It me

 

This morning's writing

He takes me by the forearms, starts to press me back into the bedroom. Ow. My ankle is still throbbing. His eyes tell me that he’s sorry. I loop my arm around his neck and he half-walks, half-carries me. A few steps take us from the deck to the back of the cabin. No need to close the door. No need for faux privacy. He sits me down on the bed. It’s awkward. He lifts my leg closer to him, rubs my flesh. Part of me wants to kiss him. Part of me wants to hit him. I come close to the latter, but in the end I lean forward.

 

Somewhere along the way we get frenzied, too much so to pull down the covers. His teeth are in my neck, my hand running along his abdomen. When he slips a finger inside me I groan, an animal sound that seems to come from somewhere deeper. It’s about wanting something, but I’m not even sure what.

Joyce

Joyce Maynard is a mentor. She has been since we met at a workshop at her Mill Valley house in 2005. As our lives have continued to take us down the road, Joyce has been a consistent source of support and encouragement. I just wanted to shout out to her here. Joyce, you rock!

Tahoe, a decade ago

 

Hard truth

For the most part, people don't change. You can want it. You can wish for it. But ultimately you either accept them as they are or move on. 

Letter to BUSD summer-school principal

What I really wanted to say is that the program is ridiculously disorganized and the teacher is MIA, but maybe I did say it in other words. 

Our child is in Ms. Valdez's TK class. We have never met her apart from a single email. Every day I drop my child off at school entrusting him to your care, but this morning I did not feel good about that. The structure of this school feels very loose and not well organized. I would like to know where my son is going, to whom I am entrusting him, and even (I don't think this is asking too much) a little of what he does every day while he is there. This is more than simple child care. This is academics.

Thank you for your attention.

Allison Landa

Mother of Baz Sandler

Today's writing

Damian. Let’s just talk about Damian for a minute. Gray eyes and that smile. Oh God, that smile. A crooked thing, demon and angel all wrapped up into one. Dimple in the chin. Hair that looked good messy. Hands that knew how to work, to make me forget that he belonged to someone else. I tried to convince myself that he belonged to no one but himself, that he made the choices he made, that there was no reason for guilt. Tried to convince myself and failed roundly. There was Joyce. There would always be Joyce. Even if he left her right then and damn there, there would always be her memory, always be the fact that she came first. She held his hand first, kissed him first. He made love to her before he ever made love to me.

Me, I was that dog at the shelter, waiting. Waiting for someone to come for me. Behind bars, watching. Who would unlock the cage, take me with them? Who would give me a home? Who would feed me, shelter me, care for me?

Joni Mitchell, "River"

Oh man. I haven't listened, really listened, to this song for some time. I'm so hard to handle, I'm selfish and I'm sad, now I done lost the best baby that I ever had ...

Holy shit. That could have been me.

50th anniversary

Joni Mitchell, "Blue." Of course, my favorite will always be "The Last Time I Saw Richard." That one sears me, and with good reason. 

The Cure, "Pictures of You"

Remembering you falling into my arms, crying for the death of your heart
You were stone white, so delicate, lost in the cold
You were always so lost in the dark

Point Arena, 2019

 

Random

Don't ever expect someone to change when they have no interest in doing so. How can you tell they have no interest? Because they do the same shit over and over again and you react to it over and over again. Stop that shit.

Barenaked Ladies, "Light Up My Room"

 A Hydro-field cuts through my neighborhood

Somehow that always just made me feel good
I can put a spare bulb in my hand
And light up my yard

Late at night when the wires in the walls
Sing in tune with the din of the falls
I'm conducting it all while I sleep
To light this whole town

If you question what I would do
To get over and be with you
Lift you up over everything
To light up my room

There's a shopping cart in the ravine
The foam on the creek is like pop and ice cream
A field full of tires that is always on fire
To light my way home

There are luxuries we can't afford
But in our house we never get bored
'Cause can dance to the radio station
That plays in our teeth

If you question what I would do
To get over and be with you
Lift you up over everything
To light up my room, my room

A Hydro-field cuts through my neighborhood
Somehow that always just made me feel good
I can put a spare bulb in my hand
And light up my yard

Light up my yard
Lights in my yard
Light up my yard

Another early-morning tidbit

There are people you can't get over and people who can't get over you. Rarely do those align. Sorry to report, but it's true. 

Truth

Writing well is the best goddamned revenge.

OMG my heart

 

Today's writing

“No shit.” Danny is watching me, his jaw seemingly suspended half-open.

 

“Oh, come on. Like you couldn’t have predicted it.”

 

“Did you?”

 

In Berkeley there is a restaurant called Revival. Upscale place. We’ve been. It’s good. When the pandemic started, a mural went up on one of its outside walls: “We do this together,” it reads. Feel-good sentiment made to sell fancy food. The rest of us look warily at each other over our masks: for God’s sake, don’t breathe in my direction.

 

This moment kind of feels like that: one trying to drag the other into a story. I’m not having it. “Actually,” I say, “no.”

 

I looked good pregnant

 

Father's Day cometh

 

Therapy

I feel good afterward. I almost always do. Even when I feel tired, I still feel good. Today is no exception. We talked about being seen, safety, hiding, vulnerability. Vulnerability is not my strong suit. It's something to work on.

Oingo Boingo, "Just Another Day"

Every time I hear Boingo, I think of Adam. I think of him as a kid, with his high-school sweetheart, seeing Boingo at their farewell concert. Was it at Universal Ampitheatre? Does it matter? What matters is his eyes were blue, blue then as today, always.

It's just another day
When people wake from dreams
With voices in their ears
That will not go away ...

But there's a smile on my face

For everyone

There's a golden coin

That reflects the sun

There's a lonely place

That's always cold

There's a place in the stars

For when you get old

The Dalai Lama on suffering

How you perceive life as a whole plays a role in your attitude to suffering. If you see suffering as negative and to be avoided at all costs and in some sense as a sign of failure, this will add a sense of anxiety and intolerance when you encounter difficult circumstances, a feeling of being overwhelmed. But if you accept that suffering is a natural part of existence, this will help you withstand life’s adversities.

Iggy Pop with Kate Pierson, "Candy"

I've had a hole in my heart for so long
I've learned to fake it and just smile along

Oh, there's some anger behind this

Thing is, he knew I was coming. That’s what I will remind myself of later, down the line, when I’m lying on the couch wondering just how much aspirin will do the trick. Erase the pain, erase life, what the hell is the difference? I mean, I should have seen this thing for what it was. Should have understood it as a farce just intended to get his sorry ass laid.

 

But again: he knew. You’d think that would have made a difference. Maybe it did. That’s the worst part. Maybe what I saw what exactly what he intended for me to see.

Collective Soul, "Shine"

My memory of this song: pulling into the driveway of the Poway house, my brother and his friend Tim shooting hoops. The weird blue of the sky, maybe a fire somewhere, always a fire. Feeling of youth, something that we believed would last forever. 

Why I don't truck with narcissists

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Today's writing

Outside he led me onto a quiet, tree-lined side street. Rockridge was as Rockridge always was: bustling yet respectfully muted, a place of suits and strollers. When he kissed me it was harder than usual, quiet, probing. His tongue seeking answers. His hands in my hair. When we pulled away we looked at one another: Jesus Christ our eyes said.

 

“Let’s go,” he said. He was always the one to initiate. I wasn’t sure how to do it. I couldn’t get over that barrier of imposter syndrome, the fear of rejection. Even after we’d hooked up for the first time, the second, the fifth. Always the hesitation, the wariness. Like nothing could prove to me that he liked me that way, that he wanted a relationship. In my defense, he showed no indication of wanting to be my boyfriend. We were friends with benefits. We never spent a whole weekend day together, browsing neighborhoods with our hands locked. Him kissing me on this street was the most public expression our passion had ever found.

 

“Wait,” I said. He raised his eyebrows, took my hand, pressed it to his jeans. He was hard. I knew he would be.

We all do it

I pride myself on being straightforward, honest, candid. But I lie as much as anyone else. Why do we hide what we really believe, how we really feel? What is so scary about the truth?

Today's writing

We slept together the night before he left. I wasn’t sure it was going to happen until it did. He came over to the East Bay. I took him to dinner at Zachary’s. “Best pizza in the world,” I said. “You’re not going to get anything like this down there.”

 

“You say the word there like it’s a curse.”

 

I concentrated on cutting my piece of spinach and mushroom pie. All around us people laughed, tucked into their own pizzas, sucked on the lollipops they gave you when you paid the check. Were any of them on their own cusp of loss?

Beatles sing-a-long, June 2016

 

June 2016

 

Tellus Coffee, Walnut Creek

 

And while Mom and Dad were at the strip club ...

 Little Bazzy was charming his preschool. See the bow tie on his shirt?

Four years ago, the Gold Club

 

Adapted from a Facebook post

I was 25 the first time I seriously considered suicide. I lay on the couch doing nothing about it for a while. Then I decided I needed to act. Jerry Springer was going to kill me, but I'd just basically die of boredom and creative futility if I watched enough of it. I needed to do something.

So I went across the street to Piedmont Grocery and started comparison-shopping. Damn, aspirin wasn't cheap. What the fuck?

Then I realized that if I was comparison-shopping, maybe I wanted to live.

A good reminder

 ANTHONY HOPKINS

′′Let go the people who are not prepared to love you. This is the hardest thing you will have to do in your life and it will also be the most important thing. Stop having hard conversations with people who don't want change.

Stop showing up for people who have no interest in your presence. I know your instinct is to do everything to earn the appreciation of those around you, but it's a boost that steals your time, energy, mental and physical health.

When you begin to fight for a life with joy, interest and commitment, not everyone will be ready to follow you in this place. This doesn't mean you need to change what you are, it means you should let go of the people who aren't ready to accompany you.

If you are excluded, insulted, forgotten or ignored by the people you give your time to, you don't do yourself a favor by continuing to offer your energy and your life. The truth is that you are not for everyone and not everyone is for you.

That's what makes it so special when you meet people who reciprocate love. You will know how precious you are.

The more time you spend trying to make yourself loved by someone who is unable to, the more time you waste depriving yourself of the possibility of this connection to someone else.

There are billions of people on this planet and many of them will meet with you at your level of interest and commitment.

The more you stay involved with people who use you as a pillow, a background option or a therapist for emotional healing, the longer you stay away from the community you want.

Maybe if you stop showing up, you won't be wanted. Maybe if you stop trying, the relationship will end. Maybe if you stop texting your phone will stay dark for weeks. That doesn't mean you ruined the relationship, it means the only thing holding it back was the energy that only you gave to keep it. This is not love, it's attachment. It's wanting to give a chance to those who don't deserve it. You deserve so much, there are people who should not be in your life.

The most valuable thing you have in your life is your time and energy, and both are limited. When you give your time and energy, it will define your existence.

When you realize this, you begin to understand why you are so anxious when you spend time with people, in activities, places or situations that don't suit you and shouldn't be around you, your energy is stolen.

You will begin to realize that the most important thing you can do for yourself and for everyone around you is to protect your energy more fiercely than anything else. Make your life a safe haven, in which only ′′compatible′′ people are allowed.

You are not responsible for saving anyone. You are not responsible for convincing them to improve. It's not your work to exist for people and give your life to them! If you feel bad, if you feel compelled, you will be the root of all your problems, fearing that they will not return the favours you have granted. It's your only obligation to realize that you are the love of your destiny and accept the love you deserve.

Decide that you deserve true friendship, commitment, true and complete love with healthy and prosperous people. Then wait and see how much everything begins to change. Don't waste time with people who are not worth it. Change will give you the love, the esteem, happiness and the protection you deserve."

Sacramento

 

Last night

We fought. Over something stupid, but not. It wasn't stupid. I'm not sure why I would even say it was. 

I left. 

I went to Yogurt Park.

I texted Marcus.

I ate cookie-dough toppings savagely.

It helped. 

He's so goddamned adorable

 

This still makes me laugh

 

Birdhouse in Your Soul

I'm up stupid early listening to They Might Be Giants. Adam loaned me his Flood CD when I went to Vancouver for AWP in ... oh my God, 2005. We had just started dating and man, it was a bit rough. I walked around the city listening to this song, thinking we'll be lucky if we make it to May. 

God, I loved him. Not that I don't still, of course, but this was a different love, desperate in its way. We didn't talk the entire week I was in Canada. Actually, that's not true. I called him up, all pissed off along international phone lines. "All you needed to do was call me," he said.

I humphed.

He lived in Alameda then, and I in Oakland. We spent the night at each other's places, but didn't spend entire weekends together. We were too new then, too fresh and too delicate in our way. So much tentative love. So much passion. 

This is fucked up

My mother and aunt used to play a game with us: my mother would supposedly turn into Mean Mommy Evelyn, while my aunt would become Mean Auntie Vera. We would cry and freak out and beg them to turn back into the people we knew. Sometimes they listened. Often they didn't.

Somewhere in here is a lesson.

Truth

 

Two FB messages

can i just say that i am so inspired by how hard you work at your craft?

you are incredible.

Sarah sent Today at 4:51 PM

I just know you are getting to get the publisher you deserve

I wanted to say this to only you, just in case your peeps think I'm a crazy old lady, as long as I have know you I have always had 100% faith in you. I watched you grow and succeed in many things. I won't bring up the times I listened to your 4way Rotary speech. I did love all the chutzpah you put into it. ... I love watching you grow more on Facebook and reading what you say. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

Tori Amos, "Spark"

She's addicted to nicotine patches
She's addicted to nicotine patches
She's afraid of the light in the dark ...