Friday, March 31, 2006

"Here Comes Dr. Tran!"

I'm not a moccodity!!

[Point of clarification: this is an old video clip that's made the rounds for quite some time ago. I saw it for the first time about a year or so ago and I'm just tickled to have it back.]

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

It's times like this

that I'm thankful to be single.

Yesterday, I woke up from a dream that I had the voice of a lawnmower, with a horribly sore throat. That is to say, that when I woke I had a horribly sore throat, but not because of beasties that have taken advantage of my rainy, late night, existential commune with peace and sanity. No. It was because I'd fallen asleep in this absurd position, sort of hanging over the the edge of my pillow, on my back. Essentially, with my head cocked back. Remember those CPR classes we all had to take in highschool, where you tipped the creepy latex mannequin's head back to open the passageway? That position.

And the dream about the lawnmower voice and my sore throat? S-N-O-R-I-N-G. Full tilt, open mouthed, you only see this in movies and church, head back, lusty gusto snoring.

Can't beat that, my friends. No way, no how.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Same as it ever was... #2

So, my mom sent me a joke earlier this week involving a horse, a chicken and a Harley and a punchline (sorry, you can email me if you actually want the joke) about how one doesn't need a Harley when they're hung like a horse.

It was somewhat clever and I got a snicker out of it and told her as much.

This is her reply:


Many people I hesitate sending such things. However, (not but!) for a four year old that is over heard saying: "A duck for a fuck, a fuck for a duck and $25.00 for a fucked up duck..."
well, I guess it's OK.
Can you imagine how surprised I was to overhear you saying that to yourself?
XOX

*cough*

Hi.

[But, holy crap, even though I can't remember the rest of the joke, that punchline still makes me laugh.]

My circus train pulls through the night

Full of lions and trapeze artists
I'm done with elephants and clowns
I want to
Run away and join the office
-American Car, Mike Doughty

When it rains, it pours. Or hails and gusts and thunders, as the case may be. The outer tempest an angsty reflection of inner turmoil, frustration and pain.

Sometimes, however, you find yourself standing on a deserted downtown corner at 1:15 am in the driving rain of a warm spring storm; last train missed, busses nowhere, not a cab in sight. Too wet to bother trying to keep dry, watching the sheets of rain undulate and swirl down the street, then through the intersection, an odd tranquility, a quiet ease sort of slides up and settles around you. Though soaked - rain dripping off of your nose and chin, running down your back, filling your boots - it occurs to you not that everything will be ok, but that everything is really just fine.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

"If you need me,

I can always be found..."
(qt vid) via

Vivid dreams

Yesterday, I found out that a fellow poster on MeCha is a sleep researcher/psychologist and I offered to write down and email some of my current dreams to him. So last night, or rather in the wee hours of the morning, when I awoke to briefly reassure myself that I hadn't slipped into some alternate universe involving independent wealth and life on a sub tropical island with a personal sushi chef, I groggily described the dream I'd been having:

work, table staird nokkks expooding swick T DON'T CRAZY PEOPE

run

Seems par for the course, no? When I'm not filling in spaces with soap as I drift of to sleep, I'm yelling about 'crazy peope' and running in my dreams.

[But the best part of those notes is I can remember exactly what happen. Heh. Who's crazy now?]

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Hello, cruel world, I love you

I found my laugh again today.

In a moment of sorting through the Whisky Tango Foxtrot of the past several days that have spanned from the personal to the professional to fire hydrants issuing me stern lectures in my sleep, I felt it start to tickle in my stomach and rise up to slow chuckle and then a real honest to goodness laugh. Not the "ahaha, you made a funny" laugh, but a lean back and let it roll response to the absolute absurdity of everything. The kind of laugh that leaves you with an easy contented grin and a sigh of quiet satisfaction. One that, quite frankly, I've missed for the last few weeks.

There's no denying that none of us are getting out of this thing alive, but I can guarantee you this: some of us will go down laughing.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Radio silence

So.

I've been going over last will and testament details with my mother for much of the week. DNR's, Final Directives, etc. A wise and necessary activity, but one full of so much sadness and grief. I'm not much of an escapist but sometimes you just want to turn it off for a while, you know? And this is rife with many old wounds: she has been suicidal my entire life, filled with so much despair. A sometimes constant cycle of deep black periods followed by the usual laundry list of methods/attempts.

Work has been blessedly busy (though last Saturday, I was so tired, I overlsept and MUNI ran late and I was late to work by 15 minutes even after jumping off and taking a cab...grrrr.) but even the brief respite has a backlash as I start feeling light and forget to ignore the big elephant in the room or something happens to trigger a memory and I'm momentarily blindsided.

She ruefully signed off her last letter with the observation that life is a 'series of hellos and goodbyes' I wanted to yell at her, asking, "But how many times should you have to say goodbye to the same damned person?" It's not like it gets to be old hat or something. As breezy as I am, it doesn't hurt any less, it still cuts to my core. Every. Fucking. Time. But you just don't say that kind of stuff to someone whose soul has been tormented by demons and pain you can never fathom, never want to fathom, though you see it writ in every tired line on their face and resignated shift of their prematurely aged body. You just don't.

You don't remind them of the 'false alarms' of terminal diseases before, where they led you on for weeks, sometimes months. You don't out of compassion and out of the knowledge that every breath is one closer to the brutal and incomprehensible fact that someday that end will be very real. Most of all, you don't say this to someone who is now too tired and broken to even fight for death as life has now, finally, succeeded in teaching them to wait. Day after pain filled day and one day that breath will be the last. And religious and philosophical speculation aside, there are no do overs. One day the proverbial wolf will be there and Peter will die.

This is inevitability in its purest form.

I wrote this several years ago; it's funny how some things just don't change:


The Anatomy of Grief

Consider now the anatomy of grief.
The heartbeat dead stop
swell to burst and
buck in the chest.
Breathe deep to alleviate this
sudden
leaden
free
fall,
but only succeed in the
gulp
gasp
choke.
Stomach working a syncopated rhythm with the lungs.
Feel the body shudder and shake
no that's not what I meant
that's not what I need
grasp
grope
Reaching for something, anything,
to refute this.
Hands shaking
dropping items once so easily held.
The sound of breaking glass
is beautiful.
Knees buckling beneath the weight of a
reality that comes crashing down around me.

Could I turn this gaping wound in my soul
into a suckling mouth that would
draw forth life and strength from the universe?
Shoot oblivion like heroin
into the heart of this pain.
Could I, for one blessed minute,
reconstruct a time and a place
where all ends were tied
and everything made sense again?
Could I, for just one moment,
bridge the distance between
pleasure and pain
past and present
sanity and mayhem?
Pretending that you were still only
a phone call away,
to immerse myself in the passionate love
beneath all of your bitter words.
Hold you close to me just once more.
Flesh of my flesh
blood of my blood,
knowing my own past and present in your breath.
But the only thing I can do
and keep repeating I love you
I love you
IloveyouIloveyou
GODDAMNIT, I FUCKING LOVE YOU
as I pray this love will see me through.
And hold this love so tightly
as once I held you.
__________________________________

So.