putting my head back together

Padova, rezando
Originally uploaded by odei.

Surely seven steps have been taken. Days collapsing in exhaustion, settling yourself back into the city, alcohol aware, wondering where I am. I know that not once has an hour walked by without handing me a card with your holy name written on it. My eyes falling down, unable to speak it out loud without reverberations stirring within my heart. Scripted now, I don’t know what to say. It’s been a week. Every day an anniversary missed. I’m waiting. I gave you something and it’s time you gave it back. It’s been decided I’m a widow now, the grave dug in foreign soil when you decided another bed would be the answer to a question I don’t know yet.

Tonight is burlesque followed by midnight Rocky Horror at Andrea‘s house. An easy segue, we’ll all be dressed appropriately, though we’ll likely be showing up without toast or toilet paper. Tomorrow I don’t know. During the day on both Saturday and Sunday are Kokoro Dance’s 10th Annual Wreck Beach Butoh performances, something I haven’t been to in years now. Afterward, I’m sure there’s something happening Saturday night. With us, how could there not be? I put down my lack of knowledge to the fact that lately my brain, at best, has been a distracted sieve. Sunday is darling Chelsea‘s birthday dinner, and Monday is the ever-present Korean Movie Night. Tuesday is Beth‘s performance and Wednesday… Wednesday my skull swishes, an empty shell of me. Dominique, were you Wednesday? It was dedicated to someone and it wasn’t for Karaoke, that comes later. Was there a concert? Something to do with Mike? I’m tired, my memories bleeding. Thursday pulls a blank, but Friday is Lung‘s not-to-be-missed photography show.

I like the hydrocarbons

Lisa 459
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

if you mix an acid and a base, you get salt

Life lately has been slightly less than hectic and at best a distraction. War has raged back and forth over the hours of every day I’ve been awake. Ryan put me to sleep earlier today, a blessing, one hand on my head like an affectionate priest. Half an hour to clear my head. Fireworks and fireworks, it’s been a western world meets east things-are-eyes-averted two weeks. I look in the mirror and I see a face that looks like it’s been minutely sewn to a skull. I was fired on Friday You’re a creative person, and I’m sure elsewhere you will go far. It was a little speech, she walked up to my desk, said, “this is close enough” then control room said LAUNCH. Her black hair is pretty, but her smile is not as frequent as mine. My reading outpaces, a personality conflict, multi-tasking apparently a sign of inattention. As I walked away I thought, “This has been just as long as a theatre run, this has been a show.”

the core of the earth is a molten ball of lead

Saturday before last, I went similarly to the fireworks site. No change in confidence, but with a settled step, accepting the ground I was pacing. I arrived smiling. A steady walk in unfamiliar boots, all of this looked familiar, I knew what I could do and how much I needed to learn. Jay looked me over, we hadn’t seen each other in a while, our interactions being defined by fire and firewater and neither being a matter of course anymore, and his eyes checked for boots, but stuck at my throat. “I can’t believe you’re wearing jewelry.”

core of my earth is molten : my thyroid gland is a fire-engine : my earth is molten

There was a hawk that circled the site for hours, it snapped open its great wings against the bright gray sky and looked down at us and our trestles as if considering prey. Later the sun burned off the clouds, banishing both the prospect of rain or a decent temperature. The reflected sun off the water and sand was dreadful, a burning reminder that the bright thing in the sky is made of fusion. We stripped off our shirts by mid-day and danced with conversation, touching upon everything internet terrible. Linda Lee, ostensibly one of the more experienced pyrotechs, wasn’t as internet literate as the rest of us and it left her laughing in shock as we continued to up the edgy. She had a wonderful guessed definition of slashfic that went beyond irony somewhere into painfully appropriate.

I love you

No one took pictures of my miniature inferno.

this is the first time in a long time I’ve been left alone with a screen

Originally uploaded by gjohng.

I woke up this morning like a murder victim, posed and cunningly placed to display the blooms of blood to the best advantage. I woke tired and I woke too early. Five:thirty the clock said, and how I wished it had lied. In the mirror I looked like a fashion disaster, some high couteur model with an ill chosen penchant for ice-cream, my make-up shimmering and flecked with sleep.

I haven’t been home lately, not at all. My room is so messy that the right kind of doctor could look in and see a disaster ground zero for the terminally depressed. Saturday was Illuminaires, something I still want to talk about but haven’t had the chance, as Sunday was the day my computer caught fire. Monday was Korean Movie Night, an evening where the last people always leave at one o’clock, and Tuesday was an evening in with Nocole and my mother. We talked about relationships, three weary women of differing generations and differing points of view. We found something in common though. All three of us are alone.

Wednesday was the first night of the Symphony of Fire, the Celebration of Light it’s called now. Navi and I were running late, having been in the forest out in Langley, our naked flesh being eaten alive by the whining wildlife. Also, we were attacked by an owl. That sort of thing tends to slow down city folk and traffic was bad, so when we arrived the show had already begun. Through the crowd we forded, finding the path and as we ran, we could look out over the thousands of dark heads and see the barge rocking with sound concussions underneath giant blossoms of flame. It was beautiful, as it always is, and our friends were where they said they would be, which is a new thing and practically a miracle. After the music crescendo, I stood in the water and stared at the ocean, watching the city reflected on the waves. My arms wrapped around me, I don’t know what I felt. I feel it now, but it’s a hollow thing. My thoughts were on the horizon, on how black the water was, how I couldn’t see my feet or the sun. I looked out and farther out, thinking, “there is light there, over that line, and how I need to see it.”

Five hours sleep since friday morning. I wanted to steal some ephedrin but forgot.

san clemente
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

Friday I was told a horrific story at a birthday party by a woman who’s using me as the main feature in her thesis on the Death Of Culture about having a fisting accident where he punched into her uterus and was caught there by her shocked body for thirty-five awkward minutes. Added bonus, apparently she has three ovaries because in the womb she absorbed a twin. He hit one.

Our weather has been restless, torrential bi-polar syndromes daily, swinging back and forth between rain and thirty degrees in the shade. The only reason I know it’s summer has been the time the sun goes down. There’s light in the sky at nine o’clock at night. Today, however, there was sun. Hard shearing light, painful on the eyes when it reflected off the ocean. Dominique and Amanda and I went to Wreck Beach, the nudist beach, where I found Brian and let him curl up to me like a cat, like a little child, thirty years older than me, but four feet tall. All of the sudden, he reminded me of Chris. They’re skinny thin in the same ways, like the bones have been hung primarily to show off something pretty.

Quickie Culture Night on Saturday went well, I think. It bled well into Sunday morning and I suspect that everyone present saw something new. James showed me a piece of film that left me without speech or coherent thought. I was hideously impressed. Prey Alone, it was called, and it was serrated green filter chocolate sex wrapped with an enviable plot, even better than the startlingly brilliant BMW films. Though, I must say, those were a damned treat. The one with James Brown blistered my eyes with how clever it was. You should come to our next one. I don’t care who you are or what city. If it’s possible to do, I would like to find a way to host our itinerary for people who live too far away or in inaccessible countries.

rehashing dates

Alright, let’s try to figure this out.

Friday, July 15th, is Amanda‘s birthday party, a huge thing planned at Patti, Simon, Tyler, and Karen’s house.

Saturday, July 16th, is Quicky Culture Night downtown at Jervis & Davie.

Monday, July 18th., Korean Movie Monday, where we’ll be watching Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring.

Saturday, July 23rd, is Illuminares, the lantern festival at Trout Lake.

Is there anything else of note?