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Iām not doing well. Still. Again.
I started this whole long post about everything thatās making me feel shitty but I donāt even want to finish it, because god, I am so fucking bored of my problems. And Iām tired of talking about them, because whatās the point of venting when nothing ever fucking changes?
Donāt worry, Iām not going to harm myself or anyone else, Iām just very unhappy.
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I saw it written and I saw it say // April 26, 2021
Mule Variations // April 2019
These days, Iām full of nostalgia, but what else is new? Living in memories that I call up, or that come unbidden. Dancing to L7 in A.F.ās room, flirting with N., A.F. and A.L. stoned, sitting in the corner with the beanbag chairs and lava lamps, watching us dance, the dark wood paneling and the dust notes dancing in the afternoon light. All of us, later, doodling and scrawling lines of poetry on each otherās jeans. Driving around with Filia, singing along to Guns nā Roses and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Take me down to the Paradise City, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty; Me and my me and my me and my friends. Brood X during their last emergence, seventeen years agoāCincinnati in June, the cicadaās mating cries, B. throwing their molted husks at me, the heartache and humidity. And oh god, how was 2004 seventeen years ago? Open mic nights at Husbyās; that time R. was up and started playing the riff for āSweet Emotionā and then realized he didnāt know the lyrics, and I said I did, so he called me up to sing for him and some stranger at the bar said āyou need a scarf!ā and tossed me one, and I tied it around the mic and did my best Steven Tyler impression. Talk about things and nobody cares. The park in Milwaukee, the abandoned textile factoryāthe wandering Scottish boy with his fiddle, the black swans, crowns of wildflowers, thunderstorms.
These days. There was a shooting in Kenosha over the weekend, and you know you live in a fucked up place when the fact that it appears to have been a targeted shooting rather than a random mass shooting actually comes as a relief.
These days. Iāve been feeling bad about myself, which often manifests as feeling bad about my body, my looks. When Iām happier or at least engaged enough in other things, Iām usually fairly body-neutral, but right now, every time I look at myself in the mirror I think: Ugh. So Iām trying ways to make my body and my self feel better. Playing dress-up, even if Iām staying at home (which is obviously what I do most days). Trying to eat lots of fresh fruits and vegetables, and less bread, but also not beating myself up when I snack on a croissant smeared with Nutella. I have a new morning ritual. Before I sit down at my desk, I do some yoga and stretching, and then dance around to a song that makes me feel joyful. Lately, thereās been a lot of Nina Simone in the rotationāmostly āFeeling Goodā and āAināt Got No/I Got Life.ā
These days, I donāt sleep well. My house is a wreck. But Iāve got the press up and running again. These days. Iām restless. What else is new? I miss wandering. Iām thinking of taking up geocaching. I drink too much coffee in the morning, have a wee dram of scotch in the evening. I spend a lot of time sitting by the window, looking out at the slowly budding trees, listening to the birds and trains, writing poems about birds and trains. What else is new.
My great grandma (my dadās momās mother) was Scottish and got violently angry whenever anyone mistook her for being English. And honestly? Same.
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Itās the end of a long, hard week, so P. and I are treating ourselves to takeout from our favorite Pakistani placeāchicken biryani, lamb curry, samosas, and roti. I canāt wait.
yesterday i had poemlust, this poem had been simmering in my head for a week or so and yesterday my palms got sweaty and i felt the swell in my stomach and heart and i knew it was time, i got totally crushed out on the poem and then i sat down at my typewriter to consummate our relationship and it was beautiful.
āfrom a journal entry, April 18 2007
I thought the intense dreams were a product of Pisces season, but theyāve carried over firmly into Aries season.
A lot of my dreams over the past few months have involved me wandering through big old spooky houses, looking for Clues to some nebulous mystery. I had one of those again last night, and the way the plot rolled out and the atmosphere of it...it was all a bit like if David Lynch directed a Nancy Drew film. (Which, honestly, Iād pay to see.) Of course now I mostly just remember the feeling of it all, with bits and pieces of detail: a friend had been staying in this decrepit, once-grand mansion with their weird aunt and uncle, and they (my friend) woke up one morning to find all their stuff mysteriously wrecked. So I went to investigate. My abuela* told me to watch for the UFOs. Inside the house, the light was dusty and blue; I found a broken ship-in-a-bottle (one of the clues) and came across a stranger masturbating in one of the bathrooms.
(*I do not have an abuela, as I am not from any ethnicity or language group in which we would call our grandmothersĀ abuela. In the dream, however, I had an abuela.)
Another dream I had last night was about the same old friend, W., I had the sex dream about two weeks ago. The funny thing was, in the dream, when I ran into them, I thought how funny it was to be running into them so soon after Iād had a dream about them! In this dream, they came out as trans feminine, and we were talking about trans and non-binary stuff; they said that they definitely arenāt a man and prefer presenting in a more feminine manner, but that they werenāt sure they wanted surgery.Ā āI kinda like having a penis,ā they said,Ā ādoes that make me a bad trans person?ā I told them no, thereās no one way to be trans, and that I didnāt want surgery either and kinda like having tits. Iām sure that discussion was sparked by a different IRL friend of mine recently coming out as non-binary, but I still donāt know why Iāve had two dreams recently about W., whom I havenāt seen or spoken to in nearly 20 years.
