!!!!!!!!!!!

tell me something anonymously:

a secret,

something that troubles you,

something you've never told anyone else,

what you're afraid of,

something you want to say to someone but you struggle to (including me, if i make that list),

the thing or person that makes you feel most alive,

what breaks your heart,

the scariest thing you've ever done,

what makes you happy,

who you love,

and on and on.

p.s. might be triggering around death / substance (ab)use / bodies after death / blood / broken bones.

three and a half deaths

1. the spin

the witnesses would say later
that it was one of the greatest
escapes,

one of the most fantastic capers,

died doing what he loved,

the way the shoulders
pitched tents of red
motor-oil slickness,
salted by windshield glass,
the way the
scapula grew wings,
rolled die bets against
the skin,
airlifted the tiny
sliver gap between
the neck and spine
to let breaths
escape from
every pore they
could find. you'd think
the more the air exhaled
the better,
but sometimes i guess,
i guess
that if you let too much out
maybe
there isn't anything left.


2. holiday inn

we were eating the free breakfast
in the lobby, the great escape
from spinning distance between us.
an adventure, you said,
a getaway. i caked a mountain of salt
on the dried yellow eggs,
stung the pores on my tongue
like i imagine the way you said
heroin feels. i think about that all the time:
what it feels like, like you said,
to feel every pore on your body
in sharp focus as if in the crosshairs
of something. every pore screaming.
when i look at you sniffing
the sugary cranberry juice
like a bloodhound, i feel
like there are crosshairs on my
forehead, on my shoulders,
on my back, neatly woven
into the grill of pubic hair.
someone's shooting. shooting up,
shooting at, shooting into.

3. the waiting room

"bleeding into the brain," you said.
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i shouuuuld be writing a paper, butttt...

i miss you, jay.

--

in celebrating-life news, i'm dogsitting tomorrow for a week; kate got me a violin FOR FREE from craigslist to help celebrate music, which she says seems like is something that keeps me alive (which is true); and i've been on testosterone for 2 months and can still sing. yes.

Thinking 'Bout Somethin'

HANSON | MySpace Music Videos

this just made me so happy.

eli and i are working on a zine about people's relationships with their chests! it focuses specifically on trans* experiences, but cisfolks are welcome to submit, too.

please feel free to circulate widely.

( more .. about chests.Collapse )

HAUNTING THE SELF

i was just sorting through boxes of my stuff, and i found several CDs jay, my friend who committed suicide two years ago, burned for me of music and movies from our freshman year of college. i have almost nothing with his handwriting on it, and it's sort of jarring to have these relics sitting in my lap.

the CDs he gave still aren't anything that i feel overly excited about in terms of content -- a nine inch nails mix and a creepy, excessively-violent japanese horror movie -- nor was i excited about either of these things when he gave them to me, but he wanted me to have them anyway. and that was so jay: i think he viewed himself as a selfless person, maybe even a giver -- and he really did have a big, raw, deeply-empathic heart, which i think is part of what brought him so much suffering -- but he often seemed to give things without asking, or to give things that were based in his interests and not necessarily an honest reading of the other person, their wants, their likes. i think the things he seemed to give were things he wished others would give him.

sometimes his compassion was perfect, more than i would expect any human being to carry in their hearts. ( the summer between freshman and sophore years...Collapse )

the paradox of bootstraps

change is the cornerstone of this kingdom.
my surrender flag whiteknuckled,
i'm kneedeep in the quicksand moat, in the muck
like where rasputin's eyes unlit and his mouth
erupted the last brown bubbles.
a death rattle:
mothers, fathers are eyedeep and sinking, holding their moses
babies over their heads, an offering
to self-appointed gods, the human service,
thin black baby hairs curled
like a signature annointing relinquishment and blame.
the self-appointed
leave behind the children that are
at the meter of survival out of coins,
take the babies that drive
the profit margin higher,
dole out dollar values that decrease with difference

but it's
for the welfare of the children:
for the welfare of the diagnosed and stigmatized:
for the welfare of the Deaf, hard of hearing, blind, in wheelchairs:
for the welfare of the invisible difference:
for the welfare of the people of color:
for the welfare of the poor:
for the welfare of the intersex:
for the welfare of the queer:
for the welfare of the trans folk:
for the welfare of the glass-ceilinged:
for the welfare of the pagans:
for the welfare of the HIV-positive:
for the welfare of the uninsured:
for the welfare of the immigrating:
for the welfare of the homeless:
for the welfare of the drug users:
for the welfare of the forgotten:
for the welfare of the pregnant:
for the welfare of the imprisoned:
for the welfare of the dying:
for the welfare of the sex workers:
for the welfare of those bloodied by violence:
for the welfare of the young and old:
for the welfare of the war-afflicted:
for the welfare of intersectionality:
for the et al, the lump sum of marginalization


i say
what the fuck do you know about our welfare?
fare fucking well to the violent sexist
able-bodied straight(/gay) rich white terrorizing alms
donated by the pity power of
the righteous across the moat
holding their leather bags,
their red dimes
building fortresses too tall to see over
around my queer,
my poor, my transient body,
beaten so that it swells beyond its seams.
fare fucking well when you
watch me drown in the moat you dug,
when you
beg me shame and adherence to bullshit rules
in exchange for lifting my legs
out of the moatmuck
that is concrete hardened, concrete
that you laid for trapping.

This is one of the best articles I've read on this topic, with the exception of the use of the word "handicapped" instead of "dis/(dis)/differently-abled."



Racism 101 for Clueless White People, Written by a Slightly Less Clueless White Person
By Robin F. // tamago23

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and an example of how messy my old apartment was. compelling narration brought to you by b.o.i. sha.



i am so glad for all the people that i know. seriously.

i think i would like someone to buy me this as a labor day present.

speaking of present, i remembered this morning to be present in my own life and commit to and communicate my truths and my needs.

i had coffee with dvigesh and his ladyfriend this morning. i'm so glad nate is back. his poems/poetry/brain/friendship/existence shake up my poems/poetry/brain/friendship/existence in a way that is a little inexplicable.

i miss jacques and mollie and vinny so much.

also my lips are chapped, i'm out of cigarettes, and the best thing that happened to me all day so far was driving into town and feeling the fall sunshine.

and i am wearing a sweatervest today and sweatervests are very much a reason to live.

i've been trying to figure out lately what "home" means to me.

so tell me -- what does home mean for you? where is home? who is home?

BALLAD OF T.D. BANKNORTH, INC.
     for Student Checking Account #9021086753

I. Haiku against leprechauns

Ten-digit keeper
of my gold: Please don't be charmed
by glinting grins.

II. Haiku for descending into darkness

Please do not dock me
$25 per transaction
if I overdraw.

III. Haiku for the mighty temptress

You won't seduce me
with promise of kissing with
tongue, Savings Account.

IV. Haiku instructional to identity thieves

Account number list-
ed above will not lead you
to the promised land.

A conversation in an entry I wrote a week ago or so spawned this poll. Please remember that answers are visible to all, and you can feel free to skip any questions or comment about anything here :)

rainy summer days.

( painted floors, cats in boxesCollapse )

now that that's over and done with: damn it, i really need some spooning and hand-holding in my life. and cute first kisses. let's go, life.

summer resolutions:

1. give more selflessly. take only what i need.
1b. communicate without intending to commit deliberate hurt to anyone else.
2. love more fully, especially myself.
3. learn ani's "independence day" in full.
4. write a song with a complex guitar part.
5. habla y/o lee español cada día, especialmente cosas que parezca más díficil. ve películas con subtitulos en español todo el tiempo.
6. commit to vulnerability.
7. learn more music theory. retrieve my flute from my parents' house.
8. eat healthier. run more.
9. get my car's intake manifold repaired.
10. self-care, self-care, self-care.
11. start working on non-fiction writing.