|2006-11-19 - 9:13 p.m.
two lines that will never intersect.
i feel like the air in my bedroom has become heavy. literally heavy. i am still sick. after being slightly run down with a cold, i am now full blown delirious. whatever illness this is has made me a people hater. i feel the hate in my blood. when i focus on an individual, i can't hate. but when i focus on all of you at once, i am disgusted. lovers, breeders, part-time poets. what a waste you are.
maybe i'm dehydrated.
maybe i'm amazed at the way i really need you.
i need to ritualize a death. i need to hold a funeral in my honor so i can be reborn. death to impotence. death to patterns, loops and downward sprirals. death to self doubt and self-opposition. death to need and want. death to self-imposed limitations.
january is almost upon us, to my disbelief, and i will be turning 34. as a little girl, when i thought about the future, about how i'd be 26 at the turn of the millenium, i pictured a parallel universe. i imagined a rockstar with light shooting out of her fingertips, saving the world with magic, music and motion. but, sadly, with all of the possible realities i could be existing in, i write to you from this one. the defeated, dehydrated, delusional one.
dear solar from another dimension,
5:42 PM - 6 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
i'm drunk and pissed off. don't bother reading this.
but i guess this trip wasn't about me.
it was about my father. it was about everyone else. it was about my rage and resentment and not only being my parents parent, but being a great one. taking care of my father, doing what's best for him, guiding him toward happiness, seems intuitive. where the fuck were they when it was my turn to be parented? i'm becoming colder and colder. i hate. i'm becoming a hater. and not a funny, cunt-slinging, foul-mouthed party girl like zoe. i'm just becoming a hater who is sad and detatched.
rk47 has been telling me about the show heroes. he's been telling me about its worth and so i've been obsessing. not having outlets for this rage, i've come to long for tv to sedate me. it works. i laugh at the fine tuned cycles of awareness that exist like frequencies we can just tap in to. yesterday, i was obsessed with this wendy and lisa song. if you don't know who wendy and lisa are, you aren't a real prince fan as far as i'm concerned. they did several albums after purple rain fell no more. and they were my guilty pleasure. some of it is cheesy and heavily prince influenced. some of it is solid, catchy hendrix-prince-esque pop.
i finally turn on heroes last night. with wendy and lisa still in my head, i watch their names appear in the opening credits and i am temporarily stunned. wendy and lisa write the score for heroes. i call rk47. i trust him so much more than anyone that i just fall apart when i hear his voice. i tell him about the daughter spirit that is supposedly with me. why she would pick me and i would pick my parents. if that's even how it works. as he talks, tears are streaming uncontrollably down my face. my mom walks in and as i go to tun the tv off, the learning channel has a deformed girl at a birthday party. and the mom says, i just feel blessed that she picked us.
it was weird synergy after weird synergy. and mostly i was just filled with anger and sadness. my housemate says anger is a secondary emotion for other underlying emotions. but i think i've got enough room for all of them to be primary emotions. fear, sadness, rage, resentment, impotence, omnipotence, insecurity. and hope. i'm sure there must be some hope or i wouldn't continue.
i tell rk47 that i'm free-falling down a cliff.
5:56 PM - 8 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
when you get caught between the moon and new york city.
4:30 AM EST. my phone alarm goes off and i am instantly alert. the downstairs shower is broken so i stumble through the dark to the upstairs bathroom in my mother's house. i've never used this shower before. i can't help but think of it as sandy's shower. she was my mother's old housekeeper who attempted suicide while living here many years ago. fortunately, she received shock treatment and became a muslim.
5:15 AM EST. still dark, it is raining just enough that i am not looking forward to the drive to manhattan. from this house, driving in to the city down either the east or west side highways is equidistant, though i have always preferred the west side drive. the west side scenic route is a video game, with banked roads and cop-free straight-aways and i know it like my own body. since my father and his hospital are on the east side, it only makes sense to drive the east side. the east side offers only rough roads and ghetto crossings, but i must suck it up in the name of efficiency.
6:00 AM EST. we arrive at the hospital. my father is audibly nervous as his constricted muscles make his vocal chords quiver. i hate knowing this hospital well. it seems wrong. even though it's been almost 2.5 years since his esophagectomy, i feel like we were all just here, with me wondering if my dad might be better off leaving this world behind. he and i are similar in that our happiness lies forever on an unapprochable horizon. i am crippled by my own awareness. some people do, others just are. but i'm spun in violent upheavals thinking about doing and being with an outcome of nothing more than paralysis and despair. but no one will surrender today. today it is prostate cancer ane we're here to get through it.
7:30 AM EST. i sit in the family waiting room, the fluorescent lights above are less than soothing as i imagine my father on a table with machines invading his body. music from my headphones drowns out multiple stories around me as i stare out the window in to the hospital courtyard. it is a dark morning still, heavy with anticipation. the weight of my father's existence is pushing yellow leaves in a spiral dance toward the ground, the cycles of life seeming so much less graceful on this side of the glass.
1:15 PM EST. after lunch at candle cafe, having no idea we lied to a man and stole his taxi cab, we return to the hospital. we kill time in the gift shop where we decide to buy him a balloon and a stuffed animal. the balloon is a giant, pink, mylar foot that says, "IT'S A BABY GIRL." the stuffed animal is a kitten. around the kitten's neck, i make a tag in a heart-shape. on the front of the tag i write a number "3" and on the inside, "TWO DOWN, SEVEN TO GO! L'CHAIM!" for those of you not chosen, l'chaim means to life.
2:10 PM EST. we are led in to the ICU. i don't know if you've ever seen anyone just out of surgery, but they are swollen like jabba the hut. i've seen too many of my family members like this and i am relieved at how good he looks, considering. he is in too much pain to appreciate the humor of a baby girl announcement, so we wait until his morphine drip kicks in before we leave (about 2 nanoseconds).
4:25 PM EST. finally, we are settled in the room. my father is relieved at the news that the cancer was removed and totally contained. now he's just cut meat. like i was. like my sister was. like he was before. and now, he fully appreciates his new mascot, third-life kitty.
6:00 PM EST. with 2 hours left to visit, i walk to an empty room to eat some leftovers. this room is on the 8th floor and facing the east river. it has been an incredibly long day...or was it three days? due to a slight overdose of ambien on the plane, time has melted into a story i am slowly telling. the rain has been at a fairly consistent flow all day and i watch the lights reflect as they hit the river.
the city is always beautiful from above.
8:19 PM - 3 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
new grass, one of talk talk's finer tracks, is a perfect song for riding the bus in the rain. the weather shift a few days ago has softened the air and deepend the rhythms. in that space, incubated by moisture and shadow, i could hear everything. each tread and sigh, the constant hum of the breathing metropolis.
somewhere out there, you ae going about your business. you are fucking someone. you are brushing your teeth. you are using a good pen to cross things off that list. you are looking in the mirror. you are putting on music and cleaning the house. you are sitting down to spill out the contents of your head. bleeding something on something. somewhere out there, you are dreaming of me.
i'm heading to the airport in a few hours. i'm going to take and ambien and wake up in NY. i like the surrealism of red-eyes, when i can actually sleep. time lines are all an illusion anyway and i'd rather not be exhausted by them.
i've had a fucking helluva ride the last few weeks. my heart and my body need a little TLC in the weeks to come. i have lived and loved beyond my means, as usual. now i will go east to take care of my father, have another mouth surgery, and hold my nephew as tightly as i possibly can. i don't ever want to let go.
see you in NY.
6:35 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
The Vows of Sebastiaan and Samantha
I was just going through old papers and file cabinets, trying to clean my life, clean my mind, clean my heart. I stumbled across old modeling photos and dark poetry. I also found my wedding vows. I was 23. I think I knew what I was talking about.
May 23, 1997
I vow to let our pure and true love act as a binding agent
I vow to take all measures to identify and execute my own truths
I vow to honor, respect and support your freedom of mind, body and soul
In our life together, there will be pain and pleasure,
By successfully committing to these beliefs, we create a space
I vow to take these hands in mine for eternity. The hands of my teacher,
8:28 PM - 9 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
still toxic on a wednesday morning.
i remember the evening in episodic waves.
i met up with schlomo and co. at the latin american club. all of our friends were around the corner, waiting to get in to the extra action marching band show. i had a small water bottle in my bag filled about three-quarters with citrus vodka. it was a lot but i brought that much to share. please note that detail. i didn't start drinking it until we left the bar.
being in front of 12 galaxies was like walking through a waking dream. lovers from my past, present and undoubtedly, my future. this is the only part of the night that i remember details. seeing such gorgeous people. people that infused me with love and excitement. incandescent, as my new friend orji put it, although i hadn't met him just yet.
we didn't have tickets, but being with everyone outside sufficed. from there, i walked about five doors down to mission control. this is the infamous space, home to polly pandemonium and kinky salon. i was casually swigging the vodka. i think only because i was holding it, really. it was a huge mistake. i remember falling even more in love with polly, meeting her siamese twin orji, and seeing clara.
i'm thankful i came home in one piece with all of my possesions and my body intact. and i was having such a good night too. waah. lovers and friends, old and new...my favorite kind of good times.
9:47 AM - 9 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
a six day weekend is a suicidal perscription.
i barely have enough energy to hit the keys on this laptop.
my weekend started last tuesday.
that night, i had a sleepover with nieves and we drank vanilla-infused vodka and played trivial pursuit. my body took a beating from the day and i passed out in her attic nook while trains blew their whistles maybe 300 feet away.
great! oh yes! bam! ok! drunky feeling gone! hey got more?!? ah yes, now i remember, you manipulative, white devil. wanting more, and wanting to relax, i invited to crew over to party on my deck. when we got to my car, the doors were locked and the car was running with the keys inside. HA! HAHAHAHAHAHA HA! no really, HA! how does that even happen? oh yeah, three bottles of sake. well, AAA came in record time. 10 minutes! we partied at my house until the wee hours, me grinding my jaw the entire time. what a fucking nightmare. but besides that, it was a brilliant evening. i even got to see 2 boys make out.
i would write about day five but i kind of got derailed on day five. could have been the coke hangover. could have been the sleep deprivation. could have been the fact that i got my period. could have been my older housemate decided i'm throwing too many parties and gave me shit in the morning. could have been because i had no costume. could have been from freaking out about having a daughter. why? one of the boys with us the night before was a psychic and kept getting messages from the little female spirit floating around me. he said she was waiting for me and he freaked my shit out. i am terrified to be the mother of a girl until i can be a strong female role-model. the amout of self-loathing i have is unacceptable for a child to witness. so the idea that there is a little girl waiting for me, sent me in to a spin.
needless to say, i had a nervous breakdown.
i spent saturday night in such hysterics that i had to wear sunglasses the next day. dionne and adam came home at 4 in the morning, pouncing on my bed and showering me with love. they were giggling uncontrollablly that they had almost been locked out and had dionnes purse emptied entirely in front of the door while they searched on all fours for almost 30 minutes.
day six was today. it started VERY early. dionne was gone. adam and i had coffee with his dad and RK47. then i did errands, returned the rental car, sent adam off with super shuttle at 5:15 and basically short-circuited.
i'm inside-out and i'm destroyed.
6:37 PM - 6 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
it's what i would've said.
fucking brilliant... width="425" height="350">
1:27 AM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
boy, you're going to carry that weight a long time.
it is saturday night. somewhere, within a 50 mile radius, many people i know are having a raging good time. whore houses, warehouses, friend's houses...you name it, people are getting their party on.
and what am i doing here? alone with my faithful machine? being snotty and sick, talking to my true love in OZ, watching battlestar galactica, and trying to read about the mythology and demise of forests. good reading, really, if i had an actual attention span. what? over where?
i've had too much time to think. it has become a self-indulgent meditation, going deeper and deeper until the thoughts lose definition and become visceral. my overall mood is that of heaviness and separation. but not in a depressive way. more in the way of having returned from a war.
have i been in a war? i have not been in a war with guns. i have not been shot at. my life has not been threatened by a single individual (excluding me). but i have endured tremendous suffering and tests of survival. the feeling of separation is like a badge that settles in after enduring deep fear, deep chaos, deep trauma. i would like to divulge the deepest of this, but instead i will give you lighter examples.
i was living in istanbul in 1993. right after the bombing in the grand bazaar, the political climate was too intense and we headed to the south coast. while there, my boyfriend and i met an english couple who were babysitting a piece of land with about 10 small cabins on it. it was a few months before the tourist season, so everyone was incredibly friendly and off-guard. the english couple let us stay in one of the bunks on the land. it was incredible. we were a 50 yard walk to the beach where i swam every day. there were many different kind of fruit trees growing outside our door. life was rich and simple. the english couple said they were waiting for the owner to return for the season. they had some financial arrangement to watch it. they had to leave so they handed over the property to us.
we became friends with our turkish neighbors pretty quickly. they made us food and gave us wine and we all dined together on the roof of their white, plaster hotel. they even killed a goat for us, which my boyfriend graciously ate, happily ending his vegetartian streak. i remember he fought me over my refusal.
when the owner returned, he seemed fairly shady. paranoid. and we started to notice some of the neighbor's friends sitting on their roof acting suspicious. a curdish vs. turkish thing. hot and cold war. we were sensing the same tension in the air here as was in istanbul right before we left. and our passports were about to expire. but we had no political alliance, and we did not ask questions.
somehow, the owner worked a deal with us.
he said he was running from the curds who were planted next door. he told us he would rent us a car and give us $600 once we got back to istanbul. (i feel like i've told this story before). $600 was a LOT of money in turkey in '93. and certainly enough to renew our passports and get back south.
the only catch was--
he gave us 24 hours to think it over.
we were up against a wall. no money. expiring passports. no options. this seemed like an amazing opportunity. we just rationalized that he was paranoid and delusional and we would get him safely home to his parent's place. a good deed, really.
he gave us cash up front for the car rental. cash up front was a good first step. there are MANY tourist scams in turkey which made us leave istanbul in the first place. the fear and excitement were building in my chest. i had heard stories about what happend to people in turkish prisons. it was terrifying to allow those thoughts in. focus. get the rental. go into town. meet at tea house. inconspicuously get him in the trunk. leave town.
so we did. we headed north with a man in our trunk, who stopped us every hour to get out and pray. every fucking hour. there was one moment where i thought we were being followed. i assumed we would just be shot immediately. i held this fear in my heart even upon arriving in istanbul. even upon receiving the full payment. even while in the US embassy. i didn't shake the fear until the sun was rising over the ruins of ephesus. we crawled through the gate and made our way to the remains of an ancient library. it was several stories and gutted. and we just sat there quietly on the overgrowth. i had to let it all catch up with me before i could start to let go.
when we returned to the south coast, it was like a third person was with us. the experience was like an invisible friend no one else could see. and we kept it safely between us.
what i've been feeling is kind of like that. like i'm surviving something invisible and i have to carry it with me. i'm trying to learn from it. people say that they embrace everything that made them who they are. but i would have been who i am with half of what i've endured.
it's a heavy load and i'm ready to put it down.
11:34 PM - 5 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
11:32 PM - 8 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
The wheels on the fucking amazing bus go round and round.
It takes a while for new information to settle in. And in the time it takes to settle, mixed with filters of perception, the information becomes something else.
Humans are animals. Of course we are more and less simple than that, but at the core of it, we are creatures who socialize and survive. Who socialize to survive.
Late sunday night I returned from an epic adventure. A friend of mine owns a Green Tortoise bus and periodically creates incredible trips with select passengers. This particular trip was originally supposed to be The Creepy Tour-- visiting an airplane graveyard, sleeping in a cemetery on Friday the 13th, and soaking in hot springs, which would most likely have creepy men lurking about.
Even though I had never been on one of his bus trips before, I used to go on bus trips with the Cyberbuss a lot. We would go camping, set up at street fairs and outdoor parties, cruise in art car parades, stage roller derbies using shopping carts, create an annual Olympics at 3 Comm park with events like potato sack races and couch pole-vaulting. Generally the Buss has been the provider of many freaky good times.
Due to expected rain in the Mojave, we headed north instead. We had no back-up plan so the new idea was that we were being kidnapped. This was fine with me, as I was prepared to surrender complete control.
We drove (and drank and slept uncomfortably) through the night to a campground at Lake Shasta. The air was mild and fresh in the morning. It felt fucking great to be alive. After hiking down to the water, we drove to take a ferry across the lake to go spelunking in nearby caves. The ferry ride alone would have been pleasure enough for me. Being on the water is so soothing, such a sedative. The hot sun beating down, cheesy pop music played up front, cool breeze blowing through the open deck. Smiling faces everywhere.
The cave tour was given by a barely-legal hottie named Danielle, who kept referring to formations in the rock as specific food items, while really they all looked like labias, vaginas and testicles (pictures on Flickr to come, I promise). We were a rowdy bunch, challenging with wit and perversion but always knowing when to pull back. We knew Danielle could take it.
After cave exploration, we drove to Big Bend to settle in to a campground along a river with several different springs, a firepit, a gazebo, and an insanely adorable Chihuahua puppy with ears as big as her face. We were there to settle for two nights and two days.
It is an incredible social experiment, putting people together in different circumstances, under various forms of entertainment and conflict. I observed every single motion. Every personality. Every gaze. Every clique. Every underdog. The jesters and leaders gently jockeying for position. Chameleons and caretakers wearing several hats at a time. Performers, lovers and intellects throwing their goods into the ring. Everyone having a place, a position in the microcosm. Alliances and alignments we form, to maximize our experience, to lock our position, to imprint our value.
The only structure to the day revolved around hot soaks, river hikes, meal time, folk songs and sing-a-longs, fires and drugs. Everything was ritual (even the coffee, thank you Jessy and Matthew). Coming together, playing and dispersing. Tripping out under satellites and newly explained galaxies that we got to view through a telescope. Sensual nitrous exchanges on poolside benches lit only by a moonless night. Getting to experience the brief bliss of dissociation while framed by forest silhouettes.
.. .. ..
The bus ride home was out of control. I have never seen more bottles of cheap booze emptied more quickly. K-Rob DJ'd a dance party the likes I haven't seen in ages. There were only a select amount of whip-its left and most of them were consumed during Bon Jovi. Being a newcomer to the drug, and therefore revering it, I waited for Primus to come on. Upon exhalation, during the melting wave, I closed my eyes and allowed the sound to turn into energy. Lap dances to my right, hair-pulling to my left, gut-wrenching laughter in ripples, floating to the back of the bus where some people were trying to recover, and a fake-blood covered piņata above me, moments away from explosion. If that's not what euphoria looks like, I don't know what is.
5:19 PM - 11 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
whether to weather the weather.
the wind is thrashing around the trees outside my window. it sounds incredible-- a sweeping, emotional outburst after a serene and sunny day. a trademark, thick and rapidly moving blanket of fog is pouring over twin peaks like honey, dissipating on to market street.
all manners of weather in its extremity makes me want to fuck. darkness, downpour, raging winds...get. thee. in. me. if we are connected to cycles of the moon, changing of the seasons, pulling of the tides, why shouldn't i feel the sentiment of the heavens? clashing fronts, electrical charge...my body is paying attention.
but there's a problem houston.
i'm not fucking anyone.
sure, i'm getting dirty. i'm having fun. i'm playing here and there. but for the first time in a long time, i can't tolerate the idea of sex without love. i think i've lost the inablility to disconnect just long enough to have an orgasm. every time i'm given the option to have sex, when i want it of course, i've gone for it. and more and more, i wake up hollowed out. what the hell is up with that? intellectually, i think it's perfectly fine to have LOTS of great sex. if it's with someone i really dig as a person. someone i at LEAST respect. but apparently, my heart and my soul feel otherwise.
i hope this won't dissuade anyone here from throwing themselves at my feet. i'm still doing auditions on the couch.
growing up is a funny thing. things that used to matter, don't. things that didn't matter, are starting to creep up on me. there is always a balance in this life. i feel more free and less free. self-awareness seems to have a system of checks and balances, if you're doing it right.
i don't want to stop having sex just because i'm not in love. i don't even know what my idea of love is anyway. i've got it all upside down and inside out. and SO MANY friends of mine are coupled. i observe them, like i observe everything. with intense scrutiny and detail. and one thing i realize is i have HIGH standards for a partner (even though i expect the same of myself). i say this because in every relationship i witness, a LOT of sacrafices have been made. i guess i always thought i could partner up with almost exactly what i want. or what i think i want. or what my program tells me to want. or what i think i need.
i was married once, fer chrissakes. and he was everything i thought i wanted. until it was time to actually do the work of love. and we had a lot of work to do. the idea that we weren't as perfect as he thought we'd be, scared the hell out of him. he was married to the idea of our perfect selves. but who is their perfect self 100% of the time...if ever??? so he bailed. there, i said it. the one relationship that i didn't end was my marriage. he got scared. and you know what? his decision made me realize, no real partner of mine would just give up. he obviously wasn't my partner.
so now i'm left seduced by the stars, played by storms, carried away by fierce winds, baptized by downpours, only to wake up alone with the sun. and sometimes, i slip out before it comes.
7:39 PM - 21 Comments - 11 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
returning from mill valley after a film screening last night, i was all dressed up and felt good in my skin and i just couldn't tolerate going home so early. my friend wordmast and i went to martuni's and i proceeded to quickly get more than tipsy off of tequila gimlets. that wasn't really the plan, but we ran into his boss and she was already marinated at the piano. of course, she and her husband adored us and got us way too drunk.
i'm so hungover right now. gah.
this would be fine, as it is the lord's day of rest and i could just lay around cursing cheap tequila. but for us san franciscans, it is yet another eventful day. the burningman decompression party is in potrero and almost everyone i know in the city will be there. it's not like i have to go. but i really want to. can't i just send my clone?
last year, there was in independent movie shot in my house. i had just returned from NY, and when i walked in, there were strangers crawling around. people bringing lights up on the roof, actors slipping out of the guest bedroom, grips and gaffers eating food in the dining room. it was a little overwhleming but pretty exciting.
my housemate and i were asked to be extras in a bar scene. in this picture, i am under the boom in the black shirt with cut-out shoulders. we had a great (and long) day on the set in san jose. the next day, they shot two scenes in the tenderloin and i got to know some of the cast and crew. i say this with respect, as he has a wife and child, but donnie keshawarz is beautiful.
last night was the mill valley film festival. the premier of drifting elegant. mostly, i went to see the scene i am in. my house was in the film a bunch of times but i only made it into a quick montage. nothing to write home about.
but just enough to blog about.
1:09 PM - 8 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
the burden of comfort.
time is measuring up in bodies and headlines,
your apathy makes me sick.
having so much comfort and t i m e
the burden of luxury is upon us.
you're getting s l e e p y
you will only hear the sound of my voice and while you sleep, envision a world where you are god. you can do anything you want. fight for a better tomorrow. rise to a better self. you have a right to be here. treat everything as if it were you. with love. with reverence. with possibility.
and now, when i count to three,