Thursday, July 21, 2016

Why is it that the most peace loving souls always attract the most violence?

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

pain day two



So I was 18 when that happened. I couldn't be with a guy until I was 25. I would shake when someone got too close. Do you know how lonely it gets in there? Needing closeness and fearing it. Everbody told me I was a beauty but it got me into a lot of trouble. It seems people want to crush beauty. I withdrew for a long time. I never came out. Do you blame me? A long time ago when I was really small I swore to myself to come out normal. I saw up close some terrible ways that pain warps a character. I didn't want that to happen to me. I fear worst that it did and I just don't notice. I fear I am cruel without meaning to. I don't know what I feel sometimes. For too long just numb. And I think that can hurt worst.

I watched life pass me by from in there and didn't care. I did everything right outwardly. Mostly not there. Nobody noticed. But then I tried, like with my daughter and now she has hurt me too. I can't win. Really talk about a fucking reject. No kidding. How did I get to be the Britney Spears of my family? That wasn't me either. I am none of those.

I realize lately that modern psychology only deals with averages. 

I throw off that curve.

So, I don't really belong in modern psychology. That's why I have to hitch hike out of there. This is a world they'll never know. They never had to create it. I didn't have to but I did it because I knew it was the only way to survive until I was not a minor. I counted the years on my fingers. I thought about Cinderella. That was me. Stupid fairy tale. I believed it. I needed it. That was little girl first mistake. Sorry kid.

Revise.

Cinderella turns feral. Patty Smith. June Miller. Bad girl in Damaged. Category: epsilon?

So I guess you could say I was pretty much a virgin still when I met John. Even though I was 25. I looked 16 though, I don't know why, I've always looked younger than my real age. I was inexperienced, maybe that's why. Vacant dumb stare? There's Eastern Standard Time and then there's Dawn Time. Time moves at another frequency here. It slows and speeds up at will. I wish I could get it to fast forward the bad parts. But I'm getting better at it. 

They call it dissociative disorder. But that is only because they don't understand Zen. If you do it consciously it's a power not a disorder. Look at what people can do in combat. That's power.

So, I've turned a corner away from old school conservative approach on human behavior. I'm not one for the books so, chuck it. I know better than they do, I've walked the walk, what the fuck are they doing in board meetings? Bored.


Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Other secrets





Need to write for awhile. In between surreal pain and keeping the light out. Only natural things seem to help me best, so sick of vomitting medications. It's been so hot and it's made my spine spasm so it's inflamed. It's hell red in here. Come join me.

I think while the red explodes in here because it's distracting. But my fucking fingers won't work. This iPhone is unforgiving sometimes. Like Hal invaded my phone. Gremlins. The other day at work.... they all know me now a year. They see I'm not doing so good. So I guess they want to know how this happened to me. Was it a car accident. Of all people P. asks me this. She just got back from a terrible car accident. So, I guess victims sense victims somehow. She asked me, 'how did your hands.... and your back and your ankle....' I don't think anyone really asked me that straight out. She says, 'was it a terrible car accident? Did you fall....' Like really pressing me. I mean we all know each other and I've been there a year now. I guess it --so I go, 'no, I was attacked.' It just came out on its own and I just went with it. I saw she really wanted to know. I don't get her. She gave me so much trouble when I started there but she's been trying to get me to do things with her. Actually they all have. But I've only trusted J. because she's like well like what I guess a mom would have been like. I feel safe with her. But she never asked me about what happened. So Ph. did. She listens and waits for me to say more. I say, 'my neck.... I was being strangled. He left me there for dead.' She has told me about her neice who was found hanged before so I knew it was ok to tell her what really happened to me. I see her mouth drop open. I feel bad. So I explain. 'I was at school. It was in a dorm. He was the star basketball player. That was my welcome to America.' So she goes pale and I see her eyes fill with tears. She says, 'was it a rape?' I say, 'yes.' She says, 'he did that to your neck and... I guess you were defending yourself with your hands and kicking.' I say, 'yes. That is exactly how. Why.' I am amazed anyone figured that out. Not a single other person has.

She shares with me that she was molested as a child. Often. So, you see, there are more people out there like us. Because I explain my ignorance of this country when I first got here. Not growing up with boundaries too as far as intimate sexual boundaries, also having been molested repeatedly. She says people can't see it but it's a here. That it changes you forever. She tells me that the guy who did this to me is out there now.... I know.
Today I have very bad pain. My spine is throbbing in my brain. Throwing up all night but I haven't eaten. Throwing up my stomach insides. Throwing up all day. I can't move. This sux, I'm crying because I can't help it. I wonder if the neural sack burst.  Can that kill me? I can't tap these phone keys. Too heavy right now-- later diary dictionary. 

Friday, July 15, 2016

saving the world & Mona Lisa*




Courtney: 

It was a Friday; worked all day and went to gym after..... 

Courtney has an epiphany while walking. She watches clouds in the sky. It is a blue sky that is perfect but below are thick white clouds. She watches the clouds because she's going nowhere fast. Treadmill. Going nowhere fast. 

There is a gull that flies by, it looks silver in the brilliant light because the sun is battling out the clouds. Good and evil. There has been new disaster now in France. This time Nice. It makes her depressed. What has become of this world? Is there anything left to say or any way to make it all better? She always thought she could save it.

Sometimes she thought she wanted out. Just wanted out. Sometimes she still does. 

Today it was hot and driving to work with the windows stuck closed up.... and no AC; she felt like her brain was melting. 

Maybe it was because this just makes her tense. 

But she looks up at the clouds. She gets a sick feeling because she sees something ..... she has her headphones on.... 

her bands become the soundtrack to her life and lately it's been this band because there was something about the energy of the songs, the unusual pace, that beat.... that has been keeping her going, like a machine pumping her heart.... for her ....because she didn't feel like she could anymore; 

all faith in people all tapped out. And the singer's voice is the guide through her brain, pulling her through her scenes of inner hell, clearing her way past all her demons, eyes closed and going nowhere fast, the voice like Virgil and Orpheus and on the tv screens all over the gym, the news is on everywhere. Everyone is looking at the images of things that look like the end of the world. It's surreal. It scares her. It's like that movie Independence Day.

But this is what scares her as she looks up again: among all the heavenly pure white clouds there is a dot that grows that forms into an ink black cloud. It is above in the midst of all fluffy white. She gets a chill. She watches this cloud grow. Before it showed up in the sky there had been only big beautiful white puffy clouds.... the voice that guides says, 'you can sit beside me when the world comes down'* as she watches the clouds in the sky ....get absorbed by the black cloud

she watches, the sky turns grey in front of her; vision drowning; for the world. It mirrors fears of total obliteration of her own meaning.

When she gets home after, later she will text to Jim that she doesn't feel well. And beg off their date, she doesn't want to go out. And she will feel bad knowing she's being mean to someone but she just can't help it. 

But right now she is thinking of her Zack, thinking of the way they always walked together, their trails.... convinces herself to think of something else fast, anything, anything to avoid the morass she takes there and back. She forces back the dam; she wills it away with the muscle that comes from watching fairy tales end ....so just the voice holds her. Now. Because it is human and there is feeling which reassures her that maybe she's not the only one and lets its harmony pull her down a quiet stream; safe and cool under a canopy of leaves.... still going nowhere on the treadmill.... and thinking: isn't it strange? There are people all over this huge room and there is a row of people all walking to nowhere. And behind her another row of people on bikes going nowhere. This begins to freak her out.... 

No. And wills it away, mind glued to those thoughts defended behind armor, within the canopy, within the voice that pulls her. Somebody said yesterday that music can make you high. Did anyone ever doubt that? Of course it does. It is the one place she could fall into and fully let go to. The only place. It was the only art she couldn't do; no natural skill for music. No doubt why it was that she loved it. She could turn off her thoughts and let the mystery flow over and overflow her mind.

So she thought about her husband. She missed his music. The way he would play his guitar, the warm sound he gave it. So she thought about him and the end of the world and so many conversations they'd had about this kind of thing. For all his negative qualities there was one very amazing quality beside his musical gift and his wit and.... the way he moved against her that was better than anything-- no this was that he never wavered in his love for her. But that was never the issue really. It was more that if she mattered enough to him than why didn't he take better care of himself--get help? Why did he let their life fall to ruins? Why was she left rowing the boat alone? 

turning her back on the end of the world as Tyson says, 'if we can change the weather, if you wanted to yourself, and if you can't I guess we all need help, yeah I need help....'*

She thinks of her husband and wished he could understand that phrase.... but that is the mystery of his genius. 

They have been separated for over a year, almost two, she realizes. It's been a whole year since he moved away. She left him and then he left the state.

What could their life ever be to make that work? She tried to image. Right now there had been no drama in her life since he left. Her life was not the disaster it was when she lived with him. The liquor bottles everywhere, tripping over beer bottles, blowing more money on weed and abusing his medications. 

Sometimes you gotta go, you know? Even though your heart still loves. 

She walks to nowhere as the world comes down and sees a text come on to her phone from him. She looks at the sky. It's turned blue again. It's a sun shower now and everything looks fresh and clean.

When she walks to her car she thinks about all the men she's dated since Zack and she broke up.... and thinks about why she just can't.....she can't can't 

She lets the sunshower rain on her 

feeling distracted her thoughts

Her latest persuer is texting her. Yesterday he seemed great.... But then, so did that other guy, and they prabably really are, she supposed. 


her thoughts stand over a half dead horse 

What if they just always lived seperately? Be like those Bohemian writers she always admired....

But then he'd get evicted ....and wind up staying over and never leaving. And their life would go to pot. Back as it was, taffy thoughts and those questions from everyone asking her when were they going to be divorced ....every time someone asks her about that she doesn't say anything. Just shrugs. Because she can't somehow and none of this makes any sense, and yes she knows that. What does make sense anyway?

She should go out. Everybody says and she has more admirers now than when she actually 
cared, why does that happen that way? .... but looking up and he'd be walking towards her, the way he smiled, would say his nickname for her and open his arms....thinking about the better times, and where they go? She pulls into park and heads to her place saying no. No, stop. Gets the mail, she wills thoughts to neutral. Falls shattered but sound inside the music turned up to deafening. Home. 
'If we can burn a city, in futures and in past
Without a change our lives will never last
Cause we're going fast....'

She blends into the harmony singing--deaf, totally high, like that seagull flying across the sky all silver in the sunshine.

'You can sit beside me when the world comes down.'*

Maybe tomorrow she can save the world 




*Mona Lisa --song lyrics and Real World  from All American Rejects ❤️ 

😘thank u t.r. (i went4it)

Thursday, July 14, 2016

splat

Oh dear and o m g. He's a very naughty boy. Emphasis on boy! How do I this? He says he's been after me for months? Well  blow me. Away. He's still messeging me! And he's at work. But yeah, another 30ish guy. Talking to Stef tonight she was saying how I could totally pass for her age. But I'm like, "what? No way!" Laughing at that! Weird. So very very weird. But oddly fun. Frightening too. Like I feel like Ms Stenz in High School. She was my advanced Lit teacher. She always had six boys from my class circled around her! She was like pushing 60 but beautiful and witty. Obviously one of my biggest role models! My sister hated her as a teacher but Ms Stenz made me her teacher 's pet. Unheard of! She only flirted with the boys! Anyway, so..... Yeah, being chased by thirty year olds without even trying. Yeah... Come here sweetie--can you open this for me? Not that! Bad boy. So the friend who we both have in common is someone I haven't like been in contact with at all. So. I mean, it's good to be careful; discreet. I really am a lot like my parents. Notorious. Maybe that's what I should be writing about. I mean, I can blow fifty shades away. 

The two sides of Eve. An angel in the living room and a whore in bed. Key to happiness, I always say. Is it a craving? Primal --they sense it. The other day this guy from my class back in the Netherlands, out of the blue he likes something I said, right? Nobody ever hears a peep from him ever. My sister went out with him when they met up at our reunion. What's so funny is, in the eighth grade I went steady with him. He is the first boy who put his tongue in my mouth, isn't that funny? We used to hold hands on the school bus! So this is funny to me because I think she could be a little pissed about it, especially as I'm really chummy with the boy in high school who broke her heart. My best friend. And we were just about to prabably date when my sister asked me to set her up with him. And my parents made me do this. We still talk about that, he and I, see, people don't grow up. Not really. So why did I start writing about that? Oh yeah, Mr. Lance in the eighth grade, that teacher who kept my diary, he used to call me a 'Siren' and I remember looking across the classroom at the person I said liked my status and it made me remember that he would make faces at me whenever Mr. Lance started fawning over me because it really made the boys mad at me. Like it was my fault? Weird position when the person who grades your work is having dirty thoughts about you and you're 13. But anyway it's no joke, I really am a Faery. I used to fly around the world with my daughter until she stopped believing. 

Splat.