Category: Love

I just realized I never got around to writing about my return trip from Colorado. And, to me, that was almost the best part. I took the long way home, choosing to travel south through New Mexico, rather than angling southeast. My intention was to pop in on my friend Raymond before heading back to Austin. No big whoop, right?


Well, I left Denver super early. It was gorgeous outside. I resumed my steady stream of “No fucking way” I had continually uttered at the sheer gorgeousness of everything in the universe. First, it was the moon that I began my journey beneath. I snuck out of the house before Pansy and Scott could wake up and drove south – hoping to drive as far up pike’s peak as possible. Unfortunately, Pike’s Peak tollway doesn’t open until after 9, and I got there well before.


I took the opportunity to, instead, take a nice stroll through the garden of the gods. Excitedly trying to snap pictures of the (to me) pretty black and white birds I saw everywhere. I’m sure to people from Colorado, these birds are as interesting as grackels are to us Austinites, but I just adored them.

IMG_9111 IMG_9118







IMG_9146 IMG_9147














Oh, and there were also some pretty rocks to look at.













After wandering around for a bit, I got back into the car and drove around the little town until I found a restaurant with the word Omelette in its name. Hoping to get a decent omelette, but ended up getting this monstrosity stuffed with canned jalapenos and nothing else. It was pretty gross. Thankfully, I apparently have a stomach made of steel, because I suffered no after-affects of that culinary atrocity on the journey.

I spent much of the day traveling along what I perceived to be the Pacific-Coast Highway of the Rio Grande…I THINK it was 285, but I’m having difficulty mapping it now, and it might have been a smaller road than that. Snaking through Taos and Santa Fe alongside the river. I love and fear traveling near water. I get the same kind of feeling I always get when I’m in a high place. That feeling that I might just be overly tempted to throw myself over the edge or drive right into the water, and not be able to stop myself from doing so. I felt the same delight traveling next to that river as I did when I found myself accidentally driving through Clearwater National Forest, as well as the multiple times I’ve driven up and/or down the actual PCH. An approximation of the feeling I’ve had standing on the shore of Lake Michigan…coastal Florida…The Pacific Ocean…This. Is. Where. The. Land. Ends. What lies beyond is made of the stuff of drowning. You can walk to the edge of me, but once you cross that line, you are altered physically.


And it’s these little surprises that happen along the way that make me prefer road trip travel (particularly when I am able to be loose about schedules and therefore choose (or not choose, and let randomness choose) the path I take. I tried to take as many obscure routes as I possibly could (which isn’t difficult to do with my meandery GPS system that seems to be programmed to send me off on the least direct route possible.) And while I didn’t have enough time to actually stop and enjoy the water, I did take the time to pull off the road a view times and take pictures, or write, or just sit in silence and wonder.

I was listening to the last half of Nick Cave’s _The Death of Bunny Munro_ on CD, having heard the first half on my way up, and trying to decide if I liked it because it was by (and read by) Nick Cave, or if it was because it was actually a good book (I’m still not sure what the answer is to that.) The day was perfectly temperate, clear, sunny. There was more traffic on the way home than there had been on the way up to Colorado, where I barely encountered a single car the whole time I was driving on open roads. And it took me a very long time to get to Albuquerque.20140316_174214

But I got there, and got a tour of the gallery from Raymond, and stayed a little longer than I should have but not even a fraction of the time I wanted to stay, picked up a gigantic pizza to feed the boys when I got home, and left just before dusk, determined to somehow drive the remaining 10 hours straight through, all the way home – losing an hour at the border, and getting me home at around 4 in the morning. hahaha.

I’m nothing if not ambitious. Particularly when it comes to driving.

But I’m also practical. And, after once again marveling at a fucking gorgeous full moon slowly emerging first as a giant plasmatic orb peeking just over the tops of distant landscape, and inching slowly to the top of sky – beaming triumphantly. It hypnotized me, and I realized I was getting tired already at 11 AM, and this is my VACATION, damnit…so I decided to stop at a hotel near the border of NM/TX and get some rest and enjoy the rest of the journey daylight even though, like regrettable sex, the drive through Texas is almost always best done in the dark of night.

And with that…I’m going to end this section and write the last leg another time.

snippets of springtime from random journal entries:

There is a tiny baby in polka dots here in the waiting room at the eye doctor. We are waiting for Buddha the Grouch’s pupils to dilate. The baby cris, is picked up by her mom. She (the baby) makes a motor boat sound with her tiny lips. I tell Buddga the Grouch “That baby is cute. I want to squish her.” Buddha the Grouch says “That baby wants me to be able to play M-rated video games.


End of day I’m off my feet

This cultivated silence, background noise & candle & a cuppa joe. Resounding non-sound a temporary respite from day’s dull roar & I sit in silence, let word overtake me silence bringing onrush of joy to temporary standstill silence & my crickets still sound like birds after all these years humidity brings it back to me that bedroom window the only place to press my face for cooler air to embrace. People drifting in and out of my picture view, bumbling like enormous mountains the size of ships. The traffic shifts my focus.


Dear You,

What have I learned this week? That you can’t force a banana into a peanut jar? That I don’t know why I keep ending up in the middle of crazy-ass relationships. It’s like the reverse instinct. Like when we were at the zoo & the people all ran TOWARDS the lion when he roared.


What I mean to say is this – I am forming sentences in a vacuum. A grave mistake. A simple misdirection and a hollow expression. This magic can interact transgressively. Regress into an open can. Trying to believe I can be liberated. B.B. King is free from the spell.


I ate popcorn for dinner tonight – and other tales of misguided adulthood.

The dog is outside, whining. Right now, I’m playing Sims. Enjoying peace and housematelessness and guestlessness. Soon there will be more guests and new guests and before that kids and back to work.

But at least the house is mostly clean, and the laundry is mostly done, and I have mostly exercised mostly every day. Mostly.

From here on out, I get to do what I want to do. Wander around in my pajamas all day.
















When did I allow my heart to get so fettered, not feathered,

Weathered. This is not love

by any approximation & yet

it is approximately the closest

I feel like I can get


One who gives me everything but

one who gives me nothing but

I divide myself into portions

Portions of me


For the taking.


I should be satisfied


the dove in my hand, and

the hawk in my bush.


I may go cold turkey.










I wonder what I am half paying attention to now?

What am I?

I stopped caring

the minute I stopped


Steadfastly refuse to call myself

a poet


paint words

in my mind.















Walking in heat

Falling in love w/the you in everyone

& longing, which is the better part of love

The distance so tangible, it feels

like a touch

that keeps me from alone long not long alone. The

you in everyone I have never had had

never known no never. Will never know

& that’s ok b/c longing

is the better part

of love










Listening to wind chime & bird chatter and cars going by. It sure feels good to be alive.

In a minutes, I’m going to wrap this up & take the kids out for ice cream. Maybe come back out on the porch later & write some more.

Oh, and – I got the job.















Chirping, I hope like a cricket – w/out wings. I can only fall. Hop. Skip. You say it is not the way you planned things. I say Fuck Your Plans.


The Tao of Bird argued about not wanting to take a shower for about 30 minutes this morning. Including yelling and name calling and tantrum throwing and many many many “I HATE YOU”‘s. Now he is in the shower. Has been for about 15 minutes. Singing away. Apparently never planning to come out.

Meanwhile, Buddha the grouch is still sleeping, I am listening to an Animal Collective song called Bees. The birds are singing. The sun is shining.

“Please Take Your Time…”

The song entreaties me. Entices me. Pleads with me.


I want to write more about my vacation, but today was an exceptionally good day, and rather than write about the then, I’d prefer to gush about the now.

I’ve been struggling lately. I mean…I’ve actually been struggling for awhile, but I do a pretty good job of managing my own personal struggles I think (I hope!) – but lately I’ve been struggling in a positive way – overcoming, is the word. I’ve been overcoming some of the residual imprints of struggling.

Overcoming seems to involve a lot of self-reflection. A lot of heavily guarded alone time. Sometimes to an extent where I wonder if it might be unhealthy for me to spend so much time alone, without really desiring the company of anyone else in particular. Not that I don’t love and adore my friends and loved ones…it’s just lately I seem to adore spending time by myself an awful lot more.

I sometimes worry that I don’t have the ability to deal with ever surrendering any tiny scrap of my autonomy to be in a relationship with another person…but I’m too busy not caring to worry about that for very long. Though I do have a corollary worry that my inability to surrender any tiny scrap of my autonomy will cause me to end up being bitterly alone when I’m too old to find someone who wants to surrender a tiny scrap of their autonomy for me.

Who knows. Maybe it’s just a phase.

What I haven’t been struggling with lately is being ridiculously appreciative of the gentle rhythm of my days, which is possibly WHY I’m feeling reluctant to risk losing control over them. I notice that I really seem to enjoy my job on a soul-nourishing level. It’s nice to help people all day. To be able to talk to them as a human being and solve their technical issues. I really enjoy people treating me like an authority on something. One of the first things I had to learn to do to succeed at my job was to eliminate my tendency towards humility when helping people with technology. I’m used to approaching people in an exploratory way, which works pretty good for training, but generally when you are calling tech support, you want someone to be a bit more authoritative. I’m really enjoying mixing both so I don’t come across as a know-it-all and intimidate people who just need a little nurturing. It’s actually not a bad way to spend 10 hours a day.

I’m also really happy with the habits I’ve formed around preparing and eating healthy, homemade meals all week, reading, getting some sort of exercise, and writing in my journal every day. It’s been awesome to have time to spend on myself. And while I have had weeks of getting sucked in to one TV series or another (most recently, Eureka, which actually gave me some of the most amazing dreams and, in spite of the fact that it was a pretty damn cheesy show (or maybe because of that) has me mourning the little world I lived in with all of those characters for a month or so.

I guess this is all sort of related to my vacation, because part of all of this is the fact that I’ve also been able to travel more – take more road trips – get out of town more. It’s something I feel I’ve been somewhat deprived of over the past few years. It’s really nice to be able to pick up and leave town for a bit. The endless rhythm of the tires on asphalt with trees and signs and other cars whishing by. The places my mind goes when there’s endless novel monotony all around me. My face focused forward, but watching the world peel by on either side. Tracking time by moon and sun and moon again. Driving. Driving. Driving. Being driven.


Photo by John Jack Anderson


Name Change. Because I accidentally typed “unruly mom” in an email, instead of “unruly mob”…and, miracle of miracles, for some reason no one has ever thought to snatch up the domain name until now.

I mean – it RHYMES *and* it’s a play on words.

So, that was something that made me happy after a rough couple of days.

I want to say things about love and friendship and how complicated it is to deal with conflicting feelings about depression and suicide.

Instead, I think I’ll just say a few words about family. Or, interchangeably to me, Community. Family is a concept I have struggled with all my life. I come from a large family, but they are not all my Community. It is an oddly mismatched group of people with a somewhat similar upbringing. As the youngest, I don’t feel like I ever really got to know my eldest family members all that well. As the half-sibling to all of my 6 siblings (3 with the same monther, 3 with the same father) I’ve always felt like both the outsider and the tie that binds.  Though I do remain in touch with some of my immediate family members, for whatever reason I’ve never been connected to my extended blood relatives. This could be why I spent much of my adolescence (and beyond) cultivating relationships that imitated family.

Now that I have children of my own, my lack of a solid connection with my larger family disturbs me. I worry my children have inherited this disconnection by default. I do my best to encourage them to be conscious of their connections, but I haven’t set a very good example, and I’m not much of a “do what I say, not what I do” kind of parent. So I try to compensate by committing to my Communities in a way that some people commit themselves to their families

To me, family is about staying connected to people even if you screw up. It’s about second chances, asking for forgiveness and fully expecting to be forgiving. It’s about being forced to learn to get along with people who might not agree with you, and being patient when you don’t agree with them. Sometimes it’s about setting boundaries and enforcing them. Sometimes it’s about giving in.

Today, I’m reminding myself that even family members make mistakes. Even familial love has its limits. Sometimes people need more than their immediate family. Sometimes they need an entire community. And sometimes it takes an extreme circumstance for family OR community to respond to the needs of its meekest members. Sometimes it’s just impossible to know thin the rope is until someone is hanging by the last strand.

I’m very glad I don’t have to talk about one specific family member in the past tense. I’m once again in awe of this community I have haphazardly become part of. A community that responds to a cry for help by organizing a people-powered dragnet to comb the city and rescue one of their own. A community that responds to a loss of hope by fully reinforcing the reason why we should have hope in the first place. A community of people who arrive in the nick of time. Maybe not precisely when we want them, but time and time again I see my community members…my Brothers and Sisters…get there EXACTLY when they are NEEDED.

This world is a scary place. I’ve lost too many loved ones to despair, and I don’t really care to lose more, though I certainly understand how one would get there. Today my brothers and sisters have restored my faith and hope in family and community – and the necessity of both. Thank you for providing the best of both worlds as an example for my children. Thank you for providing such a wonderful example of mutual aid and selflessness to anyone fortunate enough to witness it. ❤


Me: The birds look like apostrophes

Him: What are the words if the birds are apostrophes?

Several of us gathered today to say goodbye to a friend who passed away. We met at City Hall, where most of us originally entered one another’s lives. And we walked together to the tree on the other side of the river on which little medallions were pinned to mark the deaths of  others who, like our friend Chris, were houseless but not without friends in life or in death.

Several people told stories of their friendship with Chris. Universally, we agreed he was a gentle man. A quiet man. A man who forced us to slow down and think. And rethink. And as I listened, I realized I was not only mourning the loss of Chris, but also the loss of that time. That time when we all gathered several times a week to slow down, sit down…and talk. And listen. And plan together. And just to gather with a group of people from disparate backgrounds and experiences – a group of people who, under normal circumstances, might never get a chance to meet – and become aware of each other as fellow humans…and struggle together. And learn from each other. And totally fuck up in the presence of each other. And forgive each other. And try again.

I didn’t tell any stories today. Today, I listened. The truth is, I didn’t have a lot of stories to tell about Chris. I cared about him. I tried to look out for him the best I could. I respected his growth and his journey. I remember him.  I will miss him. But it’s not enough to miss someone like Chris. It’s not enough to mourn and be sad and go on living and forgetting all that I have learned through my friendship with Chris, and through all of the other unlikely companions I’ve been blessed to come to know over the past few years. There were so many lessons learned. So many I forgot. It’s time to remember them now. It’s time to come out of hibernation and be present in the world again, and open to listening and sharing and relating.

The things I have learned as an occupier are lessons I have needed to learn my whole life. And I’m not merely talking about social and economic justice. I’m talking about taking the time to really see people. To see AND hear them. Taking the time to be present in public spaces and share with people. I don’t think I’m done learning those lessons yet. I don’t think I’ve learned them well enough, and I think they are too easily forgotten. I still have a too-frequent tendency to hide myself away. To hurry from one thing to the next without stopping and giving time to appreciate the unexpected. I still frequently neglect the things that are most important while freely frittering time on things that have no soul-nutritional value.

This is how I know that Occupy is not dead. Because we haven’t learned these lessons yet. We are too easily distracted and divided. And until we can learn to come together and be present, we will continue to Occupy where we should be Living.

Rest in Peace, dear Chris. I hardly knew you, but I certainly loved you. In honor of your memory, I plan to spend at least an hour every Sunday occupying the steps of City Hall with my sketchbook and journal. People watching, and hopefully conversing. Maybe I’ll bring a sign…maybe I’ll go incognito. It’s not 3 General Assemblies a day, every day…but it’s something. Maybe I’ll see you there.

Today’s Mantra, while taking my second Eucalyptus-infused shower in less than 24 hours in hopes of clearing my allergy-ridden nose:

Ritual abandon, chaotically enacted with surgical precision.

I am engaging in a project-based mini, semi-vacation within a tiny bit more of a vacation. Otherwise Known As 24 entire hours (plus!) without having to be in the presence of another human being. But my time is drawing to a close. Soon, ruckus will once again descend upon the house, but it will dissipate and a quieter ruckus will ensue. And just that near silent-hum that exists as a background noise whenever there is another person in the house with you, capable of interrupting the quiet at any given moment. Most of a time that is a pleasent hum. Sometime – it’s just nice to muffle it for a day.

I spent my time well. Forced, as I was, to succumb to a mostly horizontal plane of existence due to aforementioned leaky nose and the irresistible allure of lethargy. I’ve been organizing my data. Pushing around bits and bytes from one storage format to another. Sifting through images, music, writing – things of my past that have been stored in various formats throughout my life. Organizing it. Analyzing it. Contemplating it. This life in pixels.

I create systems while I work. Systems of efficiency. Systems of reward. Systems to prevent me from becoming bored. And, while working, I watch – or listen – or create in between bouts of “productivity.” Appreciating the progress. Enjoying the process. Knowing there is a beginning, middle, and forseeable end to this project…makes for a very satisfying few days of laze and precious solitudinous haze.

What are you waiting for?

Dispatches from old journals – various years and locations in the January New Year/Birthdayish time frame…

“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.” -e. e. cummings


Him: Are you still in love with the universe?

Me: Quite

Him: I think you are in love with ME.

Me: You ARE part of the universe

Last night, I dreamed about a zombie apocalypse. Lots of running & hiding. I found J in my dream, and we teamed up and found a way out.

I called J today to tell him. He thought it was funny. What I didn’t tell him is that we made out in the dream. Towards the end, I remember what his kisses felt like. They were hard and thin of lip.

Discuss, discuss, DIS-GUS. Discusting.

I’m living in an alternate reality. An alternating duality, fresh from free modality. Sensitive in its design, by nature. Designed. Maligned by creature comforted by none. Rewire. Rewire. Retire.

So chaos comes rolling in. Roiling. A haphazard retrofit toiling. Group gorilla going. Left hand albatross flowing. Supine supine never mind realign.

I am crossing over, crossing back. Redesigning, keeping slack. Semi-automatic, semiotic plague. Plaguing me. Reprobating me. <Sending Leave intimidating me.> I am rock, flowing, water. I am rock of disaster. I am missed opportunity. I am endless hegemony. Instituting harmony. Refill refine ignominy. Endless ever after.

This journey I have traveled. Will require. Will require. Will require…and equation. Forming mandibled collusion. Replace heaven with contusion. Inevitable confusion.

Pistachios in bed and Cherry Dr. Pepper. My hands are covered w/eggplant paint. I can’t figure out what’s wrong with my toilet. And it’s a new year. I hope it’s a good one.

“I’m in love with my walls” -Lester Bangs

He said one day all the walls will fall & it will be just us.

One day all the walls will fall & it will be justice.

~One day. Falling walls. Just us.~

One. Falling Us.

Just Us.



The 1st hr of my

kid & housemate independence,

I made a plan to be productive

The 2nd hour was spent buying


Which began w/organizing

furniture and ended

in potato chips & soda pop

The 3rd hour was spent

laughing w/a friend

The 4th spent @ home

eating an extra cheesy

grilled chz sandwich

and watching yesterday’s

PBS News Hour,

and writing in my journal

in sharpie marker

w/out first having had to

tell anyone, “I’m writing in

my journal…please don’t

disturb me

for 30 minutes

and retreating to my


And locking the door

And flopping on the bed

And beginning to write




(being interrupted.)

I scratch daily words on paper. How trite to describe my life the way I have. A million pages of reverie – just to see what sticks. Last year was the year of meta. The overarching. Sans details, nuances tell a story. This year will be the year of micro vs. macro. I will take small things. I will practice the art of magnification. I can’t be contained.

The thing is

that it is such a

long rope

and such a

velvet noose

You don’t even realize

you are choking

until you are

well, well, well, well



I know what I want for my birthday and I will never get it and the worst thing is that it’s probably best that I not.


The way the world turns bokeh when I’m lying in bed staring at a sunlit tree until it breaks down to the smallest elements. Dots and lines and bark and vibrations.


My boyfriend knows the Dewey Decimal system. He tells me to stop watching television and go to the library. He says to go to the 811 section & find a random book of poetry. He recites to me with sweet voice and joy-brimmed eyes while his strong hands bring me to the edges of lucidity.


There’s something about the deconstruction and the reconstruction. The pulling things apart, re-mapping, and putting back together. My mind wants to hurry through process and get to product as quickly as possible. Counting minutes even still as the days linger into one another, leaning casually back into the day before as they tiptoe forward.


“Sociability is a big smile, and a big smile is nothing but teeth.” -Jack Kerouac


I create to show appreciation for all of the beauty that surrounds me.

I create to rebel against that which is ugly.

I create to practice presence. To slow down and enlarge that which is too fast or too small. To speed up and reduce that which is too small or too complex.

I create in hopes of leaving a piece of myself behind that means something to someone.

I create because I’m bored.

I create because I can’t help myself.

I create because I’m in love with my life, and I want to share it with others.

I create because I am creative.

I create.

Had a lovely few days off there. Really took lots and lots of time to just relax, slowly accomplishing in the most inefficient way possible. Luxuriating in time and (mostly) solitude. Oh, it was great. And so very apparently exactly what I needed.

I spent some time setting my intentions for the new year, and thinking about where I was last year. I have a lot of things to be thankful for. Last year I was stressed out about my job – knowing I would probably be getting laid off soon, and not feeling like I had a lot of control over it. And, really, not feeling very happy in the role. I found myself fondly remembering my days at Kinko’s because at least there I had a sense of camaraderie among my co-workers & relatively little spite and competition. I craved a kind of teamwork in my workplace that I wasn’t getting where I was. And though my layoff was way more sudden and unexpected than I expected, I was almost instantly relieved to be ending that phase of my life, and I was lucky enough to  have another job that I was pretty certain I would get, with that glorious 2 month cushion of funemployment. I’m so thankful that unemployment for me wasn’t a neverending ordeal, as it is for so many very qualified people in the workforce. And at the end of it all, I now have a job that, yes, pays less – but saves so much more in so many other ways. Mostly just preserving my creative energy for things that matter. I have more time now, without a commute or other necessary components of leaving the house for work. I’m here for the kids, whether any of us like it or not (hahaha), and eating lunch from home means less convenience foods and more cooking for me. It’s truly been a blessing for me. I read for at least an hour a day most days. I NEVER had time for reading before this year. Or I never made time.

In the coming year, I want to continue to read daily, and to also spend more time writing and creating. I want to continue to be sure my worklife doesn’t envelope my non-work life. I want to live as modestly as possible and enjoy the lack of stress for awhile, and to not be in a huge hurry to seek out promotions and advancements Pacing, pacing, pacing. Gaining something almost always requires that you lose something else. Be sure to weight the loss with the gain.

I’m also really happy about how well the kids handled the transitions this year. This time last year, I was forced to concede to put the Tao of Bird into public school, in spite of the fact that he’d been homeschooled since birth. It was agreed to allow Buddha the Grouch to continue to homeschool, but the plan has always been for him to take dual-credit courses. Though it was very frustrating to have my choices for the children, not to mention the hard work I have put into ensuring they had an enriching learning environment here at home, drawn into question in spite of the fact that the boys are academically successful in every. single. measurable. way. – I’m so very proud of both of my boys for continuing to make adjustments to accommodate the things we are unable to control. I’m incredibly thankful for those two resilient, strong, and intelligent young men.

13 years ago or so, after I gave birth to the Tao of Bird, my ex asked me if I regretted that I didn’t have any girls. I looked him straight in the eyes and I said “No. I really think the universe is trying to correct something here.”

So far…knock on wood…I feel like that is likely the case.

In the coming year, I want to continue to give both of the boys the space to become who they will be, and trust that they have the tools to become great men. To accept that they won’t always do things the way I want them to do them, and they might actually even fail at something. Or maybe even their definitions of failure might differ from mine, and I should allow them to be the judges of their own success.

I’ve met some amazing people this year. And while the circumstances that brought us all together weren’t always very happy, my life has been greatly enriched by the acquaintances – nascent and ongoing, brief and long-lasting alike. I’m proud of and grateful for a community of people who continue to struggle to achieve social justice.

In the coming year, I would like to continue to meet amazing superheroes. ❤ And to nurture my relationships with those I already know. As well as, always, taking good care of myself and making sure I have enough time to recharge in precious solitude.

Tangible goals are no fun, but I have some this year: at least 3 issues of the zine – perhaps distributed digitally. That’s the only one I have, or at least the only one I have quantified. I should probably set some other goals, but the zine one is the only one that sounds remotely fun, so I’ll just ignore the other ones. For now.

Other goals: Srsly…I want to learn to play an instrument (damnit) – but I don’t know how I will fit that in; Continue walking daily – maybe even more than I am now; REALLY NEED A GOOD ROAD TRIP – MAYBE IN THE SUMMER…MAAAAAAAYBE SPRING BREAK; continue weekly cooking/family dinner night; plz I can have a decent garden this year…

I love you
far from the shotgun and the cage,
this is the way
I love you,
Pable Neruda

This day, last year. Out of my head. I posted an ad on Craigslist that read: Looking for a wacky sidekick. Please don’t send a picture of your dick.

Amidst the dozens of dick pics, this:

How are you at zen gardening?  Can you sing? Pelt windows with pebbles?What do you typically wear on a camping trip?

Reason I ask is, if your going to be someones sidekick, ya got to know a few things. How to stitch a mexican wrestling mask, where to find 4 pints of o negative at 5 am, ( $126), how to palm and dupe a key with a cut of soft soap and a pocket knife, the proper care and feeding of a pony, chords and lyrics for several mariachi songs, the proper steps for chanoyu of how to count the numer of intersections crossed while riding blindfolded in the trunk of a cat, how to sharpen a lance, repair windmill damage, to drink from the very belly button of life….to be; that belly button

Star gazing.

Delighted, I replied:

At this point in time, I’m not incredibly adept at zen anything. I can sing if you have earplugs, and that won’t stop me if I like you enough. I prefer to leave windows alone, they never did anything to me. I typically wear pajamas on any trip, as much as possible. I’ll leave the stitching and the blood finding to you, but I do know how to care for a pony. Can you teach me to play the ukelele? I’ve never been in the trunk of a cat before. What’s that like? Windmills, like windows, are best left unmolested. I prefer to drink from dimples, and be drunk from

Star gazing.
And so on…leading to a night of post-curfew park-invading as a first date. A solstice spent alternating shivering, skygazing, and sexing in crystalline campsite air. Valentine’s day poetry reading..and the longest shortest most dynamic relationship I’ve ever had. A blessing and a curse. A wonder and a catastrophe. It was surprise foot rubs in restaurants and jail support, library love letter scavenger hunts (Tucked in among Neruda’s “Ode to Birdwatching” (“from a throat (of time) smaller than a finger”)) and midnight manic bedroom Karaoke and millions of ADD conversations, the day we agreed to say nothing, and the night you made me read Grapes of Wrath (“I didn’t tell you you could stop.”) while you leafed through my pages, hikes in woods and amazement and dread. Overwhelming, but ultimately tragic. With an ending so abrupt I got whiplash, though months later I was thankful for the clean break. Knowing now what I didn’t know then. I was spared the gory details. I got the beauty and the light. The dimple and the bellybutton. I got windows pelted with pebbles. I got a true wacky sidekick.
Or maybe I was the wacky sidekick.
Either way, I still think of him fondly, even though I never learned to play mandolin or ukulele.
Happy anniversary to the one that (thankfully) got away. Thanks…for everything.
Yr innie.
***This story deserves a rewrite, or at least an addendum. More than sidekick, more like kick in the side, the unwritten/unridden tide. The love of my life in the blink of an eye. All the words you said to me flash back like back lash like climbing to the top of that hill, in the days I had to remind myself of your gentle reassurance as a pinch to be sure this was real. It was real, right? Because of, or in spite. Your two wrongs made us not right (I’ll stop myself before I use the word “delight.”) Our orchestra became lullabye became jazz became dirge, with middle of the night ecxtatic crescendos throughout. It was the runaway train of my existence. Proving once and for all that eternity has its place. Prompting me to write:

Usually my relationships die like Elvis

on the toilet.

This one

Kurt Cobained – offing itself

before it had a chance to become what it swore it never would be.


…I still miss him, but I’m glad he’s gone.