Found in mail today: a gift from the sea fairy (oh oh oh! thank you, Poe!)
Found in class today: Kate's poem "2 of Swords" brings tears to eyes (not just mine) and promotes sincerity in the classroom:
2 of Swords
He tells her he thinks she should write her mother. “Explain to her how you feel,” he says. “If you do it in writing,” he says, “she won’t have the chance to cut you off.” She doesn’t want to hear about her mother or what he thinks. She walks away.
He passes her in the kitchen and she says, “You are to blame for a lot of what has happened.” He calls her a cunt. She’s used to being called a cunt. She’s doesn’t care what he says, he’d never admit a wrong. He says he’s not to blame, “That stupid cunt bitch astrology loving mother of yours is a no good asshole. I’ve said from the beginning that she’s a stupid cunt bitch. I hate that fucking cunt.”
Her mother is no longer a part of her life.
When her father died earlier this summer, she began stripping away parts of her life that no longer needed to be.
She’s cleaning the toilet, their toilet, when he places the box that needs a shipping label on the desk, her desk. He stops to watch her clean the toilet. He leaves and she hears him sit on the couch and watch tv. He’s watching Home Improvement. She thinks to herself that he needs a personal improvement and for the first time that day, smiles. She finishes scrubbing the toilet and takes the gloves to the kitchen. She notices he is drinking a beer. It is 11 am.
She prints a shipping label, places it inside the box that needs to be shipped, and carries the box to the kitchen table. He has placed a roll of scotch tape inside the box that needs to be shipped. The label is ½ the size of a piece of loose leaf paper and the top of the box still needs to be sealed, too. There is not enough tape to do everything and they are out of packaging tape, so she leaves the box and the label on the kitchen table. She goes back to what she was doing.
She’s dusting the office when he yells from the living room over the tv that the box needs to go out in today’s mail. She says they are out of packaging tape. He does not reply.
She has finished cleaning the bathroom, kitchen, office and living room. She has changed the sheets, did the laundry, ran the dishwasher, de-pooped the back yard, and is now creating cover letters for various jobs. He comes into the office and asks her what she is doing. She says she is writing cover letters. “Why?” he asks. “You are a stupid lazy bitch with no work ethic. I told you that package needed to go out in today’s mail. The mail man just pulled up outside and you still don’t have the fucking package on the front step.” “I told you we were out of packaging tape hours ago,” she says. “Well then, stupid, you should have gone to get some,” he says.
He watches the mail man drive away from the front porch and yells inside, “Way to go stupid retard!” Inside he says, “The package didn’t go out.” She tells him that in the time he has spent bitching at her while watching tv and drinking beer he could have went and got packaging tape, sealed up the box, and put it in today’s mail. He says he has to do everything.
He takes the car somewhere. She feels like she needs to get out. She gets on her bike. She ends up at the library. She goes inside, turns around, and leaves. She sits on a bench. She people watches. She wonders what a stupid fat lazy dumb cunt bitch looks like. She takes a picture of herself with her phone’s camera.
When she arrives home he is there. He asks where she was. She says she was riding her bike. He tells her she’s a whore.
That night he is still bitching at her about the box and her laziness when she opens a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli for dinner. He says she is a dumb lazy stupid fat cunt bitch. He asks her why the roast is not ready for dinner and she tells him that tonight she is too stupid fat lazy and dumb to make him dinner. He says she is all those things every night. “Fucking bitch,” he spits. The ravioli swells in her stomach and she feels ill.
She gets ready for bed and from the bathroom she can hear him telling the dogs that their mother is a stupid bitch. She thinks, yes, I am.
A walk from Colonia Roma Sur to Bellas Artes, Col. Centro, on the night of el grito, 15 september 2010, during the celebration of Mexico's independence bicentennial. (The cumbia starts about 6 minutes in, don't miss it. Classic tracks recorded in front of a blown-out speaker with el puebo ahí gozando.)
Adam, speaking of gunshots,
Arrived to studio, ants invaded trash and were crawling in pages of Black Book. Many ants, every day, have to slap and sweep away.
"what if i get married and have babies?" she wrote in her last letter. "would you be my best man? would you be my midwife? i would be so honored. would you help me build my home? i need your capricorn hands."
we are soulmates. i ache missing her today but it feels good to love someone like this.
Then the country turned 200 and some went out into the streets and bought beer and tequila and drank it. Others bought beer and tequila and stayed in their houses and drank it. Some sang the national anthem with tears in their eyes. Others criticized the country until there were tears in their eyes. The point is that most everyone drank and walked the tightrope of laughter and tears that has been this country's acrobatics from the beginning. 200 years is nothing; the city has 489 years in this.
Everyone knows that 489 years ago this city was a lake. Not filled with metaphor, filled with water. The university scientists could explain how it is that a lake turned into a city, but I can't. Chinampas into milpas, capitalist human thirst, destruction of cosmovision, etc. Along those lines. The point is that the city and its monuments were constructed on a slushed mix of sand and water. This is why the earthquakes with their distant epicenters cause so much fear. Hardly any solid ground.
In the centro, the conquerors built one cultural palace out of solid marble. Now their grandchildren measure how many centimeters it has sunk into the sand this year.
The ska band started to play in the old centro. So many pairs of feet began to jump in unison that the whole centro began to shake on the beat. A human earthquake. Small by earth's standards.
200 years of human history, the entire formation of a modern political state. 489 years of mestizaje and laughter and tears. Small by earth's standards. A big deal for the humans here at the moment.
Why is possession so frightening? I encounter a demon on the page. Just seeing the words arranged in a way that suggests evil, I become anxious. I am, in fact, ever so slightly afraid to keep reading. As though taking the works into me invite the demon, too (are the words the spirit? Is language the spirit or vibration?). I read on and there are two stories at work—that of the unseen and that of the physical world. The unseen are where the demons live, the physical is where the effects occur. What does a demon do in the unseen world when he is not possessing a body? One can only communicate a demon (the presence of) with language.
Sorry, Pokie. You have to wait. (But we don't: make out in the orchard like furtive teenagers)
as I was moving out of The BabyHead Wax Factory formerly Known as a Monster of Debauchery, the rain came and left. As the sun fell into the rocks, a double rainbow formed, arcing over the warehouse. This photo does not capture the spectrum of the sight. It does transfer the symbol. I ask myself what it means, and laugh at my brain. What does it mean? What do I want it to mean? This double rainbow signifies the harmony, balance, and beauty of what has been, what will be and what it is now. The rain brings clarity, we see ourselves in that reflection. I am harmony, I am balance I am beauty. Harmony in an Overwhelming world of Beauty and Opportunity..or H.O.B.O . Embrace your inner hobo, let go of the reins, allow space for resonance, defy contrived order. It is all chaos. What does it mean? What do you want it to mean?
When she loves him, life is scary.
Stopped at the light on Clinton River Road and Riverland, she watches a squirrel chasing another one through a yard when suddenly the first squirrel darts into the street. The second squirrel flees after the first, but an oncoming car smashes it flat. Across the street, the first squirrel stops to look for the other, but the other is gone.
there are no black flies
and the only words out of anyone's mouth are...
You are welcome.
You are beautiful.
Have you lost some weight?
Won't you come in?
I am happy you are here.
I missed you.
I love you.
I love you still.
I love you more.
I love you with all of my heart.
I love you more than life itself.
I am grateful to you.
I have this money for you.
You are brilliant.
I see your talent.
You are a great writer.
You are right.
Did I mention that you are beautiful?
I wouldn't change anything about you.
I think you are wonderful.
I am giving you what you want.
Yes, I am giving you what you want.
ghosts say not of you but
one fell swoop-forgotten alphabet
(barely looked down at all)
not enough time to write waking hours
to save the self or someone loved and, too,
mother some parts through meaning
so wrote the dreams last night incoming
the writing, furious attempt to get it down
be-lasting the going becoming
cadence of a jacked-up corvette
before it slips away
guy in red shirt walking with three girls
"this is what it was like on planet earth"
forgive the shape, the shape of USA
interconnectedness one enters and leaves
enough in terms of waking
between days flash by
(there is more to life than one can know)
don't forget the important thing
how the parakeet likens itself to planes
Let’s call this the You Were Here Mashup. It scrambles notes the Greenstreets took when watching my video Parakeet draft, my own notes when watching Kate’s/(their) video Goodbye and my reaction to one of Kristen's posts on Facebook a month or so ago.