n. infantile pattern of suckle-swallow movement in which the tongue is placed between incisor teeth or between alveolar ridges during initial stage of swallowing (if persistent can lead to various dental abnormalities) v. [content removed due to Bush campaign to clean up the internet] n. act of nyah-nyah v. pursuing with relentless abandon the need to masticate and thrust the world into every bodily incarnation in order to transform it, via the act of salivation, into nutritive agency

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Days 14 and 15

That was one kind of not good, a kind Monnie was familiar with—performance, the dance of a man entertaining for one.

Later, the shame. The burning in his limbs and face, the tingling in his hands as he inhaled the last of the smoldering autumn fires and realized what he was doing, leaving Naomi behind.


Monday, September 27, 2010

day 13

“Fold your blanket in half, over here, by the door where nobody can see you if they look in,” he said. “It’s a tricky thing, ‘cause you don’t want to be within reaching distance, but you don’t want to be so far away that you’re visible. Note that, kid: the folks visible are the folk quickly dead.”

I was very disappointed in myself today to actually think that Palin's daughter seemed graceful on "Dance with the Starz," and that her younger sister seemed adorable cheering, screeching, and whistling in the hoards. Why do they have to be charming, as well as evil, I ask you? It still pisses me off no end that the daughter of a woman who ran for governor, quit midway to take a million lucrative pundit jobs that will make her a multi-millionaire for simply being clever and extremely cruel, prejudiced, racist, militaristic, simplistic, elitist and frothy... is on TV anywhere, for any (and absolutely no) reason. But that said, it pisses me off even more that they seemed human. Grrrrr.


Sunday, September 26, 2010

Day 12

Today I am hating everything I've written so far. Sigh. And I am depressed because I think I lost all my spring teaching documents when my computer crashed. I thought I had it backed up, but I'm not finding them. That means a lot of pointless rewriting.
Such a strange fashion, perhaps one day it will be followed by the absense of pants altogether in favor of boxers attached to gaiters like the thick leather ones my father wore to protect himself from snags and vines that threatened the men out in the field.


Saturday, September 25, 2010

Days 10 and 11

It’s the kind of gift that predisposes you to eventually refuse people entrance, simply because so many of them later have inclination to flee.

One might look in the memento drawers, or the photographs fastened next to the beds with thin metal pins that leave only the smallest punctures in those flat memories the mourning might later come to collect.


Thursday, September 23, 2010

Day 9

“What is the purpose of love?” I asked her later, and again, never receiving an answer, although I filled my time with loose ends and biting retorts: propagation of the species, a false sense of security, the illusion that there’s someone to lean on when times get hard, or perhaps just something to do to fill the time and keep one’s hands busy and one’s mind distracted. I knew, of course, that the answer was happiness. But knowing didn’t stop me from denigrating this answer in the name of every other hope I had cherished and since lost.
And from one of my true loves and Herald's future kitten's namesake:


Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Day 8

This is what you think about the most when everybody is breathing around you, the scritch-scratch of the nurse’s pen in her anatomy workbook is just barely audible if you crane your neck a little and focus on it, focus past all the breaths, soft ones and noisy that you checked out on your last foray when you thought that the best possible way to deal with this insomnia is go around and watch other people dream in the rooms where the lights are still on, albeit softly, and the small shriveled faces, with their bulbous noses and long lobes, are opened and half-ajar with drool hanging off of their tongues like string from a tattered quilt—faces re-living other lives, innocently, one might think.


Tuesday, September 21, 2010

rusty friggin faucet, day 7

“Lord,” she says, “ you don’t look like someone who would date my father.”

He thinks about it, if thinking about it means switching his iPod playlist.


Monday, September 20, 2010

Day 6

It shouldn't count, but considering the considerable and all-day spurt of energy and creativity it took for me to finalize it all (mostly), I am going to CHEAT! From my syllabus:
A) Quote that I stole from Blindness, and am placing at the top of my 102 syllabus as its guiding epigraph: "If you can see, look. If you can look, observe."

B) A sentence from my syllabus: Overall, we will flit back and forth in our discussions between “traditional academic writing” and “public writing” in order to understand what they share in common, and where they might diverge as one hits the airwaves, the internet, and the local grocery store, and the other gets turned in.


Sunday, September 19, 2010

Orcas Island Trip and Birthday Party

Orcas Island TripHow did today slip away so damn fast?

Oh, yeah. That's what happens when I crash at S's place and then have to get breakfast, get home, get the house and self cleaned, play with the dog, and do my page a day. Grrrrr.

But the good side is that I had a very nice co-birthday party last night with JT. S and JT's girlfriend put it together for us, which was even nicer, since I didn't have to do anything other than show up with some pesto spaghetti-squash and a fresh salad from my garden. The food was splendid... cakes and goodies (maple bars with bacon on it!! yuck. chocolate dip and strawberries! um, yes.), plus all kinds of mostly vegetarian affairs. I was very impressed. I was also impressed by how many people came: two people from my community college who haven't visited me before, my friend Ehben who has been AWOL for a bunch of months, N, the regular crew that's developed (S's crew), JT's friends, and a couple of folks who I'm getting the awesome feeling are going to be friends. My studio-mate JW made me a rainbow "gay" cake that apparently has mysterious qualities up for interpretation.

I had a very nice time with N for it being such a short period of time to see her, and her present made me want to cry. For starters, she gave me a beautiful artist's book, one that I've even heard of and lusted after. But she also gave me a small empty canvas, so 'we can begin again' (and I need to find a way to tell her that we don't need to, that as soon as I saw her, everything was okay again, feels fine). And last, the humorous present: apparently we both picked up a set of prayer flags for each other; I got her a set on Orcas, and she got me a set in Seattle. And we haven't even ever talked about prayer flags either. Loved it.

S made the comment upon watching us together (she hasn't really seen us interact for more than a few minutes before) that it's interesting watching me 'dote' on someone. And I asked, surprised, I dote on N? And she said yes. I thought about it for a bit, and guess she's probably right. It's an interesting word, dote. I wondered a bit if S was jealous, but I don't think she was... or at least I hope not. She has her children and nephews and nieces and tons of siblings to dote on. I think I must only dote on N and my mom, and sometimes my sister and grandparents. I dote on JS a bit sometimes too. I totally would dote unabashedly on my god-daughter (and her mother) were they not so damn far away. It's hard to dote from a distance although I do my best. I think I like doting when it happens, and I think it's a perfect descriptor for how I feel about N. I used to wonder years ago if I was "in love" with N because I like her so much (a question my sister pestered me ruthlessly into considering), but decided it's more like a big sister feeling, only A doesn't let me dote on her too much, but N does. Heh. Anyhow, it was interesting to think about, and felt good to be able to say that yes, maybe I do still dote on some few others in this world.

Not to say that I don't adore many of the people I don't dote on. I just don't dote often, I guess. Dote. Dote. Dote.

Orcas Island TripOkay, moving on because I have to go home soon and get up super-early and be massively psychotically productive all day tomorrow.

I got back from visiting Orcas Island with S a couple of days ago. It was really an incredible trip although I wouldn't say that it was entirely relaxing. I think maybe I have a hard time relaxing when I'm not by myself. So, instead of relaxing, we stayed busy and went on walks, visited the town, drove the roads and daydreamed about living on an island (a daydream that both S and I apparently share), and took Herald to the beach, and watched the dears, and sat in the hot tubs, and hung out with the kid who works there and gives us (S) a discount because he likes us (S) so much. He actually told us that next time we might be able to come for free if we give him a heads up.

I have to say that S and I got into some arguments and I've been too critical lately and don't quite know how to get out of that mode. Need to maybe get working again so some of my energy is directed rather than focused so much at myself and those close to me. Well, that problem will be solved on Tuesday. Classes begin... and am I prepared? Mentally, check. Realistically, no... dreadfully behind on figuring out my readings, scanning them in, and making PDFs. Thus tomorrow.

But, back to Orcas. S and argued about (discussed?) commitment, use of the term 'dude' for women, religion in America as it pertains to women's historical roles and place in society, methods of arguing (discussing?), holding foodbags on one's lap when one doesn't want to, bossing others around, criticizing, the ability to communicate when it comes to complex things like commitment and relationship stuff, who tells Herald what to do and how, and so forth. It was a little exhausting, for us both I think. S is better at bouncing back from that kind of stuff than I am though, and I'm still sorting it out in my head a bit. I wish I didn't get so defensive... it's funny, but I got into a disagreement with N too a couple weeks ago about the term 'commitment' and what it entails.

I don't know why, but I don't want it right now. Not sure I ever will. I want to just live in today, establish boundaries that work as best they can, be open to what happens tomorrow, and treat each other kindly... in all of my relationships, friends or lover. If you're not having kids or investing money together, why would you want anything else? Anyhow, lots to think about, I guess.

In the meantime, everything is pretty beautiful, and I'm grateful for all the pleasure and happiness I've felt over the past month... and even grateful for the struggle. I feel wiggly spoiled re: the beautiful party S threw, the bent-glass lantern she gave me, and the time she took with me, no phones turned on, no computers, and shared music and books. Not many people are that lucky.

S on bridge

Reflection Pictures / Cascade Lake

S took this picture and I like it lots

More of the Beast

Day 5

He might quietly tell me what he's reading, and I might note back that I never read fiction, only nonfiction: don't want to waste my time reading made-up stories when there are so many real ones out there to learn from. He might smile and shake his head, and I will wait for him to explain to me or argue, but he never does, only smiles like that and continues to read his books of poetry and novels.


Saturday, September 18, 2010

Day 4

A curious thing was happening there... I got behind, and then told myself that I would make up for it the next day, but then the next day I didn't feel like writing two pages, perhaps barely one, so I would allow myself to be distracted again, then went on a vacation and got really distracted, and then realized suddenly that I was very far behind, and started to feel a little ill at the profound level of catching up I had to do, and so began procrastinating on catching up, which lead to the soul-sucking concurrence of getting further behind, feeling guilty, and not doing any writing. Until today when I realized that as I am the administrator and sole participant of the WriteAThon2, perhaps I might instead just write Day 4's contents as if I meant to take a brief break in order to get my head adjusted directly into writing position.

So I am hereby waving my hands in front of your face mesmerizingly and saying no time has elapsed, no time has elapsed, no time...

On a related note, my dog has begun to howl outside. What an incredible singing voice he has, and he's been strutting it more and more frequently lately. He really does cherish his voice, I must say. Here's a sentence from Day 4:
But I was nevertheless patiently curious and waiting to see what would happen within Joseph as he stood there in his gray coat and pants, holding a gray hardbound book and looking at an old pale woman decorated primly in yellow and clutching one hand in the other as she became again the object of a man’s attention, gazed upon as she lay on her bed in a crippled parody of seduction.
Oh, and here's a link to my friend JS's new blog. She rocks. So does her new husband. You should keep your eye on her blog for awesome rockingness.


Thursday, September 09, 2010

Day 3

Come here, so we can hate you for coming here. Work cheaply, so we can resent you for working cheaply. Be new, so we can resent you for being newer than us.


Wednesday, September 08, 2010

Day 2

“Do you mind if I sit here by the door,” he asked me finally, and when I said I didn’t, he sat down in the chair and pulled his thick book out of an invisible pocket and carefully opened to a page I would gauge to be one-fifth within.


Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Day 1

Like a Coca-Cola bottle, she once told me, not even blushing, as she handed me my hose and helped to unfurl them over the strange white squid that have become my legs.


don't listen to the static

wise dogWhat an interesting weekend.
And what an intense day.

Today, I finally finished the 6-Feet Under series i.e. I spent the whole day crying. Actually, after the third-to-last episode, I had cried so much that I had to rope my mom into watching a children's movie with me (Despicable Me, which was okay but nothing much although I spilled Diet Coke all over the cashier and register). Then I went home and watched the last two episodes and continued to weep my wretched heart out.

So.Incredible. And very wretched-heart wrenching.

Friday, I hung out with N when she finally got here... after her long bus ride and after me extreme-cleaning, gardening, and walking Herald. For the artwalk, I had some work printed and a little bit turned out good (the close-ups) but mostly I realized that Bville sports a lot of people who run by the Jinx space looking for wine before the awesome music show at 11. Plus my stuff feels silly even though I sold a little bit of it (to friends). Ah well. Sometimes I wonder anyways if my brains are within a rapidly decreasing substrate of my conscious...

Regardless, hanging out with N was good. She is herself, and now I feel crappy and horrible for forsaking her towards the end. I think some part of me had just registered her as being Gone Gone Gone, like life. Like I had spent too much time panicking, then too much time trying to connect with help, then too much time grieving too soon. But she was herself, present and here in WA. We went to the hot tub after the evening was spent and she told me, among other discussion points, that she just doesn't trust anyone anymore. And my thought was... like herself. And everyone else. I don't mean it as a judgment but when you can't trust yourself, who is there left to trust? My instinct was to say... not even me? But I didn't say it because of course. I was glad that I didn't act in self-defense: after everything I did... after everything I felt... after everything I wrote... after x y and z. I guess I understand, and can live with her not trusting anyone. But I hope she knows what I never before did, that love strange creature unheard wistful bird is still there, despite some mutual distrust. She can distrust me, with me still being true as a friend. I guess I'm used to it now.

And true as a person who is not just N's friend. I also visited with cc, who is rather preggars and super-happy. Made me happy to see that. And saw S, which was nice but maybe alot all at once. I got into a 'squabble' with S over the past, which I wish (both of us apparently) wasn't so present in my life. Sometimes I feel like my brain is floating with names of ex-girlfriends and ex-friends and ex-events and ex-hopes and ex-poorme's and ex-dreams and ex-daydreams. And I don't know how to flush the brainpan. But I'd like to believe it possible. New thoughts. Newness. Not listening to the static, as the best show ever would tell me in between me crying my face off and wondering about my story and my friends and loves and deaths and etc.

Tomorrow, I'm going to start a new Write-A-Thon. Me alone unless. I'm going to write a page a day for the next 101 days, and I'll post a sentence from the page each day. If I'm away from the Internet, then I'll post when I get back, but a page a day it is. Grannie, E, and A... you'll hold me to it. Give me grief if I don't at least do this. And, A, I doubt you'll ever like anything I ever write, but still, I'm writing it with you as my whip-cracker.

I've got other to-do's too... class planning, trip going with S who makes me gnash teeth sometimes but hopefully it's a new page, N re-befriending, eventually counseling whatever that means or allows for, and crossing my fingers over politics, tea-parties, Afghanistan, California, the borders, and so forth.

P.S. Herald: old soul (above) or young soul (description from a friend who visited)? Both seem good.


Thursday, September 02, 2010

ethics, shmethics

Kenyon artworkI started wondering again if it's unethical for me to post about N (or others, in general).

At first I just posted about what was happening, then I worried about it... as N's situation started to become more of a nightmare. So I took some posts down. Then I started feeling irritated that I'd censored myself, even though it's a public space and not everything in life needs to be public. But I wondered if I deleted posts because of the (wrongful) stigma of psychological disorder that triggered my "oh you can't say that" response. I mean, shouldn't more people instead of less talk about these issues and what it's like to go through for friends and others? How is it any different than, say, cancer or broken bones?

But now I'm fretting about gossips getting back to N. She knows of my blog but has never been interested in reading it, so I just felt like whatever. But what if she randomly checks it? I don't think any of our mutual friends/frienemies read this, but what if one did... and told her I've been writing about my experience of her experience? Would I feel bad? Would it fuck up the friendship more than it already is? Would she feel bad? Is it unethical, or just a blog (with very few readers) so get over it?

Anyhow, here's some of my current work. I'm having printing woes though.