sometimes in life we fuck up; sometimes that one fuck up is all encompassing; people melt away or they throw acid but if you are lucky you find what really matters 

      

always center safe

well, so blows my mind how all the years melt away in such moments like these 

if I were to stand above they would all look like dozens of skyways crisscrossing in all directions 

I think of one of those —somewhere in the Bronx it was that I took the wrong exit —and—because the service light went on. Little red riding hood. Anyway. I blew off the job interview because after my life flashed before me I was in a weirdish mood 

it seems I get a lot of those moods

the memory of a thousand kids turning out for my nephew’s funeral—ides of March just four years ago 

it is like you can touch a memory —looking up at him when he’d told me his plan ….

and people turning up in my life from my past ….once I could run away but the phone is the actual ball and chain isn’t it 

only I think I orbit out there away from the planet on some other galaxy 

but perhaps 

The north east here 

Jörn …. Oh that man with those vampire eyes —tell me why —why do you allude me so?

tbc

 

signs

so out of here

Alas, I belong to me and that map, this legend 

I am everywhere at once 

& recall the way

stretch and reach …. the path lays out, if overgrown and untended ….it is still there 

and it still welcomes all our celves 

Continued ….

 

but then he says the strangest thing,

“this—was not about—that—has nothing to do with—“ and he inflects his hand in a gesture of ‘you and me’ 

but I don’t look as I start to stand up 

I keep my eyes steady on his face not letting my eyes once drift to his lying hand gestures 

“Nothing has changed between us,” he says

and still I don’t look there. and my eyes get blurry. but I keep my eyes on him even as the blur wells and overflows.down my face.I never even blink and the torture numbs my brain 

“that had nothing to do with—“ ….again the hand gesture

I don’t plan it.

It happens.

I slap his face.

I didn’t know I was going to

 it is a swift slap and hard 

And like a person trained for combat, he moves to slap me back ….I forget whether I get out of his way or he stops in time 

“What is this?!”

It is Elsa who walks in now 

she looks at me and then at Jörn. Then walks to me still staring at Jörn and helps me step away from the counter I have been leaning against from the after affects,

“come….” she says and louder with a tone of command at Jörn, “your father is waiting!” 

Betrayals noir

And as I slide down the wall again onto the kitchen floor by the counter 

“Why did you do it?” I look up at him still standing there by the window 

He starts to walk closer to me. Such a strange look in his eyes

I get the sick feeling; the dry heaves  ….and want to be sick, 

“It was spring when I sensed the shift in you…. and your betrayal.”

Like a knee jerk response he exclaims,

“my betrayal!?”

but I look quick at his eyes and I see. I see it there. But I already knew 

 

another county heard from.what is the universe telling me

 https://youtu.be/xAT6dRylQfg

 have faith my lovelies 

it must be

pourquoi es-tu si cruelle ?

 Je detente les gens parfois

within wet walls; muse

 

~hallway pass~

here we are in between the chapter as he stands there by the window 

I’m lost within 

and write from my crypt 

because …. life’s emotions have caught me in a vise of oxymorons —it all comes back 

              if I say identity is wrapped up in all of who we are

    are we gender

are we gender? are we gender ….he says he will call later —he who took.I cannot be bitter.no.I 

embrace peace.he will not suck Demeter dry, I will not fawn;I am knight but seek no more darkness —I am the dawn to all darkness

And I kick these walls to say fuck you ….

and pace

I’ve been through so much hell you will never know 

***

….and if you dare to see me 

if you dare ….

but no

you would know that I am true ….

•••

would ~you~ dare ?

to—come into my opera?

Unconditional terms

Jörn walks to the window and looks out because I have just said those words aloud 

He stands by the window with his arms folded. Then turns his head to look at me,

“you say you believe in unconditional love? What if I did something —that went against yours?”

I can see the elephant

 in the room 

or in the very least, say why

I wanted to be wrong that he was lying

 stretch out your arms like wings and run and fly with the wind 

 with all the heaviness torn away with the imploded empty cavern it carved 

I am too light 

     I feel myself blowing away 

…,”

apocalyptic hollow

It is such a hollow epiphany….

like finding the grave of your best friend. The emotions twofold….”

it is the scent of boss that takes me to another chapter of Jörn and me. I put my face into his arm pit so as to feign something else than let on ….

 

“I wanted to apologize for being such a beast to you,” Jörn now says to me 

Electra’s dictionary & film noir; the slip on the skirted issue (s)(direction)

 

And it is when I had doubled back to the kitchens 

And so I fell against the wall into a swoon and looked around as—somehow ….

   it was as if I was somewhere else entirely 

….like …. some other time —and I don’t know why ….like jumping off a lift while it is in motion 

I catch my breath …. 

time is only measured in this dimension 

did you know that? it is only because of the plain fact that in this dimension, beings expire because they are organic here 

It is important what we do with our time ….it’s not meant as a joyride and I know most don’t get that 

So I lean against the brick wall of the kitchens and notice a slip of paper on the floor folded in half. I pick it up. 

In her neat familiar handwriting I see my name written —it is a note to me from Ilya ….it must have fallen from the counter and was forgotten about ….so I read ….it seems she thought to give the note to her fiancé to send to me as she lost my private number; as I realize she had made plans to go away; that would have been interrupted by her suddenly going into labor. 

So….I read on—she was asking if I might hire someone temporarily to take care of the museum artifacts and tours as well as the upkeep of the penthouse but….

and then 

I think of another message that recently I have received ….I write about purpose, gender and identity ….and the struggles of ….painful familiar relationships 

in that flash when I felt the weird wind tunnel rush of time I ….had a kind of moment of total clarity ….of course I must be here as it is time to become fully myself 

“Are you all right?” 

I look up and see that Jörn has come back and see by how he looks at me how I am leaned up against the wall 

“Jörn….” I say and look up at him

 I woke up

it is a moment. like coming to. when you realize you are no longer dreaming. but you have not been asleep 

Le chat noir

 

yes I have been the damsel in distress 

more often than I’d have liked but who were my heroes? 

~they were me~

I want to feel the sun on my face and see the sign “LIE NY” 

nothing comes in nothing goes out I am me I am mine 

♾️

what a tightrope we walk along 

Electra’s dictionary; book of days

 

Book of days 

 I lost myself, where am i …..flip back the pages —ti how far back ….? when did we start running? —at go

At go ….I remember going to Disney world with my grandmother and my mother so soon before my grandmother passed away ….it is strange how you can remember a moment from long ago ….I sat in the mad tea cup ride with her and we spun and spun —she was fun, very young even when she was no longer chronologically ….we are in my family ….well. they were

with my mother we went on the Grand Prix race there; I was terrified —she would say “green light to go! Zoom!”

I liked the submarine ride ….

How is this about purpose?

Believe me it is

I remember exact seconds of my life ….like my exact thoughts on a hike I took in Oregon ….looking down at my boot ….I remember the dry and forlorn horizon that was so barren of life and atmosphere and ….this moment I had was ….oh shit, what am I doing here? how will I ever get out of here ….?

shit. fuck ….

if purpose means to ask why we repeat our mistakes ….

then it means we better get the lesson already 

and then —apply it to where it was meant to ….bring you; raise you….lift you to the next plain 

I write my book of days 

    as drama …. but it is really meant ….

as something more about the purpose of all human experience —I am just the example at hand 

 

dictionary, 

he does not understand that I am actually the one person —who knows what it feels like what he is going through 

 

and so, what matters…. 

  what ….white walls ….I detest them

I don’t know why I pick this to write about if only to avoid my mind from thinking anymore — I hate white walls. nothing should be so devoid of pigment so as to enforce such a robotic view on any living thing…. they should not exist. except in museums —if it seems appropriate as ….anyway—I remember staring at the walls at my Bard college dorm room after the assault and noticing how many layers of different color paint I saw peeling off…. like being in a padded cell; no longer any corners as they became rounded with coated paint

but no, my stoic celves in our cell, this does not matter ….it’s just distraction 

 I whet my sword 

 

stepping in from outside it was warm.but the warmth seemed to only make more apparent the sentinel coldness that was inside

 ….with its ever-hungry threat to devour in a blink 

the tint of rose in my glasses

Talent Oregon 2017 (but not that I found)

(2019)my best takeaway image of the Adirondaks 

 

more retrospective in photos

with Chris when we first started dating (I dyed my hair black soon after my mother died as some infantile form of rebellion to handle my grief because I was angry at her for dying)

the last picture Chris took of me 

retrospective in retina memory shots

Upstate NY, the best of in photos 

 

my time at Vanderbilt 

Mohonk Resort where Stephen King is a regular(above and below)

 but do you understand? 

you see….I draw a line from the —projection of bastard—as from the electro-vibrational magnetic fields that people shoot at those with a mean and passionate energy—

when it is a film you are used to feeling like a slime all over your skin

 ….you start to make it work for you 

slimy and slithering and so you adapt, like Darwin said and start to realize quick that that loathsome, accusatory energy so directed is only feeding off their own secret and most hidden darkness within themself 

The day I laughed at the man I believed was my father —as he was belting me—I made a conscious decision that day; I decided to personify his own worst demon, because I could see it in his ugly, odious eyes

I was terrified. but I did it anyway. I decided that laughing was better than letting him see me cry and decided he never would again. So I laughed and laughed and laughed.

 I can turn off pain. he taught me how and I learned how people get afraid when they think you are fearless 

E.d.Noir/kitchen scene conclusion

 

“What is going on here?” 

It is Jörn in the doorway of the kitchen looking at us.

I stare frozen at him. Why do I feel guilty? I have done nothing wrong. And whatever I’ve done he will find out anyway from Andreas. Still, I feel guilty. Why do I always feel guilty ….for protecting myself….

but —now I stare at him; something about the grey in the shirt he wears and—I don’t know what comes over me. I foolishly have to catch myself on the back of the chair for losing my balance….and hide the way I catch my breath for how he looks ….and in what he wears; skin tight henley, shoulders and muscles…. and looking up, into his eyes and face …..of which I know every line and crease of —as if I put it all there myself ….how still he does this to me….and then 

I am caught and then lost within those eyes of kryptonite

Yet with not much ceremony, he takes hold of my wrist, gives bolts of lightening with his gaze at Andreas and says, 

“coming then?” with his vocal pitch aimed at me, and with a yank, pulls me out the door with him

be in that patch of blue sky 

today the sun shines pretty 

once upon a time the world was flat until one supposed it wasn’t 

 oh no it’s just fiction dear 

it is that mirage of Agamemnon ….we cannot ever reach it, it will always disappear ….

 

Another keyhole anonymous diary 

About Electra ….

a child does not know the meaning of the word bastard, but the child knows what it feels like to be 

from the moment the child comes into the world and is handled 

the child feels what it means to be bastard 

it does not show to an otherwise world 

once you leave their nebula —but the stain has not only embedded itself, but with it, the years of toxic abusive actions have altogether set the pattern of the weave in the outcome of fortune 

it does not matter the lineage but —how was it the black maid put it that day on the bus as they gossiped about their reverend looking at me, 

“she born on da wrong side of da blanket, dat child, dat’s whad I got to say about dat, mmm-mmm….sweet Jesus….an’ a reverend’s bastard! sweet Jesus amen, mmm-mmm!”

the poisonous stares ….they sting like a wasp ….”now, never mind them, miss,” Annie says and reaches to comfort with a gentle pat, “our’s is the next stop miss, you gets to meet my sonny, ain’t dat a nice surprise?”

because, again, nobody remembered ….to get her

 dear celves, we are not safe

from my script notes

 Another scene (pasted straight from notes) (unedited)

   this goes respectively before Elan’s demise 

More Script notes  

Film Noir

Open to an ominous overcast and darkened scene of the beach, the waves crashing with 

The dog is barking 

We go into the hut, enter through the window and see Elan is sat hiding under the table with the bowls, she is huddled in fear and her arms are wrapped around herself as she presses her face into one of the hides, breathing in the familiar scent that still clings to the fibers 

Elan: (whispers) Raoul …. snälla kom hem…. dewch adref [she weeps into the hide]

[the dog comes to comfort her]

The angle moves outside side the hut to the settlement thst is wracked with the storm 

But from the shadows we see Ulf, at first in shadow as he ‘walks’ past an isle between the long houses —he uses a wood stick to hobble awkwardly along, and in the wind, it is clear that only a mad berserk Viking bent on revenge would drag himself for this opportunity 

And as he clears the shadows we see he swings an ax

The lighting is strange 

It is the time of year when the sun does not long go down and as it is what would be the middle of the night the sun has already begun to rise but the storm throws an eerie light with the clouds 

From above the settlement we watch as Ulf crosses to close the distsnce to the hut

Move to inside of hut, close up of Vargi

Vargi: [growls looking up]

Elan: [now reacts to dog and sits up to listen fearfully. She is whispering:] Raoul…. dewch os gwelwch yn dda….[she is whimpering quietly, she is clearly terrified]

Ulf: [shouting in a call near the hut as he approaches] du kan inte gömma dig för mig nu (you cannot hide from me now)

Vargi growls 

Elan gets up and goes to Raoul’s work area. She picks up a wooden shield and a small knife, and a bludgeoning instrument from his work shop; but she is clearly trembling 

Ulf: komma ut!

Elan [gasps] [whispers:] Vargi! 

She slips through an under slot beneath Raoul’s workshop; there is an opening hidden behind a shrub and she hides beneath the shrubs in the muddy, sandy, earth and makes the sound of one who tries to hold back her own whimpering 

We hear the dog barking

Fade out

Fade in 

To same scene, same shot that must be hours later. The storm passed but we see she is exhausted from fear by the way her profile is turned as she stares at nothing and in shock; half asleep in the sand

Pull back

The dog is dead several feet away 

But Elan is still hidden where she is. She does not move 

Fade out

Open same scene and sunny day again

Elan still hidden where she is. It seems as if she is dead 

Pull back to another dog who is seen sniffing nearby and Ulf not far behind hobbling along 

The dog finds Elan’s hiding spot as he clamps with his teeth through her shawl

Elan: 

[With sudden strength born of terror] uses the shield she has been laying on to bash over the dogs head ]

Then goes back into the hut, not knowing where to go

Instinctively goes to the workshop and picks up the biggest sword lying around as she stands watching st the hut door 

We hear the scrape of Ulf’s hobble and stick as the sound approaches 

  

dawn from darkness

it is now one year later. 

it feels time to leave the chrysalis. the fortress is no more. and now realize,that this has been the anxiety ….reach,open the jar, climb out—the path is opening 

a globe theatre

 

He is always watching the ‘board’, it is always in view but it is he who is always watching. and when no one seems able to find him, I know he sits among the clouds. 

It is a lovely view when you look out from the spot he likes best to go; the ground has softened and curved to habit. 

There is a dome of mist that frames the view, a thickening to clouds. 

To look out at it, it seems like an abstract painting that is always in motion with silver lights that twinkle and sparkle like opals and diamonds with shocks of bolts and often fire but from here it seems very very far far far away 

I have so often sat there next to him. It is the most natural place to be. Sometimes in silence. Sometimes in shared thoughts. In his presence we are all children 

exposure to cultures is my breath 

& realize 

my purpose 

  darkness evaporates when you let in light 

the warrior gypsy celf’s skin

it seems I am drawn more and more back to New York