without uttering a word, you gave up

on the rose beds, the apple

that rounded off the earth.

By indigence or distraction you left,

let so many things die off

the only place to set your gaze

is on the draft slicing through your house

and you’re surprised, still, surprised when

cold seizes you from summer’s very arms

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

it's been a rough couple of weeks since I had my hand repaired, but I just have to make it until September. just 6 more weeks.

I've been in the grips of a panic attack or surrounded by wolves or consumed by dread or whatever you want to call it for about a week straight. boredom and claustrophobia and pain and insomnia. incessant thoughts about self-injuring. trouble breathing. I can't stop crying.

I make myself leave whenever I can. usually I go to the lake. I read, I cry, I go home and pace and go back out. I am on the verge of explosion.

at least I have the internets again.

Poem for Monday, June 23, 2008

The Will to Divest

by Kay Ryan

Action creates

a taste

for itself.

Meaning: once

you’ve swept

the shelves

of spoons

and plates

you kept

for guests,

it gets harder

not to also

simplify the larder,

not to dismiss

rooms, not to

divest yourself

of all the chairs

but one, not

to test what

singleness can bear,

once you’ve begun.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

Poem for Monday, June 9, 2008

Summertime

by George Gershwin and Dubose Heyward

Summertime an’ the livin’ is easy,

Fish are jumpin’ an the cotton is high.

Oh, yo daddy’s rich, an yo mama’s good-lookin’,

So hush, little lady, don’ you cry.

One of these mornin’s you goin’ to rise up singin’,

Then you’ll spread yo wings an’ you’ll take the sky.

But till that mornin’ there’s a-nothin’ can harm you

With Daddy an’ Mammy standin’ by.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

Poem for Monday, June 2, 2008

The Sleepless Grape

by Li-Young Lee

Like any ready fruit, I woke

falling toward beginning and

welcome, all of night

the only safe place.

Spoken for, I knew

a near hand would meet me

everywhere I heard my name

and the stillness ripening

around it. I found my inborn minutes

decreed, my death appointed

and appointing. And singing

gathers the earth

about my rest,

making of my heart a way home

the stars hold open.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

Poem for Monday on Tuesday, May 27th, 2008

Carry

by Billy Collins



I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.


Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.


They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.







Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

and sometimes, it lets me breathe

and then there are glorious nights, full of trees and wind and birds and the sound of your breathing and tires whirring on dry pavement.

every moment is an epiphany. over and over the universe is throwing object lessons at me and i try to be grateful and humble and brave. try and fail, mostly. still, i learn as much as i can hold.

every now and then, though, it does let me catch my breath. nights with easy words and laughter and none of the worrying and projecting. even the pain backs off a little. things just happen and i can just sit back and watch myself breathe my way through it.

the lake is vast and i lay next to it feeling my heart thumping almost out of my chest, the city glow scorching the clouds, the water dark and black and heavingly alive. mars was bright. so was my face. i felt like my smile was projecting batsignals onto the clouds. huge scudding shadows the shape of my heart.

i have to believe it keeps getting better.

big pharma is in your face, all the time.

drive slow

My life has slowed to a crawl. I sign the lease on a new apartment tomorrow, closer to the water, to an independent natural food store,, a yoga studio, and to friends. I scan craigslist for jobs I could be physically capable of performing, I read, I bike out to acupuncture once a week, to therapy, and to watch Lost with my best friend here. I drink tea, I try to remember to stretch and shower every day, and I wait for things to get better.

I am rereading Thich Nhat Hanh's biography of the Buddha,Old Path, White Clouds. It's been almost a decade since Zach, may he find peace, first pressed it on me. I can't believe how long ago it seems. I remember being blown away and being fairly gung-ho about Buddhism for several years, although I balked at the precepts prohibiting intoxicants and casual sex. I've been very very lazy in my practice for far too long now, and the suffering has definitely caught up with me.

It has become quite clear to me which path I must follow now, and in many ways, it has been made easier. My social life is no longer based around intoxicants, and I'm no longer interested in sex as a way of escaping/punishing my body. I'm quite lucky, I guess, to have had these desires stripped away, even if it was not my choice.

I am trying to view my pain as a tool to help me prune my life. I can't imagine that plants enjoy being pruned, but when they grow straight and tall, how joyful they are.

Poem for Monday, May 12, 2008

Names







by Lyn Lifshin







Lately I become

whatever you call

me, the way some

Indians do. First

I couldn’t say

your because

it belonged to

someone who’d

turned me into

who I wasn’t.

When you called

me love near the

rag shop on Caroline,

I tried to remember

the spell Iroquois

put on names to

make them stay.














Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

I am tired. I am true of heart! You are tired. You are true of heart!

the pain is my constant companion. sometimes it withdraws a little and I am able to go socialize with the neurotypicals, but for every hour spent in the garage at the lyndale rats' messing with bikes, there are seven hours spent in bed listening to the pain gnaw away at my body, tiny fire ants crazing my bones to dust. worrying about the future and waiting for sleep, and oblivion.

I have reached the point where I no longer remember what it was like before the pain.

I try to tell myself that there is something I must learn from all this, that I am coal being crushed to diamond. Were I to believe in Powers that Be I would be praying for grace and guidance and for whatever wisdom there is to be gleaned from the unrelenting boredom and loneliness to manifest itself in my heart. this is an exercise in trust, and in patience, and in acceptance.

I want to believe that I am not missing out on anything living in the slow lane, hobbling along with my heavy heavy load, I want to believe that I am shedding karma and learning to be true of heart. I want to believe that my suffering will inspire love and compassion in those around me. I want to believe that one day I will be self-sufficient again, that I will be rewarded for these long dark teatimes of the soul, that there is in fact an end to pain.

I can no longer ask for mercy. it has clearly been denied. for now, at least. all I can ask is for patience, and faith. and hope.

may all beings be at peace and free from suffering. and may I one day be one of them.

reading back through old livejournals from 2003, I feel a sort of tender condescension toward my younger self. I cared so much more about what people thought of me, and I hadn't really formed a concept of a future in which I would be alone and ok with it. I was so raw and ripped open still from ending an engagement that I just wanted to have that hole in my chest filled with sand. or removed entirely.

years later, I have grown used to perpetual brokenheartedness. I try to channel my love and pain into a feeling of compassion toward all I encounter, rather than try to pin it on one person as if their wanting me back could be the one thing finally capable of healing me.

my cat sits in the window looking down at the street, flicking his tail at the flies. I wish I could clear my mind enough to live on his level, free from jealousy or hurt or unrequited romantic passion. He seems to spend most of his time in silent contemplation. I suppose I must be earning good karma by supporting him while he lives in comfortable happiness.

I try to tell myself that surely there is something good and bright and shiny in my future but it seems so murky right now.

evertyhing was beautiful, and nothing hurt

my fellow Tennessean, Melissa, has finally put her portfolio up.

scenes of the lovely desolation that is time passed. or time past.



my own life seems to have reached a crisis of hecticity. hecticness. hectickery. hectitude.

i feel like i am in a log rolling contest in crocodile infested waters.
with whiplash.

Poem for Monday, May 5, 2008

For the Dead







by Adrienne Rich







I dreamed I called you on the telephone

to say: Be kinder to yourself

but you were sick and would not answer



The waste of my love goes this way

trying to save you from yourself



I have always wondered about the leftover

energy, water rushing down a hill

long after the rains have stopped



or the fire you want to go to bed from

but cannot leave, burning-down but not burnt-down

the red coals more extreme, more curious

in their flashing and dying

than you wish they were

sitting there long after midnight














Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

xkcd always cheers me up

jalouse

Now that I've made it through the winter and actually have a small posse of friends, accepting my body's limitations takes up more and more of my emotional CPU. Any exertion tends to have me limping within hours and I tend to lose mobility after sundown. I can always ride my bike, but other than than I'm pretty lame. literally.

I miss my body. I look back at past summers and marvel at how much I took for granted. I'd started to have a lot of pain then, but I wasn't nearly as crippled as I am now. I miss being able to stay up late, I miss being able to drink without having my bones transmuted to hot lead the next day, I miss dancing. especially I miss dancing.

it's hard to dance with mermaid feet.

The other thing that preoccupies me lately is dealing with memory loss. yesterday I started reading the sequel to a book I had read a few years ago, and skimming through the synopsis at the beginning I was appalled by how little I remembered. this makes me doubt my ability to do well in grad school. there will be so much to memorize. I used to take so many supplements to slow my brain's deterioration, and they seemed to help, but living on less than 800 a month kind of rules that out.

So I muddle on, taking charity when it's offered, trying to be a good person and fight this bitterness in my heart. but there's a deep and bone-chilling fear that is starting to seep in to everything I do, or think, or dream. I am not going to get better. and realistically, every year I am going to get a little bit worse.

Poem for Monday, April 28th, 2008

Poem in the Night Month

by Beth Ann Fennelly

Now that they've X-rayed

the mummified female crocodile

in the Egypt room in the British Museum,

they've found a baby crocodile, mummified,

inserted far back in her throat.

Just so, little one,

we drift toward the next world.

Our days are numbered.

Strangers will catch your head,

will thumb your eyes back to zero,

will say Welcome to the world, not

the afterworld.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

caught up with friends on the way downtown, Adrian from Armitage Bikes, Alex from West Town, a Scalawag on a sweet chopper, and the most awesome green tallbike. the variety is delightful. just as many beatup old schwinns as pistas. seemed like at least half onespeeds now, though. flat city. who needs derailleurs.



rode most of the way with Tracy. it started to pour as we turned off Diversey onto Logan,
and so we rested a while under the right side of the Kennedy/Western/Logan overpass. hundreds of us. cheering and whistling at motorists who slowed to gawk.



we took over western for about a quarter of a mile in the lovely pelting rain, and i rode hard to catch up with tall bike tyler, hooting at cars in my totally seethru tshirt. hilariousness. we screamed our praises to thor.

at the very end, there was a small party with a keg and a mess of falafel and we all stood around and shivered for a while.

on the way west on bloomington there is a charming mural of picasso's "guernica."



happy friday. (cos sometimes it is.)

Poem for Monday, April 21, 2008

Indiana Avenue, 1949

by Etheridge Knight

Neons flash red and green.

April rains on still street, Man

Nods, Red lights blink, blink.

Mirror of keen blades

Slender as guitar strings; Wes

Montgomery jazz.

Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

oh, the pathos

unrecognizable to myself

daddy, you bastard

my bff and I are convinced that we are too strong (intense, intelligent, experienced, intimidating, powerful) and that is why our romantic interests never seem to be requited.

there are no superheroines with happy endings, not really. mortal men can't handle them and superheros have inferiority complexes.

the village healer always ended up burnt or drowned.

I know I have years of sickness left to deal with before I can really even begin to believe there's someone. for as long as I can remember, I've only seemed to aim my heart at the unattainable. not that I have any choice in the matter, not consciously. I've been in therapy long enough to have figured out why I act this way.

getting sent off to second chance when I was a kid fucked me up so much more than I can put into words. there was a complete- and utterness to that rejection that left me permanently ducked and covered, so terrified of not just doing something wrong, but being something wrong. no matter how much someone loves me, I can't just be still and bask in it. I have to pick at it, worry about it til I make myself sick or insane.


there's nothing like being made to tell your mom you lost your virginity because you were a drug addict. unless it's actually losing it when you are 13 cos you are so bitter and angry at love that you don't ever, ever want to believe in it, to let it have power over you. expect maybe being forced to lie about being a drug addict, being made to believe that I was weak, worthless, selfish, mentally ill, being locked up, forcibly drugged, made to pretend I loved Jesus, sing foolish songs and flap my arms, being told to deal with my anger by ripping up phone books because my anger was invalid and not worth responding to, being abandoned, having my parents refuse to believe me, having the people who made me take the word of someone who wanted their 25000 dollars over mine. not allowed to speak for months.

diary read and thrown away, clothes, books, toys, music all thrown away and replaced with generic, safe normalcy.

hours, days spent trying to figure out a way to poison or injure myself sufficiently to be able to go to the hospital and somehow talk my way out of going back. running away, getting taken to juvenile court after spending the night under an overpass. being dragged back humiliated the next day, parents actually believing I wanted to use drugs that badly, instead of that their magic program was so unbearable I'd rather be a ward of the state than go back.

when i read kafka's trial for the first time I shook and rattled like a cicada shell in a stiff breeze. josef k had nothing on me.

fourteen months in all, and fourteen years later not a week goes by without a nightmare of being back there as an adult.

and it still taints everything I do, everything I feel.

and I don't know what else to do besides stay busy between therapy sessions.

emo

wish i could sleep in your arms

Poem for Monday, April 14, 2008

Birds


by Tom Clark


Sky full of blue nothing toward which the Magi
Move, like dream people who are Walt Fraziers of the air…
Sometimes the moves they make amaze them
For they will never happen again, until the end of time; but there they are.


So shall I be like them? I don’t think so…and yet to float
Above the rolling H²O
On wings that express the mechanics of heaven
Like a beautiful golden monkey wrench
Expresses mechanics of earth…t’would be bueno.










Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

Poem for Monday, April 7, 2008

Planting a Mailbox

by John Updike



Prepare the ground when maple buds have burst
And when the daytime moon is sliced so thin
His fibers drink blue sky with litmus thirst.
This moment come, begin.


The site should be within an easy walk,
Beside a road, in stony earth. Your strength
Dictates how deep you delve. The seedling’s stalk
Should show three feet of length.


Don’t harrow, weed or water; just apply
A little gravel. Sun and motor fumes
Perform the miracle: in late July,
A branch post office blooms.







Burke's Book Store
936 South Cooper
Memphis, TN 38104
(901) 278-7484
www.burkesbooks.com

heh

Memphis Players Have Long, Complicated Explanation Of How They Are This Year's 'Rumpelstiltzkin' Story

SAN ANTONIO—Although no Cinderella teams made it to this year's Final Four, the Memphis Tigers held an extended press conference Wednesday to explain to the press and public that they are in fact the "Rumpelstiltzkin" of this year's NCAA...

mountaintop

want

also why i love google

cos i really want to go live in a biodome on mars

why i love google

gmail custom time

svaha

boing boing posted a link to this tremendously brave photography project by German artist Walter Schels today. he and his partner took before and after shots of terminal cancer patients at a hospice.



watching the breath leave my grandmother's body was unlike anything I have ever experienced. there is nothing that could have prepared me for it. our isolated nuclear family structure really cheats us of this experience. I think life really lacks any meaning unless we have a really clear concept of what death is like.

maybe I should look into becoming a hospice volunteer.