bianca called me and said, im coming over. it was the first time we slept in the same bed after beginning our love affair.
it wasnt ever a question. it was a certainty.
now there is no certainty, only questions.
song of the day
first song i heard today when i woke up. its almost 8:30 am. im addicted to words with friends, an online scrabble game. its good for my emotional OCD/autism/ridiculousness.
i was listening to NPR on the ride over here, and all the talk is of another war in the middle east. growing up in the 80s and 90s, id never thought id see so many wars in my lifetime. ive watched the contra war, the gulf war, the war in iraq, the war in afghanistan, and now who knows… maybe iran? or god knows where else.
it sometimes makes me want to ask my dad what it was like to watch vietnam, the first truly televised war. to hear his thoughts.
killing has become second nature to us all. we dont seem shocked by it. my friend laura said she went on a run the other night, with her dog, through her neighborhood in far east austin, and shes a cute little white girl, and some guys started harassing her as she went by and then chasing her. she got away, but she posted this on facebook. somebody’s first comment was: buy a gun to shoot them!
ill admit, im not adverse to the idea of having a gun. its security. false perhaps. but after the murder of esme, its become a prevalent thought in my mind. and i wondered if id be able to use it under stress. im pretty calm in duress. im able to detach and step out of the situation and remain calm. most of the time.
but i thought about the other night, when we went to the galaxy, my favorite theatre, and i was playing big game hunter, as i normally do when i go there, and i was at the bonus stage, shooting targets, when suddenly a guy started harassing me as he walked by, calling me a bad shot and trying to get under my skin. i lost concentration and missed every target during the round. when i was done, i turned around, furious, and told him to not be such an asshole. he had already walked by, and i think he was shocked by me saying anything, he stopped and stared at me. i was so mad. these last two weeks, my temper has been off the radar. lots of things get me mad. i know its stress and all the stuff going on with bianca. but still. i lost my cool. and what if i had a real gun?
i am getting nervous
thinking about getting to meet james baldwin. to sit in the same room as him. i am geeking out over this. this whole month has been emotionally draining. every second of a good thing is much appreciated.
especially friday. that will be what would have marked our first anniversary. a landmark date for both of us.
instead. well there is the instead. the one without you and me.
the idea of a soul mate is cheesy i know… but there is no other way to explain us. twin souls. split up. nothing ever made sense. except us on an island. in the real world, another story, but on our quiet walks together…
february, you bring me joy and pain, for as long as i have been alive.
the practice of mindfulness
it says: really try to be there, for yourself, for life, for the people that you love. recognize the presence of those who live in the same place as you and try to be there when one of them is suffering, because your presence is so precious for this person.
its talking about you. its talking about me. its talking about all of us. its what i told you about movements. about relationships. about friendships.
ive decided to get a tattoo. im a bit afraid of this, but my mind is set on it. one more step in evolution.
an invitation to an execution (and not a beheading)
the spirit of the writer has not left me. i have not been left for dead just yet. maybe i am like meursault the character in the stranger, when he sits in that prison cell, waiting to be executed, and all of a sudden, he sees the sky through a small hole, and its suddenly like he sees life for the first time.
i felt that way today, while riding the bus home. its like i saw people again for the first time. i saw motion and action and bodies and people, like seeing them in colors, and not just everything blurred together. i felt warm and i felt alert even though i am really sleepy.
i feel.
the poet yawned and prodded me to watch the people come and go, talking of michelangelo.
i got home and found out that the fiction editor of the texas observer emailed me personally and invited me to submit another story for this year’s contest. he said he looked forward to reading something new from me.
uh…. okay. better write something new then. just like seeing life again for the first time in awhile.
its raining novacane
so UT is goin to the supreme court (again), to decide if basing admission on race is legal. i have my own personal issues with affirmative action, but… this country…
i am on day #2 of a 5 am wake up to be @ work for another ten hour day. tomorrow is day #3, but @ least i have dinner to look forward to. and i started writing again. like writing writing, not just writing love letters or blog posts about my love life.
notes from the duval:
the way we ride the bus is the way we ride our lives lucky us there are stops on the way, on every corner, least north and south, its not possible east and west… its harder to go somewhere than to go nowhere.
do you have time to love?
i read through the little book called true love, by the vietnamese monk. i sat on the porch, listening to music, smoking a cigar from the DR, drinking port, and reading about how to achieve love through mindfulness.
i felt as if i were reading letters to a young poet. it had that kind of impact on me. it became one of those experiences, the kind of experience with something you read that transforms your whole being, mind and body.
Dog sat curled in my lap. i called maribel and read her one of the most important parts.
“the past is no longer there, the future is not yet here, there is only one moment in which life is available, and that is the present moment.” -buddha
im not saying im buddhist or anything, but damn. such a simple idea. such a beautiful idea.
the most important piece i gleaned was this mantra: dear, i am really here for you.
no matter what. i do have time to love.
and then i remember i dont live in a post racial post homophobic society
walkin Dog through my hood this evening, we passed down comal street, me pushing aside spiderwebs in my head, and Dog happily trotting next to me. i had my earbuds in, but turned low enough to hear the street noise and the call of the announcer of the UT game. all of a sudden something clattered in front of me on the sidewalk, and all i could echoing against the dimming sunlight was the words fucking faggot. i looked around and saw a crushed beer can in the grass.
i turned my jacket collar up tighter, turned up the volume of my IPOD, and kept walking. i though about malcolm x watching his murderer walk up to him. i wonder what he thought about before he was shot.
You and me together
I’m going to sit in on a conversation with James baldwin this weekend @ my friends house. I am delighted.
Letter to my bleeding angel
Today is day one of three straight days of 6 am to 4 pm. I woke up with my heart on fire, like so many days when I hear from bianca. It just hurts. And all I want to do is clean the blood off her wings.
