churn, churn, churn

drove across the Midwest plaines into other Midwest plaines.

Goal: Des Moines Iowa

The intention: to clean the attic. of my psyche. to be present in the music accompanying me. the music part seemed to be going quite well, but not the attic, which only got more cluttered with each passing mile. Even Bach, and Fairport Convention, a Mozart clarinet sonata, Dylan’s Time out of Mind, The Feelies, The Fiery Furnaces. Tried streaming radio every so often.

The result: But nothing worked. the brain kept churning out thought after thought after thought. Ceaseless chatter through the 360 miles. An exhausting amount to think about for 2 sides of a solitary brain.  But by the end, neither side had very much to say to each other. this persistent, invasive chatter. i think they were having a tiff, the left and the right sides, with the music struggling to be heard above it.

There’s more to say about my night here in Des Moines and trying to contend with family-indued infantilism. It happens every time, i retreat to his infantile place… and I wonder why I keep returning. always managing to succumb to it… how to make that stop?

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raked by indecision

is the expression ‘raked by indecision’? no… that was just me imagining something I heard. what i meant to saw was wracked by indecision. the state i have been these past 24 hours.

i easily could have made things happen, but I made so many typing errors. I don’t really know why. the short version that I will attempt to type is that I was virtually at that precipice of quitting work… i got with within a hare’s breath. But somehow that inexplicable  voice that isn’t me led me to attend staff-wide end-of-summer party. I don’t know how I could have let them happen. I mean, I get through my workdays feeling violated, psyche-wise. And there I went, feeling insanely obliged. for what, I ask you?

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a very quick post as it is very very late and long past my expiration hour.

today was one of those days where there were so many moments of embarrassment. so many moments, I could not possibly count them all. i would take tiny step towards expressing myself–at work mostly–and then instantly regret it. i’m even embarrassed to admit how embarrassed i felt. I even embarrassed myself on Facebook… i should never have shown up on Facebook today. i don’t even know why Facebook is even worth mentioning.

i hear the voice of one of my sisters telling me, “don’t apologize!!! I can’t stand your apologizing.” and then repressing my instinctual response to any kind of harsh criticism or scolding.

I’m not sure what made me think of this.

i am not doing blog therapy here. wouldn’t that be terrible if that happened? Then I’d really be sorry.

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over-over-tired

have you ever had one of those days where you are sooooooo incredibly tired that you are too tired to sleep? you kind of drag yourself off the couch where you’ve been nodding off… into bedroom and when you lie down, absolutely nothing happens. there was a tiny window of opportunity to fall into sleep, a tiny tiny window, and somehow you missed it. And then it was gone.

But you’re also too tired to read, to talk to your friends in other time zones, to talk to yourself.

And then the next day, you find yourself tripping over a chair as you make your way out of the gym, surprised that you have managed to put yourself through an arduous workout and it’s amazing that you even summoned the energy to do that, but then, right afterwards, things begin to disintegrate. you’re driving and everything seems to be coming at you at once, or the opposite and you realized you narrowly missed grazing a pedestrian…. at least you like to think you missed. *By “you,” I mean “me”

What I would give for a good solid undisrupted 8 hours of deep sleep. Just once per week. Can you imagine what a difference that would make? It would be incredible. I think  of why I am not living up to my potential as a human being upon this early and I blame it all on sleep deprivation.

I can only imagine life with sleep. real sleep. not pretend sleep. how one could think on one’s feet instead of tripping over them. now That would be something.

P.S. somehow in writing the first draft of this blog, i accidentally navigated off the page and lost everything. I was in such despair, because this was my big accomplishment for the day. and I wiped it all away with a trip over my mouse pad. so this is a 2nd draft, a very weak impersonation of the first.

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The Oracle is always right

free from hyperbole, I plowed through infamy, waiting for rescue and redemption. My Oracle told me the big problem, the big thing I was hung up upon was this waiting… waiting for help from The OutSide. Help I can only deliver to myself.

i have to admit, it was a real drag to hear someone say this to me, even an Oracle with visions and guides, but I know in my heart that the Oracle was right. The Oracle is always right.

I don’t even know what I’m waiting for. The Oracle told me that I have gone to extravagant contortions to contain/constrain my voice… and this had nothing to do with vocal cords. I said, I didn’t even know I had a voice. She said I needed to squeeze off the lid of the container. And set my voice free.

I said, what voice? I didn’t even know I had a voice. She said, I think you just told me that a few seconds ago. I said, I did?

We both realized that these were language-like sounds emanating from my body, but it was not my voice who was making them. This seems to be a recurring problem.

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Maybe it was all a dream,…

Maybe it was all a dream, or maybe it was just a text message. i can no longer tell the difference.

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a strange peace …

that came over me today. I’m not quite sure when, where or how it happened. it’s not something I expected or hoped for or prayed for. it just sort of happened.

the only real explanation I can think of is that I doubled my dose of fish oil supplements.

but then again, it’s probably not rooted in the tangible world. I can hope and pray for things to happen in the tangible world and am at a loss when they do not, just like any other pedestrian … which leads me to see myself as the obstacle i must overcome in order to get from here to there and back again. Even when that place is so elusive, unframed, undefined, indeterminate, and strange.

but that doesn’t explain the strange peace. even during those annoying moments, standing right next to somebody who is talking loudly on his cell phone and then kind of glares at me as if I am invading his privacy… even during those moments that threatened my equilibrium… that strange peace returned more determined than ever.

if I could figure out how it got here, maybe I could replicate it tomorrow, but somehow that never quite pans out, does it?

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Bob Hope, swimming

Early this morning, I dreamed that I saw Bob Hope entering a large body of water to swim what I think was the English Channel. The entire scene was in beautiful, deep and cinematic black and white… kind of like the black and white of Wings of Desire. Bob Hope was dressed perfectly for the color scheme, wearing a tuxedo as he entered the turbulent but velvety sea. Another man accompanied him, but I could not decipher his identity.

I tried to talk to Bob Hope when he was neck deep in the water, but a storm was brewing. He turned back to me to respond, but it was clearly a struggle for him. It looked like the water was cold. And he swam away.

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guardian angel

he makes regular featured or cameo appearances in my dreams… my much beloved and greatly missed English Mastiff… always protective and comforting…. sometimes struggling as he did in those final weeks. I am not the best at remembering my dreams. I always vow to keep a dream journal, but I don’t and then I dis-remember the dreams. And then I move on with the days as if nothing had happened, even when the dream is the most significant part of the day.

Last night he appeared again, but I just remember the gigantic Mastiff body, no image of the surrounding environment. I think he was there to help me sleep, which he did at 5:00 a.m., with the help of a klonopin, which I am embarrassed to admit. But I know I can confide in you, dear reader, because I know you do not exist, and I am only murmuring these words to myself and typing them at the same time.

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solidifying

i am writing to you now to distract myself from things i could be writing about if i had the clarity and the courage to write about them. i can trace some of my reluctance to some day-old kale salad that lingers within me still. but i think what i am not writing about goes far beyond that.

the things i feel, i am not ready to express because we still do not know each other very well, although you probably know me better than i know myself. that much i can say. the things i feel might explain why my heart is beating so fast.

but the things that consume me i am leery of putting into words, lest words solidify what is transitory. i can trace some of this to my sleepless dream-filled night. so many many dreams, one after the other, a steady stream restraining me from slumber. but if i could remember any of them, you would be the first person i would tell because i totally trust how you would interpret them. i can’t say that about everybody.

how little i understand of everybody. i wish i knew them better. but human relations are so perplexing to me. i don’t know how humans do it. every time i think i understand humans and how i can best relate to them, i stumble and fall.

i might be wise to starting learning more about this… and maybe put my piano lessons off for another few weeks. my piano teacher will understand.

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the kitchen

a voice cried out

“if you can’t handle the music, well then get out of the kitchen!”

i could not tell where the voice was coming from. It may come from above or below, or just next to me, or maybe even from deep within me. I could not really tell

So I cried out in every direction I cried out

“What music? What kitchen? I don’t see or hear either one.”

maybe that was the message.

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the way we were

she said, no worries

it’s all good, i responded in response.

then she asked, how can it all be good?

i had an instinct that it all was, almost a premonition about something good. maybe not all of it, but maybe some of it might be good.

i asked her if it might be possible for us to not analyze it too granularly, at least for now.

she said, well i suppose.

i said that it was not my intention to impose my belief system upon anyone, right before I offered my apology.

she said, i know, i know. i know you’re really good about that. I’ve always appreciated that about you.

but I was beginning to get a little uneasy.  i thought that maybe if I just kept talking, everything would get smoothed out… and the way we were yesterday would return to how it could be today.

but that’s not really how it works, is it? That’s what I feared she might say, although, of course, she did not.

how is your mother doing? I asked.

her mom is doing great. except for the arthritis. how is your mom doing?

i said my mom was well, except for the arthritis and a knee replacement.

It had been quite some time since either of us had seen our fathers. It seemed like everyone I knew once had a father some time ago.

but still there was something absent. something that was there yesterday, but wasn’t there today.

when she took the cell phone out of her pocket to check the time, i sensed something rather sad and stark.

She said, I should really get going, I have an early morning tomorrow.

It was true. She always had an early morning to wake up to. Yet still, I felt a bit uneasy. It wasn’t quite like rejection, but almost on that precipice… and I felt instant shame for letting my mind wander in that direction.

But I rose above it. I said, what is your day like tomorrow?

She told me about her 8 a.m. class, and a meeting with students, and a grant proposal that was due, and picking up her friend visiting from Philadelphia from the airport. 

I had no reason to doubt any of this.

I said, oh, I don’t want to keep you.

she said, and I don’t want you to throw me away.

We said goodnight, pecking each other on each cheek. My cheek first, which was a surprise.

When I returned to my apartment, I ate. First a peach, then yogurt, then some blueberries, a green apple and lastly a banana. Enough fructose to quell an army, to keep me awake for a fortnight. I ate and ate and ate, until I said, enough already.

Because it truly was.

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fibers

i try my hardest, with every fiber of my body and soul to not talk about this, but it’s eating away inside me.

i don’t even know where or how to begin to describe my loathing of my job. so I will not describe it.

i can only describe what dread, hostility, anger, shame and more dread and stuckness. my job makes me feel unworthy and mediocre and it infuriates me.

i am so angry tonight and it’s so consuming to me that I cannot take much more of it. I don’t know if I can actually take any more of it.

but leaving just for the sake of leaving without having somewhere desirable to go, what is the point in that? I ask you.

I take comfort in Dylan, of course, who always has an answer for everything, or at least knows how to ask the right questions:

Well, I wish I was on some
Australian mountain range
Oh, I wish I was on some
Australian mountain range
I got no reason to be there, but I
Imagine it would be some kind of change

Some people will question me for making a change just for the sake of change. And they are right. But the things I am trying to move toward feel so elusive. lately feeling like my hopes and my dreams are slowly floating further away. how can I swim toward them?

i have been pining for New York, but it hasn’t reciprocated. what can I do to change that? Somehow I must find a way to not lose hope.

Thank you for listening. I am sorry I am not in a better mindset.

If anyone has any hope to offer, I am all ears.

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why i may have left

i wonder what it would feel like to be less guarded, less cautious, less ruminating. to not go about in the world surrounded by an invisible fence. i wonder what it would be like to climb over that fence to find you.  i wonder what it would be like to sit down next to you on the carpet instead of  standing there above you and less than subtly leaning towards the door, apologizing for being so tired, which i was. exhausted. but not really that tired. not tired enough to not find my way back home, not tired enough to ruminate upon what exactly made me leave, or contemplate the possibilities of how that made you feel. i wonder why i did that? i could not think of any sensible reason. but i’m here now. not tired at all.

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The Fortress of Solitude

At work

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