Thinking in reverse

This old house is burning down
in a blaze of gasoline
You've been writing out your suicide notes
since you were thirteen
And you say that you're sorting
through the feelings that you have
And you're sort of feeling nothing
well that's all I ever had

And somewhere far away from here
I won't be the one to tell you
when you finally face your fears
that everything is alright, darling
and everything is alright

In my I arms I hold myself
cause everyone else is asleep
I've been watching you breathe in and out
you breathe so desperately
And the sky falls like hellfire
on the roof above our heads
You've been wishing I'd just leave you alone
while wishing you were dead

And somewhere far away from here
I won't be the one to tell you
when you finally face your fears
that everything is alright, darling
that everything is alright

Cause this old house is burning down
in a blaze of gasoline
You've been writing out your suicide notes
since you were thirteen
--JK

Strange

I dreamed I was reading the instructions for a pill:

A few items, then

The baby will search for other options.

A few more things I don't remember, then

You will hear laughter at this point. Don't let it surprise you.

Then

You've said goodbye before to friends, but now you'll say goodbye to a friend you haven't met.

Strange, especially the part about the baby's laughter, which I remember as honest and joyful. I knew that the baby wasn't worried, that it was going to be okay. Strange.

...

Are you okay?

Thinking

About all the things that broke loose over the past week.
About the things that were already broken.
About all the things that were in the process of breaking.

About boundaries.
About expectations.
About communication.

About the horrible silences that I'm not sure how to break.

About the words I need to say.
About the words I made myself say.
About the words I wish I hadn't said.

About sacrifice.
About trust.
About violation.

About plans for the future.
About the painful process of metamorphosis.

About my next moves.

well, fuck.

I hate you, T-Mobile. I hate you, that part of myself that isn't very smart when it comes to these sorts of things.

The bottom line: don't expect to talk to me on the phone unless it's

1. the weekend, or
2. Monday-Friday after 9 pm in Portland.

It's nothing personal.

This is the sound of silence.

Sloshing in the rain with Bonnie yesterday, out of the blue I heard myself say, "I really hope I get another shot at life." I just keep fucking this one up because I don't know any better.

For W

It occurred to me the other day
you've been gone now a couple years
Well I guess it takes a while
for someone to really disappear
I remember where I was
when the word came about you
It was a day much like today
the sky was bright and wide and blue

And I wonder where you are
and if the pain ends when you die
And I wonder if there was
some better way to say goodbye
--PG

I dreamed about you again last night. We were in the front room, weak light streaming in through the lace curtains and women talking and laughing in rayon seafoam dresses and cateyes, the way they did in all those old pictures. You were wearing a dark wool shirt, sitting in the swivel chair looking out the window toward the fencerows and cedars. I held your hand from behind, strong but soft now, and cried silently. I didn't want you to know that I was crying for you.

Sunday morning coming down

It's another drizzlegrey Portland day.

A part of me misses the clear sharp thin Interstate sun between Laramie and Rawlins, the incessant sandblast roar of ground blizzards, the uneasy backseat understanding that life is a delicate ricepaperpaper thing.

G told me about two magpies in the trees yesterday: they were quiet, picking things from the branches in the cold. I thought about how their racousness could give way to tenderness sometimes.

And I remembered the gang of them in the field by the donut shop on Tudor: the adults swooping down and landing on top of the plywood sign, the fledgelings overshooting and tumbling in the twilight grass. Learning.

List:

• miso paste
• wakame (or kombu)
• umeboshi

unngh

that was too much party.

lots of miso soup and ginger tea are helping a little.

why do i do these things to myself?

Sounds from the past, hopes for the future

Want you here tonight,
want you here
cause I can't believe what I found.
Want you here tonight,
want you here
nothing is taking me down.
--DR

We all took off from work early today, which gave me a chance to get done with some things I've been putting off for too long.

My bosses came back from a three-day trip today, during which time I cleaned and organized the whole office. They hadn't taken out the trash in god only knows how long. ugh. And I made some progress in setting up a filing system for the place. I was a little worried what their reaction would be when they saw that I'd moved the furniture and took huge piles of paper out for recycling, but I must have made a good impression; as I was getting ready to leave, one of them asked if I'd like to set up some meetings with a few of her contacts in the Portland nonprofit world.

I'm trying to avoid putting too much faith in what's still just a possibility, but if I play this right I could be looking at a full-time position with one of several established (read: able to offer a competitive salary) nonprofit groups.

Rachel is having a bon voyage party for her roommate tonight, and I think I'll probably make an appearance. And Mauri called a bit ago too, which works out kind of nice since they live maybe 10 blocks apart. I wonder if it's acceptable to bring friends unannounced to parties for people they don't know ... but then maybe I'm overanalyzing things again. It's a party for chrissakes.

And I don't have to help Paul's friend tomorrow morning either, which means that I can sleep in for a change. Yessss...

And I got paid today: my first real paycheck in 6 months. At this rate I might just make it.

Sometimes the world works if you can just pause long enough to let it.

A small quiet

No bustling business tonight, just a pleasantly overfull stomach. And sleepiness.

For whatever reason, this new job and the change in schedule it's caused have left me remarkably tired. Staring at a fuzzy computer screen in a room with no fresh air doesn't do much to keep me invigorated, I guess.

...and I can barely type tonight for some reason. hmm. It's a major effort to make my fingers move. I don't think I'll be awake much longer. Just a few short check-in calls once my phone kicks into free-evening-minutes mode, and I'll be down for the count.

...

Thanks for the pictures. They're lovely. I love you.

Evening

A quick day at work leaves me with plenty of energy for other projects that need to get done. And it's a good thing, too, considering how much I have to do.

Things are good. And it feels so good that things are good.

More later, but for now I'm off to work out and spend tome time with the birds...

...

10:19 pm:
Too sleepy to write now. But things are good. I've got one last quick phone call to make and I'm off to bed. It's been a good day, and it's reassuring to know that more are on the way.

Goodnight, world.

Last night

I want to do this. I really do. I'm just scared.

Scared of losing everything.
Scared of hurting myself and you+.
Scared that I'm not good enough.
Scared that I don't know how.
Scared that I'm making everything worse.

I'm sorry.