Friday, April 25, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
It was a dark and stormy night in los angeles. The moon shone through the apartment like a flood light someone had forgotten to turn off. The street was as cold and silent as death and the windows were bare. It was easy to see her. I watched her move through every room. Wandering, jumpy. A dog barked and she looked like she might jump out the window. She had no idea I was there but I know she could feel my eyes by the way she kept looking out into the night. I reminded myself how lucky it was that she had a circular apartment with so many windows. So many chances to see her.
She seemed so nervous that night. She had been alone for two days. I knew I had only one more day to make my move. I half hoped that she would spot me and invite me in for tea, that would make it so much easier. I always hope that and they never do. If only she knew how easy she could make it on herself if she would just come to me. If she could just admit how she feels about me, instead of leaving me shivering, cowering with the hydrangeas. How could she do this to someone she so clearly loves? I wrote her a letter once. It was beautiful. I used all the best words and phrases. She cried when she read it. She showed it to her boyfriend. I could only imagine her showing him the letter and telling him that she had found her one true love and that it was over between them. He put his arm around her, comforting her, then he took off in his van, leaving her life wide open for me. But how could she still leave me out in the cold?
If only she would have given in then the police would have stopped bothering me and we could live happily ever after. Oh how I loved a hard headed dame like this one. I was sure her insides were as beautiful as her outsides. I couldn't wait to split her open. I wondered silently if the noodles she had for dinner would come spilling languorously out along with her intestines like little worms.
Sadly, I never got the chance to find out. I didn't know it, but when the dog barked, she got suspicious and called the police. I heard it before I felt it. The sickening thud when the officer hit me on the back of the head with his club. There is no echo when a blunt object makes contact with your head. There is no bouncing back. Just THUD.
As I sit here in my cell I can still feel the knot from where he hit me. I drew a picture of it and sent it to her but she hasn't responded yet. I'm sure she is too distraught to even read. I saw her crying when they were dragging me away. I know the scraping of my heels along the asphalt was too much for her to bare because she ran inside and slammed the door. I think of her every night. Only a few more months until we can be together again and everything will be alright.
*I no longer live in that apartment...
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
You wake up but you don't get up. What's the point? It's just today again. It's been today for the last three hundred and sixty five days. You can't remember anymore your last yesterday. You can't imagine your next tomorrow. It's dark outside. The dark is so bright it burns your retinas. You put the sheets over your head to block it out. You can't see for the brightness. It's so airy that you have to suck and struggle for breath. You don't want to die under here in such bright darkness, even more than that you don't want to live under here. You get up. It's been days. You woke up this second. You woke up today. The second today of the week that does not exist. You are not alone. There are others who are stuck on today. Some celebrate it, some try to out run it, some question it. They look at the calendars as they burn them and scream, "Why meee?!!" The calendars look back and smirk.
"Why not you?"
There's really not point to it all. There is no point to any of it. Today, tomorrow, yesterday, it's all in what you call it. It's all the same thing. Last year, next year, semantics and a few more wrinkles. You perch on the edge of the vast pink couch like a hippopotamus in a tutu. You look in a mirror, you contemplate today's wrinkles. They are deeper than today's. Today's will be deeper than today.
A wee part of your brain triggers and a thought runs through and it's gone. you caught a flit of it. it looked like letters. You think you recognized a "y". An extra "y". A "y" in front? It's too much. You make toast. You make a note to buy more bread today. You wonder how on earth you are going to choose which pre-made pre-frozen, labeled dinner to eat when they all say today. Who made these frozen treats? You might remember her today, you might not. She is from those past yesterdays.What are yesterday's? Now you've gone and confused yourself. You find an old picture from today. There is a woman smiling at you. She's holding a puppy. Today you are alone. You open up the calendar to today. The page says it's tomorrow. You wonder how it can already be tomorrow. You turn to the next page. It too says tomorrow.
She's coming home tomorrow. You remember. Tomorrow she gets home. Or maybe she leaves yesterday. Either way it is finally tomorrow. you shake your head and move into action. You better hurry up, you don't want to fall behind. The future's already happening, whether you want it to or not.
Friday, April 18, 2008
You wonder who put salt under your eyelids when you weren't looking. You think they may have slipped some pepper in there too. You walk into the living room that might be yours and you notice that something is missing. The dog is accounted for, no kids to worry about. You wander around the tiny apartment. You check the freezer. There, as always, she has left you enough complete, frozen homemade meals to last you through the two weeks that she will be gone. She has been doing this for years. You don't even talk about it anymore. They are just there, like her.
This might be the day you shake hands and tell her your name. It might be the day you renew yours vows. Either way, time is relative. As you think about time you settle yourself deep into the shallow pink sofa like a deep sea fish comfy in a tide pool. You think that maybe time has gotten confused. She will walk in the door at any minute and announce that she had a wonderful trip. She's not even on the plane yet. She's been gone for a year.
You put your head in your hands and imagine that if you sit that way long enough it will come to you. What will come to you? You have no idea. You just wait. You have six more cups of coffee. It's been six years. She's not coming back. It's been six minutes, your children have disappeared.
It made sense yesterday. It will make sense tomorrow. It will never make sense today. You wonder how you keep missing today. You circle it on your calendar, you make lists titled, "Things to do Today" but, still, you always miss it. You tell yourself that when today comes, you won't miss her anymore. You wait for today. You realize, suddenly, that it's tomorrow. You missed it again. You start to think that,maybe, without her, there is no today.
She isn't gone yet. She isn't going anywhere today. Tomorrow, yes. Yesterday she left. You open the calendar to tomorrow. The page says it's today. All the pages say it's today. You were so sure you missed it, but now it's all there is.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I am waiting by the phone. I have called twice already, now it's his turn. I'm so excited I'm blowing up inside. I can't wait to tell him that I made a mistake and that I love him, no matter what, despite and because of who and what he is. Oh god! I love him so much. I can't stop thinking of the last time I saw him.
It was four days ago. We met for dinner at a local mexican restaurant. The mariachis played us a song, my favorite. Volver Volver, so appropriate and I didn't even know it at the time.
Where is he? I told him on the phone from the office that I had something important to tell him. I know he has rehearsal, that can run late. I wonder if he's telling the guys that I called. I bet he is. I bet he knows. I bet he's celebrating. I bet he's just dying to finish so he can rush over here and hear the news. The suspense is terrible.
I know! He's waiting until he knows I will be asleep and he will use his key and slip in and whisper that he loves me too and he's so happy to be home. Tomorrow morning I will wake up and make us breakfast and coffee, just like nothing ever happened. We will spend the day running errands together and holding hands in the park. Wait, no, I hate the park. We will go to the record store and he will dig around and pick out Doc at the Radar Station on vinyl. he knows I've been searching and searching for it.
I can't stand it. Maybe I should try to sleep. Then at least I wouldn't be thinking about it. Yes, if I do that, before I know it he will be home, wrapped around me. I've brushed my teeth. My phone is charged, my ringer is set loud, right by the bed, just in case he lost his key and needs me to let him in.
I can't sleep, this is like waiting for santa claus. I must sleep. I will count sheep. 1...2...3...4...5............................
Oh wow, it's 4:30. I must have fallen asleep. He's not here. Drat! I bet he called and I was in such a deep sleep I didn't hear it. Oh no! I bet he thinks I blew him off. I would never do that, never! I feel terrible. Where's my phone? Crap, i knocked it off the night stand.
Weird. No missed calls. I hope he's okay. Sometimes he over does it with the booze and gets behind the wheel. Please let him be okay. Please don't let something have happened to him. I can't bear to think that he never knew how much I love him and how sorry I am. Maybe he just went out with the boys and lost track of time. I'm calling him.
Oh god. He's in a ditch somewhere, my worst nightmare has come true. But, maybe he's sleeping and didn't hear the phone. Maybe he passed out on the couch in the rehearsal space. He does that. Maybe I should go over there. Maybe I should call again. No, I can't call again, that would make me look crazy. I will give him ten minutes to call me back. But if he was sleeping then he may have been slightly roused by the ringing, enough that if I call again right away it will fully wake him up. He won't think I'm crazy. Four years together is enough that it is absolutely reasonable that I call again. Yes. Yes, I will call again.
It's ringing. and ringing. Come on! Wake up! Wake up! Wake...
"I'm sorry if I woke you."
Is he at a party?
"I was just worried that you didn't come home and you never called."
Who is that in the background?
"Are you at jimmy's?"
"No? Where are you?"
Silence. Why is he so quiet all of a sudden?
"Why aren't you here? Why didn't you call?"
More silence. No. oh no oh no oh no. Please don't say it.
"I'm sorry, I've..." No no no no no stop!
"...met someone else."
I can't breathe. I should say something here. I'm supposed to say something, anything. All I can hear is no no no no no. Oh my god. That's me. I am saying something. I have to stop. I have to have dignity. Stop crying. Stop it now.
Hang up the phone. I can't hang up the phone. This has to be a joke. A sick joke. Get it together and get off the phone! But I can't, if I get off the phone he will go back to her. He will never come home.
"You know. Earlier today when I called. I wanted to tell you that I made a mistake. I'm sorry, and I love you. You can come home now, it's okay."
"I know why you called. I could hear it in your voice. I'm so sorry. It's better this way. Go back to sleep I will call you tomorrow."
Better this way? Better for who?! I feel sick. I can't breathe. I'm going to vomit. Hang up. Hang up.
Now what? He has to come over here. He has to come back. I should call back. I should keep calling until he agrees to come over here and talk to me. This is insane. I have to let him call me. He will call. I know he will.
Come on phone, ring. Ring damn it! It's ok, he's just giving me time to calm down. He will call in a minute and say he was drunk or high and he didn't know what he was saying. Wait, drunk or high? I don't want someone like that. Let her have him. I don't need him I'm better than that. I will be strong, I will show him what he's lost.
WHY AREN"T YOU RINGING???? Stupid phone. Maybe it's broken. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown it across the room. Maybe I should call him to see if he called and it didn't come through.
I should not call back. I should not. If you love something set it free and all that jazz. He's still not answering. I'm sure he will come to his senses tomorrow. I'm sure of it. Maybe he's breaking it off with her right now. Maybe I should call and apologize for yelling and acting crazy. Maybe he wants to come over but he's afraid I won't let him in.
Yes, I'm sure that's it. I'm just going to call one more time so he knows it's okay. Just once more, I promise and then I will go to bed. Maybe I should give myself the option of two more times in case he doesn't hear his phone ring. Yes two more, just two more and then I will go to bed. Or maybe I shouldn't set limits on myself. This is love after all, right? Maybe just three more times....
Monday, April 14, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
I have an obsession with the way things smell. And with smelling all things. I've always wanted to create a perfume but that dream is a bit more expensive than, oh, I don't know, my dream of writing things down and having people read them... ahem. So for today's "assignment" I'm pulling up an old review from the old blog, that's what makes it slightly cheating, well that and I am posting it super late on Thursday but it's technically Friday so it counts.
*another note, reference points used in this post are my tattoos.
I went to Scent bar today looking for something new to obsess about and compulsively buy since alcohol and food are no longer options. On my right wrist, just above the 5 IS Avignon, part of the incense series from Commes des Garcon.
Here is the description:
Powerful and intense, Avignon evokes the medieval city in the south of France which surpassed Rome as the Catholic Church's power center in the 14th century. It's the scent of gothic cathedrals and Papal palaces, of tapestries imbued with centuries of incense. Of cold marble steps, holy relics and dark confessions. The recognizable smells of frankincense and myrrh open the high mass of Avignon, giving way to the almost eye-smarting, gloriously smoky and resinous heart. A dry vanilla and soft Roman chamomile dull the edges of this reverent fragrance. Beautiful, dark and mysterious, Avignon takes its place among the most talked about (and admired) of CdG's entire line.
Here is what I smell like:
The actual original frankincense the wisemen brought to jesus that has recently been dug up from under a pile of burning wood.
I thought it couldn't get worse so I went ahead and sprayed a bit of Vannile Bourbon on it, just to see what would happen. Now I smell like after they pulled the frankincense from the burning pile they rolled it around inside of a my little pony doll.
On my left writs, smack inside the circle is Calypso Vanille (can you find the theme?)
Here is the description:
Don’t be fooled by the name. Calypso’s vanilla is not a sweet, moist cookie of a scent (just thought we should let you know). It’s a burst of equal parts vanilla, bergamot (think: orange, grapefruit and lemon) and orange blossoms. A scrummy concoction of all the things we love best, all wrapped up in background of white musk. Vanille is a sophisticated creamy, musky floral/vanilla with remarkable lasting power…we could smell its warm musky vanilla traces many hours after first applying. Dreamy, creamy, rich and fabulous!
**I hated this in the bottle. I hated this on the paper. I sprayed it on anyway. BUG SPRAY!! Horrible acrid horrible bugspray, look out sister, this is horrible!
Nine hours later, I kind of secretly like it. It smells like my mom on the beach in 1984, almost sweet, a little floral with an underpinning of coppertone. The downer is that there is also something very "perfumey" about it that makes me think it is probably popular among the big hair set in Dallas.
On the compass I have the aforementioned Vanille Bourbon
Vanilla lovers, it’s time to rejoice! Two types of orchid are used to bring to mind an intense, sweet, rich vanilla fragrance, anchored with the delicious scents of heliotrope, exotic tiare and warm amber. This is an instant smile and an easy laugh…it’s soft vanilla joy in a bottle. Easygoing yet totally addictive (we mean it—we crawled over two tables one day to find exactly what gorgeous vanilla was enticing us so!), this is the finest bourbon vanilla we’ve ever laid our noses on. The Absolu version is strong—an amazing plus for any vanilla scent (and wonderful staying power, too!) Did we say addictive? Vanille Bourbon has left us with a loss for words, so we’ll just say, “WOW!”
What does the compass smell like? Avignon. That stuff has moved in and taken over. I'll have to talk about that one another time I guess.
Wow, I've bored myself. Sorry about that.