Tag Archives: failure

Just write

Today I am just going to write. Write about the wonder of rain at night. The beauty of the lights coming through the falling drops of water. And when it rains heavy, and it splashes on the dark pavement. The smell in the air, fresh and clean.

I remember in Nebraska sometimes the air would smell musty. It smelled good like soil. Real and rich.

Write about my bowl. Given to me by a beautiful artistic friend. She gave me two bowls and I have them both. But I broke one and had to glue it back together. I wish I could see her and talk to her. I feel like everywhere I go, I miss someone who is somewhere else. But she is here.

Now I want to write about people who aren’t here. The people I went to school with, the people I have loved and lost. The people with whom I grew up.

I had an editor once who taught me about not ending a sentence with, “with,” “to,”but,” ,”is or “or.” I don’t know the grammatical term right off the top of my head. Prepositions?

I am flossing gunk out of my teeth. For the last couple years I had the bad habit and playing with nail bitings in my mouth. So in an effort to stop I am learning to floss more.

Tonight I feel so tired. Not tired in the sense I need sleep, but I do. But tired in the feeling of wanting to rest for days. I want to clean, I want to read, I want to listen to music, I want to write, I want to do tarot. Life is so full of things which are pleasurable. And I spend so much time at work. But, I do enjoy my job.

I don’t want to write about my job. No, not tonight. Let me write about my kitty instead. It amazes me how long we have been together now.  I was thinking about how long it has been since I was in Berkeley. And I think it has been as long since I’ve been there, as it had been when I was there since my mother was in Berkeley. Odd isn’t it? It feels just like yesterday. And I think I can go back and things will be the same.

There is the park where I used to sit. I met the girl in the park. I got clothes from the free box and ate food. The park is still there, but it isn’t the same park. It isn’t my park, like it used to be when I was in Berkeley. It belongs to others.

When I was in Santa Cruz I recall meeting people who said they hadn’t been in town for years. Now if I go back I would be one of those people. I haven’t spent much time in Santa Cruz in at least 10 years. I miss Berkeley and I miss Santa Cruz. Can I pick up and go after all the things and people I miss? No.

My dear friend Karen lives in Sacramento. I miss her too. Though fate seemed to push us down different paths, I once had a little crush on her. Now of course I love her deeply, but it is different. I miss her.

And friends from Rainbow gatherings. I was thinking of a friend in Oakland. I don’t even remember her name, but I miss her too. And the girl I met in San Francisco and then in Pennsylvania. What was her name, she was amazing. Now I am writing myself into a hole. Feeling more and more lonely and depressed. I should stop. But what about Pam and Laura, Shaylyn. And the girl who told me about the Effins, and we learned about the children of the dandelion moon. I miss them all.

Oh, and my street sisters. I only remember one of their names. It was Sarah, like my real sisters name. I miss them and wonder where they are and what became of their lives. And I miss my real sister. I miss the popcorn girls. I will have to share their story later. And Da Da. What about the Pleiadian girl? How old is her child now? I think it could have been mine if I had sex with her the weekend we met. I think her name was Raven. I’ve always been in love and scared at the same time.

I even miss batty old Moon Cat in a way. The guy who used to get mad and beat himself in the balls. He was sick. But he was a good person. And the guy the police shot, Happy. He was also sick. The guy who took photos of me, and let me stay at his house a couple times. He could be dead by now. And Tony the odd older man who roamed downtown in his wheel chair.

Oh yes, Moon Raven. Though I doubt she is still Moon Raven. She had a baby, became a christian and moved to Kansas. I wish I could talk to her again. But I have lost her like I have lost almost everyone. People just come and go and you don’t get to hold on to any of them. Not for long.

Even if I could go back. None of them would be there, on the streets or in the towns. They used to be my homes. But now they are homes for other people. And my home is here for now. Here alone. With my cat.

I miss Kacey. I talked to her the other day. But she is so far away. And Rose is far away too, and even though she threatens to visit, I doubt she ever will. And Leigh, well I can’t talk about her. I miss Stephanie, she is such a success. I wish I could be more like Stephanie.

And I wish I could be more like Sage. We were together for such a short time. It would have been good if we could have been better friends. Yes, I really had a huge crush on her. She was smart. She was sexy. She had more strength than any single person I have met in my life. I want to talk to Sage and tell her how I feel about her, but I won’t.

I feel like a flower. But I am not opening up to life. I close down more and more every year. And I get further and further from more and more people in my life. One day I will live out in the middle of the desert. No one will know my name. They will find me and no one will know who I was, or know I am gone. I might not even know.

See, this is getting dark. This is what I didn’t write for so long. I am trying not to write everything into the same hole. The same dark corner.

I miss Yosemite. It was amazing. I miss the river growing up, and the land to roam and explore. I need to get out soon. But I am so tired and my time is so pressed for other obligations. I don’t always want to be this person, but I don’t know how to be someone else. I don’t want to be alone forever. But who am I before I am not me, but with someone else.

I miss you Mariah. No, it was Moriah – “god will provide.” We used to be so close. We used to share. And it has been almost 20 years. I will never see you again. This makes me sad. There are many people I will never see again, Leigh, Blue, many people with names I forget, Otter.

Oh sweet Otter. We drove from Boulder to Tuscon together. You were an angel. I was so in love with you I didn’t know what to do and I did nothing. Which got me no where. But for a moment I was your friend. And thinking of Tuscon, what about Erin. Lost as well, lost as well.

I’ve lost a part of myself in all the people I have cared about in my life. And you have no idea how many parts a person can lose and still go on with life.

In high school even. There was Heather, I always thought too good for me. And the other kids from the youth group. It is sad Jason isn’t with us at all anymore. I wonder the lives they are having, with kids. My roommate and my best friend from college. It would be fun to see both of them again, together. On a grand adventure. Or just something simple. I love them too.

Oh and Sarah. Yes another Sarah. From college. I know her on Facebook now. But even though I loved her then, everything is broken and far away now. I am broken and far away. There was the other girl in college. She was so hot, in her sweaters and tights. And she told me about learning gymnastics on the beach and messing up her knees. My niece did gymnastics, and I haven’t seen her in years. She can drive now.

I need to go so sleep. Good night. I started this all with talking about the rain. And how did I get to this point? The beauty of the rain is how it falls? Dar Williams. I have never met her, but I would like to meet her someday. But right now it is almost 2:30 a.m.

When I think of you…

When I think of you I feel guilty. I treat you poorly. There is a bitter part of myself which wants to be mean to you, and is often and persistently.

When I think of you I feel lonely. I miss you. I miss the river, the walks, the French, the food, the house, the cats, the reading, the talking, the being friends. I miss you like I miss food. I miss you like I miss the things from my childhood. I miss you like a home, though I’ve never had one. I miss you and I miss you often and persistently.

When I think of you I feel bad for being a jerk. I ignore you calls. I don’t call you back. At times I think you should just give up on being my friend. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day you did. Or maybe you already have. I am a jerk because I feel so many things, and the relationship you seem to want isn’t deep enough to express them. But I am a jerk, because I choose to be. And I don’t know why but I choose to be a jerk often and persistently.

When I think of you I feel like your better off without my Melrose Place drama in your life. I wonder if it isn’t better for both of us to not engage in the emotional turmoil we seem to get sucked into when we connect. And when we don’t connect, but only talk I feel like I am bleeding in the street and everyone is driving by, without stopping. I feel like I hurt you more though contact, than through my absence. I doubt you need a friend like me, I doubt that often and persistently.

When I think of you, I think I still love you. You’re like a part of me, you feel so close. Even when we haven’t spoken for so long, I feel like I could call you and it wouldn’t matter. But it does. I love you because you make me want to be a better person. I just love you for who you are, and who I want to be with you. It isn’t just the Ayn Rand books, it isn’t just a shared love of learning. It is more and more than all the words I could write. It is your sap I love. I really love you often and persistently.

When I think of you I feel like a failure. No, not in terms of our relationship – for which I have to much hope for still to feel like a failure. No, my life. I feel like I want to have a career, to be a person you could be proud to know. The person you thought I was when we were in college together. The person you thought I was when we were together. A person who doesn’t live in a cheap rented room, alone with a cat. A person who doesn’t have a low-pay job, he could have done without the college degree for which he isn’t paying his loans. A person who can and does pay his loans. I want to be John Galt, so you could be my love. I feel like a failure when I don’t think of you too though. I feel like a failure often and persistently.

When I think of you I worry about you. I guess I worry about your career, but you are smarter than I – even though I once said different. I worry about your health. I feel like Forest Gump who would drop everything to run to you and care for Jenny in her illness. I want you to be well. I don’t want to worry about your health. I feel like a bad friend because I don’t know if you are well. Even if you wanted me to, I wouldn’t even know to come to you. In a silly way, I worry about your relationships – just because I there is still a part of me confident enough to believe no one loves you as much as I. When I think of you I worry about you, I worry about you often and persistently.

There are so many things which make me think of you. The cat. Bunny. Some days just the news itself makes me think of you. So many things I see on Facebook. Politics. Donald Trump. Listening to the CDs you gave me (of which I have cloned). I think of you at night, I think of you at work. I think of you in this world which is haunted by you. When I feel alone I think of you the most. When I think of you I feel alone the most. I think of you often and persistently.

Can you see why I don’t try to connect with you more? Where are my sleeping pills? Where is bunny? I need some ice cream and sleep right now.

Poor Malala

After all she has been through, my cat threw up on her face today. Well on the picture of her face on her book which I am reading. It is a good book, a lot about life in Pakistan. It goes without saying life in Pakistan is not like life in America. But it is more than the material differences. The life of her homeland, not Pakistan but the Swat Valley (It isn’t Brooklyn, it is Park Slope), makes clear the western view of the war on terror is misguided. If there is any solution for the region, I don’t think it is a solution we can lead.

On other matters. I have been pretty down lately. Not writing, not reading much, not eating much, not doing much of anything except working and sleeping. Yay for life…. not so much.

Work, so I found out who the new department manager is going to be for the deli. One of the areas I work. I saw one of my co-workers clearly upset, and asked her what was the problem. She was upset about the choice for the new manager, but I am rather pleased by the choice. I might have liked it, and my upset co-worker wanted the job. But truth is nether one of us would have gotten it, if it hadn’t been the person chosen it would be someone else. I hope to learn a lot from the new manager, and then someday be ready for my own promotion.

I think I want to give up on my novel and start a secret project. All I want to discuss is progress or lack of progress. Nothing of the plot or subject matter will be discussed. I feel like it makes it easier for my creative process to work in a little darkness.

Chapter 3

I have introduced my second character. She will be the most supportive and in the end one of the most crucial to the plot. Nominally girl friend to the main character, I think by the end she will play a much more important role in the story.

I didn’t write yesterday. I feel guilty for not writing, for eating so much frozen yoghurt, for being overtime at work, for missing SPARK (a work thing), for being so alone, for not going to yoga, for not going to the gym more, for not finding a better job, for liking the job I have at Wal-Mart.

There is a poem I am thinking of writing too. I think I will try to post it to my LiveJournal by the end of the day. I also need to make sure I start using my To-do list book soon, maybe I will make a list for tomorrow.

All my words are useless…

I feel trapped under the Bell jar more than ever tonight. All the words I could use to express myself, being soundless to the world outside. The world of you, who never hear a word coming from my mouth. I am alone. No one hears me, and most don’t even see me.

On other news. I know what the second chapter of my book is going to be, and how the third and maybe fourth chapters will begin as well.

I could have wrote something today…

…but I didn’t.

I chatted with a friend, watched a DVD from the library. I ate. So now all you have to read is yet another blog post about one of my boring days and my continued lack of writing. Maybe tomorrow I can tell you I started the first chapter in my new book. I have been thinking of the first sentence for a long time. You have to catch people, “In the Beginning was the word…” something to make them stop and focus. I recall reading The Clan of the Cave Bear as a younger person. The first page, she is alone, a child, an earthquake, what is going on, people are dying, is she ok, everyone is dead, how will she survive. It pulled me in enough I couldn’t really stop reading until I finished all 10,000 pages of the book. Ok, it isn’t 10,000 pages long. So my first line is what I have been thinking about. I want to set time to write it and then start rolling into my first chapter. Like when I started reading Clan of the Cave Bear. I clearly didn’t read it all at once, but I want to get enough energy going in the story, so it can continue when I return again and again until I am done with all 10,000 pages.