all the bullshit

today, i feel like grad school isn't right for me. all the bureaucracy, all the bullshit, people speaking in code. that's not what i want. i just want to carve out my own little world of peace and happiness and love. every time i get close to "re-entering society," i have so much anxiety and that quickly turns into depression and a catatonic-like paralysis. i'm so tired of this cycle. i make myself sick with it.

i need to stop thinking about the big picture and just focus on the day in front of me. it's disgusting outside, so what can i do inside that's healthy for me? maybe some yoga. maybe play some ping pong. blogging is a good start. finish reading dewey. go for a run on the treadmill. take a hot bath. play rock band with s.

but i just want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over me and try to make the anxiety go away.

bullshit image

close to home

i couldn't sleep last night. not really sure why. kept waking up suddenly as if i hadn't been sound asleep. so i played some word warp and when that didn't make me fall asleep, i started researching the master's in education program at stony brook. i recently applied for the NYCTF (new york city teaching fellows) program, interviewed, and i am now waiting to hear back. they have a great package: a partially subsidized master's degree, no GREs to get into the program, a seven-week intensive training session, and immediate placement in a school. the downside for me is that you teach in nyc. i don't have an issue with the location whatsoever. it's simply the commute. i can't imagine commuting two hours each way to a new and challenging job while studying for a master's degree. and s and i have decided wholeheartedly that we don't want to move back to brooklyn. so i thought perhaps i should look into programs near me in suffolk. the only issue with that is i will be hemmoraging money. if i can pull myself together to complete the application, get three personal references, take the GREs, and find the money to pay for all this, i think it would be the best option for me. i need to be close to home for now. i know that much.

commuting image

flight or fight

like a dog with no concept of time
staring out the window, waiting for her owner
to come home;
it’s an instinct like flight or fight.

she loved me less than one would love a dog.
who would leave a dog waiting forever?
but dogs never win.
they are the first to be eaten on a failed expedition
they are put to work, put to sleep, put outside,
made to serve a purpose.
as the owner sees fit.
and then when the purpose is obsolete.
the cuddliness and softness of the fur is expendable.
the dog can be put down,
and the secrets whispered with quivering lips will die with it.
even the guilt.

love is cruel in the darkness of cages.
time no longer exists and sad, wise eyes
stay fixed on unconditional thoughts.

but even dogs give up sometimes.
they let go and give up eating, drinking.
heart broken, the beating stops.
with no purpose, they willingly let go.

© november 2005

sex should be like eating

she told me last night.
something that we just do—
which is exactly the opposite
from the way she touched me.

magnetic electrical impulses
begin in my arm and shock like a current through
my chest
into my stomach sinking it

down like the hollow empty hull of a ship
that floats in the water
allowing the balance of buoyancy
to keep the rest of the vessel afloat.

Buoyancy that is the tugging of equal forces

gravity pulling down
and captured air that will
never stop
trying to escape.

And yet the air is released in my breath, on her neck
in her mouth.
for a moment the balance is skewed
until another shock fills me again.

this is not like eating.
something we just do because we have to.
because it tastes good.
even because we love it.

sex is like language,
creating each sentence
reaching out and hoping that meaning is found
words meeting words

language by definition

we define ourselves
sculpting with our hands, our lips
carving down the spine
through the stomach, into the heart

© october 2007
buoyancy diagram
language image

i forgot my blueberries

s showed me a really cool widget on the iphone called howcast. it tells you how to do pretty much everything. the howcast that i particularly enjoyed was "how to improve your memory" because i constantly feel like a dumbass, partially due to depression, partially to meds, and partially because i didn't know about all these ways you can improve your memory.

here are the materials you will need:

a puzzle game
purple (not white) organic concord grape juice
rosemary or sage
aerobic exercises
catnaps
relaxation techniques
an active social life
blueberries

puzzle games like crosswords, soduku, and word warp keep your brain active. 8 oz of grape juice a day improves memory by 20% (organic grape juice has 40% more anti-oxidents). rosemary or sage stimulates the memory center of the brain. aerobic exercise brings oxygen to the brain and builds new cells in the brain region linked to memory. people who take catnaps retain twice as much a day. relaxation techniques reduce stress (stress activates an enzyme that impairs short term memory). an active social life sharpens concentration and memory. and a handful of blueberries a day contain enough of a chemical that improves memory.

also, memorizing on an empty stomach is best for retaining memory because a hormone that helps memory is highest.

and moving your eyes from side to side for 30 seconds every morning improves memory by ten percent because you're improving the communication between left and right hemispheres.

and how did i remember all of this?? i wrote it down... booyakacha.

"center of brain" image

i am a snuggle-loving motherfucker

i think i hate traveling. i used to love it, and it used to love me. i mean, it might have loved me more than i loved it. but i digress.

here's the thing. i miss my dogs and cats when i'm away. yes, that's right. my furry little angels. every day, i snuggle them, kiss them, feed them, play with them, sleep with them, walk them. my life is a good 60 percent about them. okay, maybe 70-75 percent. point being, i MISS them when i'm gone. there is a huge, lonely gap in my day. sometimes, when i think about MY LEGACY, i wonder what i would do with all of my time if i didn't have pets. but guess what, motherfuckers? maybe that is my legacy. i mean, that and beating myself up about everything i do and don't do. but i'm working on reducing that percentage from 30 to maybe 5. i can dream, can't i?

beer coated sticky greased table

The perfection of unrequited love
Weighs on my mind like
A heavy beautiful burden.

Softball is coming again.
In a month we will begin again
Our romance that only lasts
Six months of the year.

We will meet weekly.
Speak niceties. Give condolences.
Share news--good and bad.
Encourage each other at bat,
Yelling the things that make us
All laugh.
Sometimes we will smile for
Just one beat too long.

And then in the undressing
Of alcohol.
We will take off our relative masks
And we will be in love for a moment.

Then linger on opposite ends of the
Beer coated sticky greased table, speaking blindly of
The plays of the day.

And then you will go home to your cold, impatient wife
And two beautiful girls.
And I will go home to my menagerie
of lovers that I don’t love.

I can’t wait.

© march 2003

image "frosty mug"

my cancer

Open me up again
Spread my skin
Splay my tissue
Until you find the bone

It’s what you thought you would find
Simple bone encased in comfortable cancer
Folded upon itself, gelatinous mass
Poke at it and let it hemorrhage a little

But wash your hands before they stain
Wash your hands until the memory has faded
Me inside you, you inside me

I thought the cancer was shifting
But it shifted loose and spread
And now it’s too much to wrap your arms around me
Quarantined with infectious anxiety

I’m sorry I let you in only to disappoint you
Your hands should have healed me
My bones wanted to breathe
My legs wanted to run
My heart wanted to pump blood
Strongly and Clearly

© august 2007

"skin and bones" pencil drawing