misbirthed, a quandary in time

A setting sun on the clouds of a day similar to today. I've reached my past and climbed the present and at these heights the only focus is on the wind, the rain. Washing the dirt of misinterpretation, misconception.

The abortion of time. A clot of flesh birthed and deathed too soon. The soldiers of the wound run to find the reasons why It wasn't right. It, being those depths of love that carry your voice to my soul.

I am weary and even I buy their reason, believing the stories of my own mistake. I am caught in the slow forgetting and the prison of never letting go.

Absorbing the visual

A clear and concise tale can be cut and layered by emotional descriptives, mirroring a familiar scent of memory back to the reader. Texture to color, deflect intent. Opening veins of thought, tapping heart strings to play the processes of the mind. Rewarding the churn with slow and complex visuals. Giving the story a pull, a drag, the mind follows, playing catch up, eating and enjoying the complexities of the read.

I reside in the dust of Darfur, in the land of Sudan

I am far from myself, so close to empty. But I have my own hand to hold and for now this is what I crave to own. I will not move from this place, this place in the sand. I will not walk away with another stranger, candy given, pain to come.

I have seen pictures of bodies, dead on the fields of Sudan. So still, so done, rotting in the sun. The breeze shifts a cuff, pushes the sand onto the nail of a hand that once caressed someone it loved. The rot and decay quietly consume every memory, every kiss.

I lie there with them, inviting the decomposition of my existence. The great leveler of egos, petty concerns and trivial worries. The peace maker between warring hearts, broken and deferred dreams. Dead on a field, in a land not my own. I would become the dust of Sudan.

Neptune's bidding

This is just jest and play. There is no trip to Spain on a train or a plane. No Egyptian dogs or robots to reboot.

It's all a dream, weighted and thrown to the sea. The dream and she. They live on the sandy bottom with the crabs and eels. She's Neptune's jelly fish.

She's stung my ragged edges until she's reached indifference. But it's a hateful indifference. A difference indifference.

Through the currents she looks to land, gloating in her ability to breath water, to swim away smug and pleased knowing I am land locked. But I wade, I'm a wader in her sea, her spineless body and heart sting to paralysis my stupid stupid soul.

Us, on a bus in Madrid

I, we and you are a different us than yours. And really, your us probably doesn't include me. It is another us, on a bus in Madrid.

I have a ticket to us. It carries me to Spain by way of plane. Two cats and an unskilled communicator. Visiting a robot and a dog with an Egyptian name.

I will arrive and kiss her metally mouth and search for the on switch to her heart and push the friend button again. There's software to download, forgiveness and an open mind to soften her hard, drive.

help me

3/4 root-canal. Tomorrow. I am not happy. I don't do well with Novocain, it doesn't work for me. The last time I had work done at the dentist (12 years ago) the doctor finally said, "I can't give you anymore, it's effects won't increase at this point." This was after seven shots.

The thought of the needle going into my mouth makes me squirm out of my seat. I just looked at myself after writing that and I'm halfway off the couch, ass hanging over, my ex's laptop precariously dangling between my knees as I dodge the needle and the doctor that's not really here.

Dad will you please come with me and hold my hand and tell me what an ass I'm being? Need my daddy.

I know, I know, it's so not cool to need your daddy when you're 37. But I never said I was cool.

soft serve

There is this wacky guy who lives in the building of one of the dogs I walk. He gets into the elevator with me and my dog and screams, "HI INDIE!" Indie sits close to me looking at him with half interest half discomfort.

I'm looking at the guy trying to not let my lip curl into a snarl. He's not a bad guy just fucking clueless and overly happy in that fake loud pushy way.

Loud Happy Guy yells, "ARE YOU GOING FOR YOUR WALK IN THE RAIN INDIE?!"

Indie: Why yes, I am accompanying my dog-walker here for an hour long stroll where we will also stop by Nellie's place and pick her up too. Hopefully I'll have a nice firm shit so it's not too much trouble for Robin to pick up as she does get pissed when my shit comes out like soft serve. A few pisses on choice trees and hydrants and I should be home in time to grab one of my owners shoes, jump onto the couch and have a chew or two before she comes home. Thanks for asking.

Loud happy guy always thinks if the dog looks at him he has to say, "OH SORRY INDIE, I DON'T HAVE ANY TREATS ON ME RIGHT NOW!"

He then looks at me and by now I am snarling at him because I know what he's going to say "ISN'T IT FUNNY HE ALWAYS WANTS A TREAT?!"

And for the 76th time I say, "Actually just because the dog's attention may be on you doesn't mean you need to anthropomorphize his behavior into behavior you yourself exhibit, the need for a treat, your treat being the crumbs of attention you get from being such a kiss ass loud happy guy."

Ok so I don't ever say this.

I just spread my tight lips into an imitation of a smile, staring dead eyed beyond his head biding my time till the doors open.

cell phone rapists

Got my last Verizon cell phone bill, the one where they say payment due immediately since you've cancelled with them. Over the summer I had one bill at $400 and another at $900+. Sucked, had to change carriers.

I wrote Good Riddance on the front of the bill with an exclaimation point. Felt good.

Blank

Sorry no writing. Story-less.

The all important decisions of a Saturday morning

I shall have tea, with toast and peanut butter and raspberry jam. No I shall make bacon and toast and an egg to sully my toast in.

But then again I could pour a bowl of cereal with a lovely banana cut in.

Although I would rather go downstairs to my favorite bodega to my Arab brothers and ask for a coffee, light, one sugar and have them make me an egg, ham and cheese on a roll.

While there I will probably be drawn to the doughnut section and alas, there is so much to choose..But then again, there's Dunkin Donuts right up the way and the girls there melt the sugar in a sip of hot coffee before they add the ice into my iced coffee so there's no grit at the bottom.

But alas, I do have bagels and cream cheese in the fridge..

Just watching the Merry-go-Round

And again, smokin truth from my dad about that imbecile in the white house

Gill the web designer

Today I was walking to work. This guy stops me and says, "Excuse me Miss, have you heard the announcement that His Holiness will be blessing us with his presence here in Harlem today?"

My head is shaking, "No" as I'm trying to figure out if he's talking about Louis Farrakhan, the Dalia Lama or some high falootin Baptist preacher.

He leans over and says, "Girl, I'm jus fuckin wit choo." I slapped his arm and we walked bumping shoulders, laughing for a block.

And this is what makes me LOVE this city.

Savages

So for the umpteenth time I enter my apartment and my cat Cliff bulldozes his big head into my leg in a pre-rape frenzy to be fed immediately. He screeches and shoves me into the wall, "Oh, you wanna set yer shit down? Fuck you feed me. You wanna take a pee, fuck you feed me."

"Wait, fucker!", I use my foot to push him across the floor hoping it's with enough momentum to bowling ball him into my other nagging cat Iris.

To avoid any further build up of resentment that may lead to me killing them, I force myself to take care of what I want to do first. Real selfish shit like, take my shoes off. Put my bags down and get a drink of water. As I'm doing this he's weaving between my legs, screeching and I'm taking phantom swings at his head, cursing his mother.

Finally I pull the food out of the fridge, phantom kicking and punching at him to keep him out from under my feet. I drop his food bowl with a clang and he huffs the mush into his fat head, crashing his teeth into the metal bowl.

And now they lay so cutesy and lovey on the bed. Purring and cleaning like that's who they really are and I'm sitting here seething, plotting their demise.

The offenders.

I'm so hot

Today I was hit on by a ten year old.

He looked me up and down and said, "Whad up mami?"

Inwardly I said, "Nutin much little papi. Yo baby, I AM old enough to be yo mami."

Outwardly I smiled in that laughing way, he blushed and darted away. Very cute.

Spanked and liking it

I've been reviewed and judged by Ask And You Shall Receive, a.k.a. iwillfuckingtearyouapart.blogspot.com.
She spanked me for whining and for my blood smeared background. These things I can change, the one little prop she gave was that she thought I wrote well..yes! So all in all, I'm pleased.

leaning into the sharpest point today

My friend and I are feeling the contortions of ours hearts as they break and mend. We've been writing to each other a lot.

She quoted a Buddhist saying which I embrace, "Lean into the sharpest point." Meaning feel the pain, all of it without pushing it away. If we do this it will remove the fear and let us progress through it.

Another quote she has thought hard on in her process is from Vernon Howard, "Anger or bitterness toward those who have hurt you will block your path to higher ground. You can have anger toward people or you can have freedom from people, but you can't have both."

She mentioned the anger takes a little longer to get through, as evidenced in this, her words I quote, with permission of course: "When I was praying each day that my robot ex would flip her SUV over the side of the old Kingston bridge suffer a C3 fracture, sustaining paralysis Christopher Reeve- style and awake each morning at 3am to a nurses aid changing her diaper... well this quote helped me through that time."

The rage, it's exhilarating to read. I don't have it to this extent but it is so refreshing to hear the dark of another to help bring back some of the light. She's awesome.

an open hand and heart

The Amish girls that were killed..

A conservative evangelical pastor went to Pennsylvania from Washington DC right after he heard about the killings. He didn't go to the Amish but to the family of the killer because he knew their hell would be forgotten or ignored. I really liked that he'd done this. I respected him for it.

After, he visited an Amish family and watched a mother clean the body of her daughter for her wake and burial. He said the mother touched her body with such love. The grandfather stood by and told the children in the room not to judge the man who killed the girls. To not think evil of him because of what he did.

This is love.

And if I didn't fuck girls, love NYC, curse and think like a sailor I would want to be Amish. But quite frankly, even all of that aside, I'm not sure I could consistently hold such love and forgiveness in me. I am so moved by them.

the workings of the universe coming to pat my heart

My friend sent me this:

"Only one thing made him happy
and now that it was gone
everything
made him happy."- Leonard Cohen

How perfectly it fits into the space that was just emptied by the one thing I loved.

My hands sticky, fumbling with the last bite attached to the pit

My friend said laugh hard three times today and make one really good memory. I didn't laugh hard three times. Maybe once, it wasn't a good day. But I did make a memory.

There was this nectarine. Given to me by a doorman who feeds me fairly regular, kisses me often and tells me secrets about the people in the building. This nectarine looked like any other. But a luscious gift it was, containing such a flavor I almost wept. Every bite a blessing.

"Jorge, the nectarine you gave me, I've never tasted one so delicious I was so happy to have it, thank you."

"I know you baby. I know you to give thanks for de froot. You know, before I was alive I say, 'God, make me in de center of de froot!" and he did. I know you mami, you and I are de same. We see we need to give to the froot, to God."

Indeed

Dragon

Irreverence is essential. That which offends is home to me at 2:44am. I'm on the verge of owning my Ugly.

I spend time pretending to not see my mean lurking in corners. There's sick denial of my Ugly that has it consuming the pretty just to get noticed. So let me say, yes I meant it at the time. I am your dragon. And I'll be it again.

There are times when I would like to knock babies and their cutesy mommys out of the way and fuck girls under 18, 'cause they had it coming to them.

I do judge your slovenly ass as you sit so pleased with yourself on the train. And when you bump into me I sometimes think of how liberating it would feel to sucker punch you so hard in the back of your head that you fall and break your face.

I would like to collect lovers, one for each mood and shade of Ugly and pretty I own. And like the Marilyn Manson lyrics go, "I'm not in love, but Im gonna fuck you till somebody better comes along." Better yet, I AM in love but I'm gonna fuck you till somebody better comes along.

I covet attention from others. I'm piggish about it and play smooth, pretend to be delighted and surprised. I judge my body for aging, it's failure to remain unrealistically, exactly the way I fucking want it. I judge yours for repelling me, making me loath you, for attracting me, making me want you.

You are too white and gentrified. You are too ghetto and rude. You are a fucking bore and when I pass you I see how much better I am and how clueless you are to it. I would put my hand on your head and push off into another direction if I weren't repulsed by the touch.

I want. And I don't want to give back unless it makes me look good. I am a vacuum and I will suck you dry and leave you stupefied. Stupefied 'cause you thought I was 'so nice'. I will be discontented with what you give and leave you no peace till I get more.

Sometimes I love movies depicting the pain and death of the innocence of others. Horror flicks that creep me out by turning me on with blood and death and terror.

I love Marilyn Manson. He's my Ugly and my pretty's hero. He says all the things I'm thinking about you and the world. He stands up for and in his Dark and kicks your balls with it.

And yet, I'm worn by Ugly. I want so much to pretend and not own it. My mom's like this. "Let's pretend it didn't happen and everything will be fine." I'm sticky on one side with this stupid denial. Fuck off and out of me already.

The worst part is my regret and shame about my actions. These actions and thoughts have lead me to realize I would have been better off owning my selfishness as it happened. But I turned from the fire and let it burn unchecked till there was nothing left but fucking regret and an Ugly so big it deserved to be capitalized.

My Ugly lights up like a beacon to the damned. I will drown you if you seek refuge.

Marilyn Manson-User Friendly

I should have taken his picture

There is a bodega on the corner of my building. It's run by an Arabic family. They are so lovely. I think they're all brothers or cousins, whatever, they are lovely.

The most beautiful of the lot was working this morining. He made me coffee, light, one sugar. He said I could speak Arabic. If I can speak English I could speak Arabic. He said something about how America is the place where everyone comes and because of that English speakers can learn other languages with the help of all the other people...something, something.

It didn't make sense and I didn't care. He's so lovely and his energy is so open and friendly. He could have been speaking Arabic to me and it would have had the same effect.

I miss them already

Yesterday's de-blogging orgy rocked. Will write more after tea.