2016, Caffe Trieste

 

Damn it, Daily OM

Worry is an extension of fear, and can also set you up for attracting that which you don't want in your life.

We have all had the experience of worrying about something at some point in our lives. Some of us have a habitual tendency to worry, and all of us have known someone who is a chronic worrier. Worry is an extension of fear and can be a very draining experience. In order for worry to exist, we have to imagine that something bad might happen. What we are worrying about has not happened yet, however, so this bad thing is by definition a fantasy. Understood this way, worry is a self-created state of needless fear. Still, most of us worry. 

One reason we worry is because we feel like we're not in control. For example, you might worry about your loved ones driving home in bad weather. There is nothing you can do to guarantee their safe passage, but you worry until you find out they have reached their destination unharmed. In this instance, worry is an attempt to feel useful and in control. However, worrying does nothing to ensure a positive outcome and it has an unpleasant effect on your body, mind, and spirit. The good news is that there are ways to transform this kind of worry so that it has a healing effect. Just as worry uses the imagination, so does the antidote to worry. Next time you find that you are worrying, imagine the best result instead of anticipating the worst outcome. Visualize your loved ones' path bathed in white light and clearly see in your mind's eye their safe arrival. Imagine angels or guides watching over them as they make their way home. Generate peace and well-being instead of nervousness and unease within yourself. 

Another reason we worry is that something that we know is pending but are avoiding is nagging us -- an unpaid parking ticket, an upcoming test, an issue with a friend. In these cases, acknowledging that we are worried and taking action is the best solution. If you can confront the situation and own your power to change it, you'll have no reason to worry. 

Tahoe

 

Lauren

She said, "I would totally fuck you." This was more than 10 years ago. Adam didn't understand it wasn't a joke. I did. I felt ugly and fat and unconfident and unable to hang onto my emotions, so instead I spilled them all over the floor.

Bitch, I could take you today. 

Today's writing

He raises his head, looks at me. In this moment I notice the fine lines around his eyes, the strong set of his mouth. He looks older, worn, tired, but also strong and resolute.

 

“Kel,” he says, then uses words that make no sense, that I don’t understand. It’s like he’s studied goddamned Swahili and is deploying it on me. This isn’t English. This couldn’t possibly be English. This couldn’t be anything that has any bearing on my current reality, because it makes no frigging sense.

 

Cheated. He cheated.  

 

He cheated with her. With her.

 

He drops all the expected verbiage – it just happened, he wasn’t planning it; he’s so goddamned sorry. At one point he tries to tell me how they didn’t actually fuck and I want so hard to belt him across his disgusting damned lying mouth.

 

“No,” I say in a voice at first is no more than a wisp of breath. “I don’t have to listen to this shit. I definitely don’t have to believe you. I most certainly do not need to expend energy acting like I give a good goddamn about the basics of how you betrayed me. Just knowing that you did is enough. It’s too much, actually.”

Today's writing

I picture my mother and Friskie growing up together just outside Jeff City, which to them was the big metropolis, and I wonder what that must have been like. I didn’t know my grandparents on my mom’s side at all. They’re dead now. “You don’t want to have known them,” Friskie likes to say. “They’re roasting on the right spit, all I gotta say about the matter.”

 

But there’s this moment – this yawning deep vertical cavern of an emotion that spikes far inside me and rousts out everything I don’t want to feel – where I wish, just that heartbeat of desire, the longing for her to be some sort of mother to me. Just in that moment, though if I’m honest about it, it of course isn’t just this moment. Friskie’s the closest thing I have to a mother. Times I’ve wanted to rely on her, to soak her Guns ‘n’ Roses t-shirt with tears. But of course you get close enough to do that and you realize what’s floating in the waters of her, the toxic gunk, the regrets.

Oh, Berkeley

There's a PTA ice cream social coming up today. Marcus and I are riffing on the kinds of treats available: Rainbow Diversity flavor, the It Takes All Kinds Sundae, the Outrage Ice Cream Sandwich, the When Life Gives You Lemons Make Lemonade Granita. A full platter. 

Random memory

I once dated an investment banker. (Shocker, yes.) I liked to tease him about the money he made. He once said to me: "Allison, how do you know I'm not in debt up to my eyeballs?"

Good point. 

Today's writing

She blinks hard. I don’t see tears but part of me wants them. Something in me wants to hurt her, to open her up, to watch her disintegrate before me. That’s the part of love they don’t talk about: the cruelty, the evil wishes. The chance that you can always be ditched, dropped, deserted; that you can find yourself as yesterday’s news. The fear, the terror. Embedded, baked-in, endemic.

Just texted to me

 

The Nexus office

1994, or maybe it was 1995. Night editing, a joint passed. Line tape. VDTs shimmering as night air filtered in. This song playing, playing, playing. 

Today's writing

That always scared the shit out of me – the idea that you didn’t understand yourself as well as you’d like. Self-examination wasn’t exactly the calm, clear gaze of a 5-year-old who’d found fascination. More often it was simply terror.

 

“I guess I just don’t understand the draw. You know?”

 

And then I knew. I did.

 

Spin it. That’s what they tell you in advertising, in marketing, yes, in journalism. Take that baby by the tip and spin til it twirled.

 

“I don’t get your draw to her, Kel. She’s just some hotel worker. You know?”

 

The ugly part of me, coming out hard. Spin it back. The only way to soothe yourself.

Michael Penn, "No Myth"

What if I were Romeo in black jeans

What if I was Heathcliff -- it's no myth

Maybe she's just looking for

Someone to dance with

Dear God

It's rare to love someone so much it physically hurts. That's how I feel about Baz. 

Gr

I thought I was done with the fucking COVID testing. Apparently not. There was a positive test at John Muir Elementary, where Baz goes to school, and I'm not feeling great today. Wear. A. Fucking. Mask.

Lip Service West, 2016

 

Madonna, "Live to Tell"

 I have a tale to tell

Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well
I was not ready for the fall
Too blind to see the writing on the wall

A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell
The secret I have learned, 'til then
It will burn inside of me

I know where beauty lives
I've seen it once, I know the warm she gives
The light that you could never see
It shines inside, you can't take that from me

A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell
The secret I have learned, 'til then
It will burn inside of me

The truth is never far behind
You kept it hidden well
If I live to tell
The secret I knew then
Will I ever have the chance again

If I ran away, I'd never have the strength
To go very far
How would they hear the beating of my heart
Will it grow cold
The secret that I hide, will I grow old
How will they hear
When will they learn
How will they know

A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell
The secret I have learned, 'til then
It will burn inside of me

The truth is never far behind
You kept it hidden well
If I live to tell
The secret I knew then
Will I ever have the chance again

A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell
The secret I have learned, 'til then
It will burn inside of me

Today's writing

I sat in the café and watched. Watched, watched. The old woman staring into space, ignoring her steaming drink. The guy on the cell phone, dialed into the screen rather than the daughter sitting next to him. The laptop warriors leaning into their LCDs. Did anyone pay attention anymore? Was anyone connected to what was around them rather than what things could be? Then again, was I any different?

 

“Hey,” Danny says now, “Kelly.”

 

I startle into awareness.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“First off, we have the fact that you invited a stranger into our cabin without even asking me. I mean, what the hell is that all about, Kel? Second, you’re staring into space and not even answering when I call your name like 20 times. Third, you’re not usually spacey and you hate strangers, so what’s going on here?”

 

“It’s just – I mean –”

 

What is going on with me?

 

“You know what? I miss your mom.”

 

There is truth there. Enough to where I’m not guilty saying it. Truth there, but not total truth. Does any of us actually tell that? The truth is hard to buy. It’s even harder to sell. You can take it in trade, but even then there is something lacking.

An old favorite

Well, life on the farm is kind of laid back

Ain't much an old country boy like me can't hack

Early to rise, early in the sack

Thank God I'm a country boy

- John Denver

Quoted

Here. 

Burnout

I love what I do -- and it's preventing me from doing the work I most want to do, which is of course writing. I have to find some balance. Right now I feel totally fuzzy-brained and exhausted. Not okay.

Lunch

Fancy Japanese restaurant. Just the two of us. Ramen. Hot chicken. A chance to reconnect. Opportunities that present themselves. Take them or not?

Today's writing

St. Orres holds still in the silence. Even the trees seem in on the action. All I hear is the ocean across the street. Does its presence mean that we are safe? That the buck stops here along with the land mass? I mean, it can burn as far as it can burn, but once it reaches the Pacific, then what? Isn’t that the end of it?

Of course, St. Orres could be gone by then. I know this. I’m not stupid. What would that be like? This place wiped out by nature, that nanny who watches over us all?

Morning 1978

If you're thinkin' you're too cool to boogie

Boy oh boy have I got news for you

Everybody here tonight must boogie

You are no exception to the rule

10 years ago

 

Rachel Kushner, "The Hard Crowd"

Mira, who had been transferred from her wheelchair to the couch, sat and fidgeted. She understood no English but was forced to quietly pretend she was listening. I kept smiling at her, and she smiled back. I was desperate to give her something, to promise something. It's very difficult to see a child who has suffered so tremendously. It's basically unbearable. I should give her the ring I was wearing, I thought. But then I saw that it would never fit her fingers, which were very swollen and large despite her young age; her development, after the fire, was thwarted because her bones could not properly grow. I'd give her my earrings, was my next idea, and then I realized that her ears had been burned off in the fire. I felt obscene. I sat and smiled as if my oversized teeth could beam a protective fiction over this poor child, blind in both to truth, that no shallow gesture or petty generosity would make any lasting difference, and that her life was going to be difficult.

- From "We Are Orphans Here"

Old friends

Saw my friend Brett Vargo for the first time tonight in three decades. The years just rolled back. So awesome.

Everyone's therapist

I used to have a couch and an ear for everyone. Everyone's problems were more important than mine. Thank God I've moved past that bullshit. 

Lisa Loeb, "Stay"

You said you call me cause you want me

And one day you let me go 

You tried to give away a keeper

Or keep me cause you know you're just so scared to lose

Kindergarten

 

God knows if this makes sense

Is it possible that Kelly knows what happened?

No. No. Three times no. There is no way she can possibly know. I mean, maybe she senses something on me. That’s definitely possible. When you know someone, you know when they may have been up to something out of the ordinary. You can sense something going on. It’s like something under the skin, something moving, crawling, growing stronger and heftier. It’s something that wants what it wants, despite the best of intentions surrounding it. Despite the rules. Despite the you shouldn’t, the these are the boundaries. It doesn’t subscribe to boundaries. It doesn’t believe in rules. It doesn’t hew to what you should or should not do. It is its own hunger, its own seeking of satiation.

What is it about this place that makes me want to cry? Not just a few tears either. No, the sobbing. The wailing. The guts-out show of emotion that you don’t want many people – maybe anyone – see. The soft underbelly of the person we know ourselves to be. That tender, weak spot.

 

Today's writing

Well, shit. Way to give me a heart attack. I mean, I don’t know this girl at all. I do and I don’t, really. I know what the inside of her mouth tastes like, the way her body presses against yours. I know what she sounds like when she moans and yet by most common standards I don’t know her at all.

 

I certainly don’t know what she’s capable of. If she’s vengeful, if she’s vituperative. For all I know she’s planning some sort of verbal attack right here, right now. But all she seems to be doing is handing us a piece of paper.

 

“So,” Kelly says, “we’re not being evacuated yet?”

 

“It hasn’t gotten bad enough. It may not get bad enough. We just don’t know yet. Like the letter says, if you want to leave, you’ll get your money refunded. We just wanted to let you know that we’re here and we’re happy to work with you whatever your situation is.”

 

She’s talking to Kelly, not even looking at me at all. Well, that’s good. Don’t look at me. Don’t acknowledge me. Most of all, don’t make me explain anything. Anything.

Return the goddamned text

I mean, how hard is it?

Watching my kid fall asleep

Blinking, eyes beginning to roll back. Like a particularly amazing sunset.

I don't know what to tell you

Sometimes I think I've spun out all the stories. Then I think about all the things I'll never tell you. That's a longer list. 

Tired

Life feels like a hamster wheel. Baz goes back to school Monday. I think that will help. Maybe. 

Caffe Reggio, 2019

 

Random memory

Like your high school probably did, mine had peer counselors. I wanted to be one. And I could never get accepted in. Thirty years later that still bites my ass. 

This

So much this.

Fiona Apple, "Shadowboxer"

Oh, you creep up the like the cloud
And you set my soul at ease
Then you let your love abound
And you bring me to my knees

Diagnosis

This week Baz was officially diagnosed with autism and likely ADHD. I don't know how I feel about it all. Or maybe I do, but am not able to write about it yet. I know my feelings, once expressed, are not going to make me sound like Mother of the Fucking Year. 

Facebook Memories

2003. Such damn babies.

2017. Cheers to Marcus.

2015. Self-explanatory.

2014. 

2011. I'm seeing a theme.

2009. Definite theme.

Random NYC memory

Battery Park City. Wind and silence. So much silence.

Six years ago

My surprise baby shower! Left to right: Adam, Maya, Sean, Kristen, Pi Wen, and Marcus. 

Today's writing

Twitchy, cautious pause. I often accused Adam of sticking to small talk, of having little of substance to say. It’s no surprise he bristled at this bullshit. Who the hell wants to be told they’re shallow, that they have nothing to contribute? And yet there were those days when I looked off into the distance and wondered – was there more? Somewhere? Was it mine to have? Even to dream of?

 

What was I not experiencing? What did I want that I had yet to find? I was in an ostensibly happy marriage with a loyal man who would fling himself from the highest rooftop upon my request. A beautiful, loving child. Two batshit dogs. More friends than I could text in a single day. What the fuck did I want?

 

“But,” I said, “I like you for the fact that you don’t go over that shit. You know?”

 

Fact was, it was true, to a degree at least. People who spent too much time in their heads were worrisome. What were they turning over in their minds? What was the calculus behind their eyes? Most of all, what were they thinking about me?

 

I used to knock Adam for looking at other women. That was in my jealous days, the envy times. What did he think when he saw them? What did he wonder about? These days I pretty much didn’t give a fuck. Let him look. Like I didn’t?

 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

 

After we hung up, I tried to figure out what the hell to do in King City. I’d been here on a handful of occasions, mostly involving the procurement of fuel on the way to and from Southern California. It felt like one of those towns whose hard edges were also boring, which made them so much worse. Petty – and sometimes not-so-petty – crime. Pregnant teenagers. More than anything, the lack of motivation – if not desire – to exist elsewhere.

 

Suddenly I felt lonely, so fucking lonely.