Monday, December 21, 2015


So, I got to see Barbara and Francis on Friday. It was really, really nice. It feels so good to just be able to talk and not feel judged. I can be honest and I'm not going to meet horrified, shocked eyes.

Francis leveled with me about how I was actually unnecessarily mean to that language table person I told off. It is better, or at least not cruel, to tell people "nope," rather than "not only no, but fuck no, and I hope you choke on a bag of dicks." But I think Francis was proud that I could connect that my reaction was tied to how I felt abused by the native community and how being asked to provide language teaching made my brain jump into survival mode. I snapped because part of me felt I was in danger.

It makes me feel heartbroken.

Like I'm broken, and I thought I was more whole. It's painful. I really am still scared. My anger is still defending me. I do hate myself, blame myself for the bad things people did to me as an adult.

Francis said I need to keep telling my story. It did help to talk with them. To have my feelings acknowledged, and have Francis tell me he recognized the feelings and thoughts. I dunno how to tell the story though, to others. It's's such an unhappy, secret story. It's long, and convoluted, and sick. I don't want it to be a part of me, much less a part I tell about. It's a story people don't want to hear. How do you tell a story like that?

Sunday, December 13, 2015

can't leave the apartment

Yesterday I went to Wintervale. Made cookies. Told stories. Shared Jokes. Listened. Ate food. Like a normal girl.

Yesterday, or this morning, I had another dream. This one was of my brother. You know, he gave me the best gifts. He knew me. Sometimes, I noticed how he watched my face. It really must have done a lot for him, to see me light up with delight. Wicked. Halo 3 the show Show. Monterey Bay Aquarium. Beetles cover band in a British pub. San Diego Zoo. WoW party with JP and Kevin. LotR. Universal Studios. Disney Land. Gran Torino. True Romance. Kill Bill. Music. Stand up. California. The internet. He really must have cared a lot, in his own way.

I was happy to see him in my dream. I wanted to show him a time, where I lived. Pay him back for the wonderful times he'd arranged for me.

I don't think I can do this. Even if I make it to Christmas, I think I'm gonna have to tell Jenny to stay away.

I couldn't leave today. To get food, a secret santa gift, to see old friends. It was hard to just get out of bed. All I want to do is disappear in an audiobook or a tv series.

You know, even food tastes like garbage now. Except chocolate. And cookies.

And scotch.

Thursday, December 3, 2015

golden thyme workshop

First version
Renga style poem (syllable counts for lines: 5, 7, 5 - 7, 7; repeat)
10 mins writing time

I remembered you.
Writing online until dawn.
Instant messenger.

We didn’t need anything.
Just the time to play online.

My kindred spirit.
Best friends before I knew it.
You had a crush first.

So glad I flew to meet you.
Vacation of a lifetime.


2nd version
freestyle: prose
5-10 mins writing time

Whenever I walked alone, I always thought of you
Writing together online til 2am
Bitching about our lives
swapping dark trance music and funny youtubes in aol im
and bad mouthing the other writers.
I had no idea how bad you’d been crushing on me.
I’d only dated boys and I was so messed up.
After I got married
I still masturbated to thoughts of you
of us
in Texas
The greatest winter vacation of my life.
The fire ants, stetsons, and freeways freaked me out,
but the food was fantastic.
And no one’s ever held me at night the way you did.