it’s shaped like a kitty so negative points for having whiskers embriodered on my bottom

“I’ll take you anywhere” she sang, quietly dancing. The room was dripping blind with sunlight on the blank white walls and she felt like a stolen housewife, supplanted but still the same flowering plant. A new town with all the same faceless people. Outside a UPS truck jolted into a startled reverse, the driver having caught a glimpse of the cat shaped see-thru patch on her underwear as he was pulling out of the driveway across the street. She didn’t notice, too busy moving with her anxious body. Her time of month is creeping up and making her pay attention to the flesh changes what accompany it. She gets heavier for three days and she wonders at the physics of it while re-setting the straps on her bra.

The weather here is clear, crisp with an underly of heat. The angles and the shapes of the neighboring buildings all look the same, rows of balconies all facing the ocean. There’s some workmen on one farther up the steep hill, looking like warm blooded insects to my new eyes. We’re at the bottom of the ridiculous slope, directly behind a motel, two houses up from a highway. I’m here alone but for my internet, my blessed textual home, I love it. Every day I realize who peoples my world are the best I’ve ever had with me. I send my love across the globe, interpersonal treatise of friendship. I get dreams back, little pieces of brilliance to look at. Beautiful Jessica is sending cookies from New York and Warren’s tossed up something for Christmas.

Later she looks out the bay windows at the dirty pumpkin sunset. Everyone tells her the sunsets are spectacular, but she hasn’t seen one yet that’s really meant anything. They look messy, as if the window of the sky has been covered more with grime the farther south one travels. Hours pass and she thinks about why she came back here. She thinks like Susan Vega lyrics, short descriptive sentences that reference the world to music. She got on a plane, she walked down a tiled hallway, she pulled tight her gloves as she pushed through the doorway, she saw him and smiled.

I can see palm trees in every direction

The party was a serious success. Approximately thirty people filtered through the apartment over Tuesday night, the last people arriving at half after midnight. We played the Game of 1000 Blank White Cards and made vicious eggnog. The present table was amusingly covered in odd things; a totem-pole with Mobil figures tied to it, a giant box marked Aardvark. Andrew walked away with the giant whiskey bottle full of jelly-beans that Ray brought, Lief received the paper making kit my mother brought and I got the bag from Nicole & Aiden what had the two pairs of elbow length gloves. Victoria and Dan were the first to arrive and the first to leave, then came Bob, Beth, Brian, James, Ray, Andrew, Aiden, Nicole, Dominique, Rowan, Ethan, Ian, Alli, Nate, Alex, Aaron, Derek, Antonio, Sophie, Kate, Lief, Jenn, Steve, Kalev, his pretty wife, M., with two of her cousins, my mother Vicki, my brother Robin, and two Matthew G’s, Goodbar & Glick, all in no particular order. Will wandered in with two of his friends, but they didn’t know what they were getting into and dragged him out soon after. I wouldn’t be surprised if I missed someone there, it was long list and a lot of people in my livingroom.

Bill, my ex, called and the game dissolved as I answered it, with no-one to keep on top of everyone. Matthew snuck into my room with me and was a delightful bastard into the phone, highly inappropriate, but he helped me pack, so I suppose we must forgive him. I admit that I hadn’t sorted a lick of clothing by the time people began arriving, my day taken with cleaning and finishing the final gifting touches. I was to do it Monday, but had fallen asleep at Brian’s. Not the most intelligent thing I’ve ever done, but it all worked out, so I’m happy. We were loud until the group split into two, with the gamer folk taking over James’ room to play a card game and the rest of us falling into various quiet discussions. Mass exodus was at midnight, but I was up until the next day with Dominique and Matthew. He caught a taxi around five, but she was the last to leave at approximately six:thirty wednesday morning. Ray arrived at eight and we were at the airport by nine. Useless, really, as they decided to not let me in. One collect call later, I was sitting outside with my book, a sad little mouse. The immigration man had yelled at me, calling me names, every word threatening me with a longer stay with some SWAT team men because I didn’t have a birth certificate, never mind that I didn’t have one last time I went down.

My mother came and picked me up, bringing me home for a ransack search, then downtown to finally get a new one. Ten minutes in an office and I had a new one printed out, the efficiency somehow creepy for a governmental office. We had time, so we stopped in the mall, getting her a pin for her hair before stalking into Taff’s for lunch. My second turn at the airport was easier, with kind officials who were on my side because they hated the man I’d dealt with earlier, who apparently every day is angry and uppity yet never does his paperwork. Everyone in line wanted to talk to me, everyone waiting had a look at the present I carried, a three-box tier of red velvet and crimson ribbon. The couple behind me was going to Disneyland with their grandkids and the people in front of me were going to Hawaii for their third honeymoon, insisting that when they were this time they were not going to turn on a T.V. set.

Now I’m in SoCal, arriving at night rather than in the blessed morning. It was amazing to actually see the city at night with my new eyes. Vancouver looks like a deep sea creature pulsing with luminescence, and L.A. looks like the nervous system to some great animal. I was the only person next to an empty seat on the plane, all the children aboard came to visit “the pretty lady with the purple hair, can I mommy?” The boy met me at the airport with a placard marked HOLMES and then he drove me home. This morning I find that I’m installed in a white-washed wooden beach-house apartment. It’s easy to imagine movie-perfect surfer boys living here, their girlfriends blonde and wandering around in towels and bikini tops. Not being one of those, I’m wrapped in a blanket, playing the game of ‘if I were a scotsboy, where would I hide the can-opener’. I want to move the computer outside to the deck, there’s a chair out there and it looks as if all I would be able to see is the aching cerulean ocean and the sky above it, but I can’t find any longer cords. It’s amazing, the horizon, a black-blue steady line stretching to the vanishing point in either direction. I wish I could record it properly, show it to everyone with the clean taste of the air and the siren sound of the emergency vehicles that have been screaming by all day. This doesn’t feel like December, this feels like spring.

fall in love with me again

Remind me to pay attention to my life some time. I’m wandering around feeling so strangely chaotic that it’s original and I like it. Days spent up with lovely people, light-haired wunderkins of various sorts, they make me feel better. I’m in trouble when I come back, I’ve got to write my own warrant, figure out the limits of behavior that I’ll deal with. There’s nothing says there’s rules but me. I’m thinking about druids, the magic of interaction and knowing what someone is thinking without having to ask. My always question, my always want to know.

I told someone once that “it feels like love when someone understands you, but it’s not.”

Why do people listen to me? I’m too young for this. Again. It’s my best way to be because it’s what I know how to do.

I don’t know who’s coming tonight. An eclectic group of people have slated their acceptance, but I can’t recall the list. I don’t know who’s going to show or the social stew for which I am destined. I should be cleaning but it occurred to me to write, so I’m writing. A slow waltz dance with typewriting fingers and the pain shoots up my arm again. It’s a hard thing, but needful. Priorities set, match, and love. Piano key quiver of the salutation letter.

I’m going to have the oddest set of obligations when I get back. There’s a relationship that needs a looking into, a years long flirtation that may have ripened into something to pluck. It’s an odd realization, but something that had to happen sometime. It’s my year for discovery and pleasant chance, might as well be now, might as well be before I leave for good. These are just practice runs, my first forays into having a tight-rope life. Somewhere to look down from, a number of days I can balance. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t play the game when it came to me. I can wait, but now I don’t want to sometimes. My patience, peculiar as it is, is shifting into something more esoteric. It feels like a run of notes, scaling past the prime number to somewhere unknown.

Dear me.. It’s solstice..

little did I know

I’ve had an interesting morning. There was a startled moment of snapping awake and being unaware as to what my situation was. There was someone behind me, their arm around me, that hadn’t woken me up, where am I? Without my eyes on, there’s little I can see, some dim lights, a computer chair, and ah-hah, right, christmas lights. I visited with Brian yesterday, that must be the person underneath all the blankets stealing half the bed. My next thought was that as it is their bed, I suppose they’re welcome to it.

We’ve been talking about economics as he wakes up, slowly sipping tea in a housecoat and discussing the vageries of cultural taxes.

today I hit the post office

Would anyone be kind enough to explain to me how to imbed a counter into my LiveJournal? I know that it’s possible to customize it in such a way with a pro account, but I haven’t the education to figure it out myself.

When I posted this, Michel sent me this. If I had a credit card, my holiday shopping would be complete.

happy holidays with a lego gitmo from brixton

Today is my last day for properly getting anything done before I leave the country.

if you want to see me before I go, this is it. Bring people, spread the word.

the finest art

Happy birthdays to James and Bill! My sincerest well wishes to both of you, the years would have been less splendid without you.

I’ve been up a long time, the sun has risen and the moon had sunk since waking, a bright morning breaking when I arrived home to my box today. Now the sun is setting at four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, it’s dark.

There was a party at Marcella’s, a holiday thing, thirty people compressed into a small apartment out at Gamer Hall. I would have forgotten but for blonde Bill coming over. He visited while I was working, a welcome light-voiced distraction from the plugging monotony of the children. It’s interesting to see people who have been lost and out of touch for so long, the mannerisms are all slightly different, yet the relationship remains tacitly assumed. I feel sometimes like I’m braving an ancient fire escape bolted to a building that I built too long ago to trust. The secrets must have shifted, our identities blurring into someone new, but the same. I like that we’re older now.

I’d forgotten how comfortable with touch that particular crowd of people is, how assuring and self-assuring the body comfort is with some of them. Hands reach out to trail across your arm as you walk past the couch, you’re caught into hugs as you squeeze through the kitchen. It’s aristocratic inescapable, the affection. The familiarity is soothing. It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt I could curl up safely with everyone in the room who knows my name that it was blissful to the point of falling asleep. A noisy room crowded and I drifted off, cozy in the blended cacophony.

Bill eventually joined me on the couch, quietly letting me fit myself into his shoulder to rest until it was midnight. When the clock struck over, we sang Happy Birthday, filling the apartment with happy drunken voices. I meant to leave then, I was going to go home and sleep, my only reason for staying fulfilled, but after talking with Kim, Angus, and Antonio, I found myself sitting on Travis out on the balcony, shoes off again and my coat inside, my opposition pointless, as it was empty. “She thinks she’s an imposition” is right, but for once I didn’t mind my neck being nibbled on. Letting someone enjoy, that I am myself again enough to be there was blessing. That, and I admit I respect skill. I respect skill like I can’t breathe with it, there’s not a mark on me today. Words floating from graceful hands, little stories and observations, some people are story-tellers and I love to listen. A silence broke that had waited four years, here in my arms. A long skirt and eyes that are laughing in love with you.

it’s not all that bad

I need some anti-fascist films, I need to de-tox my mind. French films or explosions, art house entropy, a breath of dark edged humour. Work is a meandering river of pointless conversation and young child disasters that have never occurred to me. “My bf broke ^ wit me!! NE hot boys here who want a sexy 12 year old? I want a rope, not a thick one, but one for bondage. I want to tie these children to chairs and stuff their mouths with candied rags. Then I want to put them in a room with a screen. Let them be aware that there are others there. Then let them be AWARE. Use drugs if you need, but let it be learning. Let them out after an hour, let them free.

Sex and drugs aren’t getting us anywhere today, instead it’s sex and words. Trapped, my love, in these digital wires. I’ll tie your wrists, bind them with letters made of the most passionate steel. It’s a blood-sport. I want you to shiver from heat. I want ice to spark in your eyes. I’m going to get it. I’m going to take it. You’ll die when you finally see me dancing.