nanoblogmo

Small Gatherings With Myself (Haiku Version)

The breeze blows southwest

My hair dances all around

I jump into night


The morning is cold

I pull my jacket closer

I miss the white snow


Ocean roars ahead

Sand at my pale toes and hands

Miss your company


Paint your face perfect

Boobs always be very big

Smile for the boys


Wash your neck and sit

He carries the ax high up

Goodbye my true love


I push sun hard

Hey! Come at me bro!

He burns me alive


Music wafts through halls

Many steps increase in speed

Teach me to play it

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This Song I Sing

Clubbing Gear: Mask, High Heels, Purse

Clubbing Gear: Mask, High Heels, Purse

There is a song in me. It plays over and over again. It doesn’t drive me to insanity and actually keeps me from it. It hums over and over. It is like my theme song. I walk around town and it plays. I go to work and it keeps me company. I come home and it relaxes me. It’s a song that takes the bad and makes it good. It’s a song that heals a heart that mourns away from home. When it plays in my physical space, my ears perk up and my mouth starts moving. The song is almost deafened by my version of it. The way I sing a verse or add a longer note is what makes it mine. I keep it close to me. I rewind the bridge so that I can sing it once more- possibly with more passion. Sometimes I sing it until my voice crackles distantly from the original out-of-tune way my voice has come to develop. I don’t care as much because it is my song. I can sing in my car for hours until the song loses it’s original fervor. This song that I have come to love can only stay with me until I forget the words, but never the melody. The rhythm that it paces in my heart replaces what was there before. Faster or slower- my heart mimics the feeling. It completes the bass and the treble in fluid perfection between heartbeats. The song is as alive as I am. I am it and it is me.

It will always be the song I sing.

Starbucks: A Human Chew Toy Story

Best chew stick ever.

Best chew stick ever.

Another drink. Another payment. Another fix. I knew that it would be bad to continue this habit- both for my wallet and my caffeine intolerance. But I continue anyway.

Those magnificent green sticks that stop hot liquid from escaping from the cups. Splash sticks, green stoppers, plastic plugs, green whatchamacallits, swizzle stick-stoppers, green plungers, special plugs, anti-escape liquid devices, plastic miracles… all acceptable names for it. (Don’t they all sound like sex toys?) My nickname is “the human chew toy” because I LOVE to chew on it.

Better than gum. Better than last night’s over-cooked steak. Better than the stickiest taffy you have ever had. Better than the actual Starbucks coffee. It is a miracle piece of BPA-filled plastic that satiates the mouth and curves with the white-colored cavity fillings on your teeth. It is almost useless anyway once your hot beverage has reached a certain level of emptiness. What a waste! Why not take the tip of this plastic wonder and move it back and forth against your teeth? Clickity, clack. Clickity, clack. Clickity, clack. Ahh… sweet, soothing sounds… but that is just the first step. Have you ever finished your hot, caffeinated beverage and thought, “Man… My mouth feel dry and I need some water. I don’t want to be dehydrated anyway.” But, alas!  You forgot to order a bright crystal Starbucks cup filled with ice-cold water! Have no fear! Don’t cry in your driver’s seat, fellow addicted citizen! That is what this spectacular green chew toy is for! After the first step of the emanating sounds of the green splash stick satisfyingly click your at your teeth, you are ready for it to touch your tongue! Feel the flat circular end of the splash stick gently cut between your newly dry taste buds. Feel the foreign object remind you of when you were a toddler when your parents screamed at you to remove a plastic toy from your mouth. Reminisce of your childhood vulgarities and smile that mean child’s smile that says, “I don’t give a shit about the germs in my mouth.” Then once you have reached that former Piaget child development stage that you suppress every day: chew, my friend. Chew that pliable green stick. Now, there are no rules to this. Some chew hard, and some hardly chew at all. The key is to chew enough to make you salivate. Oh my! That dried up tongue stained of coffee or tea will delight immediately! That fresh coat of your own spit and/or acidic bile will please the man or woman that chews at this [probably chemically-filled] stick. The green dye starts to fade to a lighter green due to the bending and munching. This is a happy sign for any human. But alas, there is an end to the madness. Friends, parents and co-workers alike might question your ravenous habit on the misshapen green toy. They might give you stares and ask why it has been in your mouth all day. Ignore these people. Have the green stick make you feel like a farmer with a blade of wheat hanging from your mouth reminding you of simpler times of human existence. Or perhaps a gangster with a joint that makes you feel like a badass. When you feel like it is time to rid of your chew toy, do it out of respect for the fallen green sticks everywhere. Throw it away when you start to choke from your excess saliva. Or it starts to displease your partner at your brother’s black tie charity ball. Or if you are just feeling like you need your mouth back to do normal mouth things. (Such as speaking without a lisp or eating solid foods) Just make sure to give your little splash stick a respectful goodbye by imparting a longing “thank you” stare before dropping it gently over your week old bananas and expensive coffee grounds your friend made you buy at that farmers market. Goodbye, my chew toy.

An addiction of happiness. An addiction of serenity. An addiction to Starbucks splash sticks.

P.S. Thanks Internet for letting me steal your dated ideas on what you call the splash sticks. Thank you brain for being addicted enough to Starbucks for inspiring me to make this VERY REAL blog post…

P.S.S. I am not condoning any theft of the splash sticks. Don’t steal away someone else’s primitive happiness in this cruel world that we are forced to live in.

P.S.S.S. Not for children. ANY OF THIS.

Falling into the Crevasse

“The Hardest Rock In The World To Find…”

A weight has been lingering above me for a while now. The weight of comfort and mind-numbing stupidity. It seems to have gotten worse since I’ve moved back to California. I have no discernible skills. Even my smile is different somehow. Less frequent. I want and want and want. I assume and predict and plan… Nothing is working out. I am getting older and leaving less room for growth. It’s enough to talk the talk, but walking the walk is unbearable. Everything is unbearable. It has always been a chore to do anything. The way I see the world has set me back on multiple occasions. It’s like that feeling you get when you try something you have always had severe reservations about only find out that you really like it or are just starting to understand it. That is what I mean.

I’ve just learned a lot about myself… Most importantly, I am kind of a loner. I try to force myself not to be, but it just doesn’t work out. What happens to the loners who want to be social? Nothing good apparently. You just confuse yourself with trying to please and be likable with the basic elements of friendship. I wonder a lot about how I am supposed to act or empathize with different people. I can’t be someone I am not. The person I am is silent, crude and kind of a slob who cannot empathize without wanting to run away from the beginning of a sad story. That said, I am also a runner. Not so much literally so much as figuratively. I run away from my problems. I like to disappear without a trace. I don’t like people knowing where I am. It’s a closed off kind of world for me.

People learn about themselves around high school and college. They are explorers: they meet different people, try new things, have romantic relationships, aren’t so tired to do anything risky. In another life, I would have been one of these people. I know that I have the ability to be one of these normal people. Normal. Such a word I have been trying to achieve all my life. There is no normal. Only abnormal.

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.  From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.  One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out.  I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.  I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.  ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter 7

One of the parts from Master of None that stuck with me was when Aziz Ansari’s character read this quote from Silvia Plath. Having read this book quite recently, I almost forgot that this is one of the major parts of Esther Greenwood’s life that I really felt like we had in common. Instead of figs, I just imagined getting older and mind-numbingly more stupid to be able to do the things I wanted.

So what are my paths? How do I find the “hardest rock?” (A metaphor for stability and success that I am trying to tie into this blog post. Is it working?) How do I go on from here? Do I just accept that mistakes cannot be avoided? Do I just accept that I cannot be the smartest person in class? Do I just accept that there is no way for someone I like to just look at me and ask me out? Do I just accept that there is no way to be religious and successful at the same time? Do I just accept that the weight will never come off easily? Do I just accept that people might not always be there for me? Do I just accept that there are many people who want to take advantage of me? Do I just accept that love is sometimes conditional and fleeting? Do I just accept that I might never have free time ever again if I decide to commit to something? Do I just accept that people are mostly shallow? Do I just accept that I have to be selfish and mean sometimes if I want to get the things that I want? Do I just accept that I might need to stay on medication for the rest of my life? Do I just accept that I never should be able to change my mind once I have committed to something? Do I just accept that I will never be a millionaire? Do I just accept that jealousy is inevitable even to the best of us? Do I just accept that the people I love will leave my life someday? Do I just accept that I will be alone in a world filled with people who are together? Do I just accept that accepting others can only be done once I accept myself? Do I just accept that I can never be pretty once I pass a certain stage in my life? Do I just accept that I can never say, “I’ll do it tomorrow?” Do I just accept that I can never blame my parents? Do I just accept that I might never get to travel the world? Do I just accept that people will just not like me for no reason? Do I just accept that there is nothing wrong with me? Do I just accept that I might not be able to do everything that I have always wanted to do?Do I just accept that I can never hide away from the pain of living life?

Yes.

Comfort.

I am comfortable here. I like my new queen sized bed. I like my bookcases filled with books to read. I like my desk and chair. I like my window with the bay seating. I like my blankets and pillows. I like my laptop. I like my carpet. I like my AC/heating duct placement. I like my track lighting and ceiling fan. I like my walk-in closet and clothes. I like the stuff I fill in my closet. I like listening to my old neighbor walk around the side of his house in the mornings. I like how I can hear the fire engine roar out of the firehouse down the street. I like seeing the military planes test flight right outside my window in the summers. I like how there is never direct sunlight in my room. I like how the air enters my room in the winter. I like how I am comfortable here.

That is the problem. My comfortable room.

Outside this room, I am questioning. I am curious. I am messy. I am subjugated to brutal judgement. I am confused. I am in danger. I am compared. I am less-than. I am out of place. I am craving. I am lonely. I am with others. I am deciding. I am outlandish. I am trying…

But in my room. I am the only person I answer to. I am the only person here. I know where I am. I know myself better than when I am outside my comfort zone. But sometimes, I need to get lost and uncomfortable.

P.S. Went out on a night drive today. I cried when I thought about something sad. I realized that I haven’t cried in a while. These new tears found a newer, grosser way of sliding down my throat. That’s how I knew that I haven’t cried in a while. Kind of a bittersweet feeling.

P.S.S. Watched the rest of Master of None on Netflix. I recommend it. It deals with real-world relationships a lot. I feel like if you saw his last stand up of Netflix, you would have a nice background to his episodes. (Although you kind of wish he had new material on many occasions) Some of the last episodes made me feel like I was watching something extremely staged, but also very intimate. I don’t yet have words to describe this weird visual effect. Also, Aziz Ansari’s parents were cute.

Say: “Non Sequitur Relationship”

Talk to me.

Tell me something worth my time. Tell me that you know what love is. Say something that I can laugh at. Tell me that you know a different language. Tell me how to curse in that language. Tell me about your day. Tell me what bothered you. Say how you worry about me. Tell me what you think is right. Tell me what you think is wrong. Tell me that you are up for hypothetical situations. Tell me intimate details about your love life. Say that you like cuddling with me. Tell me details about your family. Tell me what you love and hate about the people you love. Tell me the last time you spoke to your mother. Tell me about the last book you read. Tell me about your sick pet. Tell me about what you think death is. Tell me about the last time you really cried. Tell me about your favorite fragrance. Tell me that you hate it when people are stupid. Say what you think of me. Tell me what kind of weather you enjoy. Tell me about your favorite foods. Say what you hate about me. Tell me about your opinions about being an adult. Tell me about your ambitions. Tell me about your secrets. Tell me about your bad habits. Say what makes you attracted to me. Tell me what kind of activities you do in your spare time. Say that you want to be with me. Say that you love me.

Now tell me that you are sick of talking to me.

If I Were To Share My Life With You…

If I were to share my life with you, things wouldn’t go well. (more…)

Him I Knew

I knew him. The way that some animals know where to migrate to in the winter. It was like a happy repetitive dream that I could enjoy every night. One that gives you a warmness in your heart. A safe dream that would get exciting when things seemed to speed up. He helped me take it into account- my life, that is.

(more…)

Justifying things

It’s a special kind of place.

No insects or amphibians. No animals of any kind. No unnecessary dirt. No bad smells. No worries. No responsibilities. No physical or emotional pain. No starvation. No judgement. No love. No hope. No improvement. It is a lonely place, but not all of it is bad.

Bright, lazy sunlight. Great green trees. Gentle wind. Soft grass. An almost endless sparkling blue lake. Abundance of clouds in the sky. Adrift water lilies. A wooden boat access that extends out into the horizon. Mountains that cradle one side of the scene.

And one human in paradise.