—IS THIS THING WORKING?

 

 

…It’s a good thing sanity has a wide spectrum.

 

…People often tell you that they’re there for you, that they always will be, that they have your back unequivocally, but sometimes they’re lying, or else they’re just wrong about the things they say. 

 

…If I added it all up, it was hardly that many hours at all, yet there it sits. There it is.

 

…Maybe I just have a case of tinnitus.

 

…I don’t know what I need, but I need something. Don’t we all?

 

…This is a little long, but trust me, it’s worth it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4OlL0OpbW8

 

…Everybody’s life is a shipwreck at times.

 

…I know I really love a book when it keeps stopping me, making me write.

 

…I wonder how many people regret the tattoos they’re wearing.

 

…Sometimes you just can’t look away from a bad movie, especially when it’s about you.

 

…Sometimes you have to ask a question you don’t want the answer to.

 

…No, I never said I was too old to learn new things, though I might have insinuated it from time to time.

 

…You shouldn’t worry about me, unless you really, really want to.

 

…Sometimes the truth is askew.

...Whee!

 

…“Here’s your solution. Ask him what no one else will ask him. Ask him what he wants.” Charles Baxter, Blood Test

 

…To answer your question—I’m not sure why I’m this way.

 

…Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like a fugitive.

 

…I wish my body would stop disagreeing with me.

 

…Do you really want to know what I think, or is that just something to ask during the silence?

 

…It’s pretty hard to hate someone. I mean, like, really hate someone, yet...

 

…Sometimes you have to pause and watch the elephant, even when it’s stomping on your chest.

 

…Something that’s stuck with me was a story (told by his widow) about this writer who once did a poetry reading with only one other person in the audience. His wife talked about her husband’s excitement and enthusiasm, how he performed as if the room was packed, how there could have been one person there or five hundred and he still would have given the performance of his life.

 

…It’s easy to get confused when someone’s speaking pig latin.

 

…It turns out that you can’t always counter reason with faith.

 

…As a rule, always be a good listener. Even with the person you see all the time.

 

…As long as it doesn’t hurt someone, shouldn’t you be able to do what you want to do?

 

…The tricky part is still tricky, but it feels good being there.

 

….Who’s worse—Marco, or me, because I once said I’d vote for him?

 

…Whenever someone says, “I don’t want to be that guy,” I always wonder what guy they’re talking about.

 

…“We are star stuff, pondering stars.” Carl Sagan

 

…You were always looking for a reason to give up, and now you’ve got it.

 

…There’s something to be said for drinking, and those who can avoid it.

 

…“Your body, my choice.” How is that even possible?

 

…Dreams are really bad at giving directions.

 

…It’s only macabre if you think it is.

 

…The Emperor’s New Clothes—I’ve so much to say about that, so I’ll leave it right there.

 

…Some people ask how you feel, what you think, when they really only want you to confirm what’s already in their head.

 

…“The difference between poetry and rhetoric is being ready to kill yourself instead of your children.” Audre Lorde

 

…It seems like a good idea to have a few people in your life who challenge you in ways you’re not comfortable with, who maybe even make you feel a little unsafe. At least, I think it is. At least, I hope so.

 

…Aren’t we all more alike than not? I used to think so, but now I’m not sure at all.

 

…If it sounds like I bitch a lot, your hearing is probably really good.

 

…Is it possible to have a best friend you never see? Hmm.

 

…“The Big Dark” sounds like a horror movie and sometimes it looks that way as well.

 

…I’m always paranoid when it comes to computers. Back in the early days, say around 1992, when people used floppy disks for storage, I wrote a novel, finished it, and when I went to save it, the entire thing disappeared—poof!—just like that. I had one of the smartest tech guys I know come to the house to evaluate things. Larry Webb was his name, a really sweet guy, and a complete caricature of a nerd who wore thick, black-rimmed glasses, short-sleeved button-down shirts, his pocket stacked with pens and an ink protector (really). After an hour or so, he looked at me and said, “I’m sorry, but it’s gone for good.” 

I ended up re-writing that book, and while the second draft was better, it still wasn’t good. Nevertheless, that experience has rendered me skittish when it comes to techy stuff and the inevitable problems that arise, like my email shutting me out yesterday.

People always ask if I miss it and when they do I tell them I miss the Help Desk.

 

…It’s the books that linger, that stay with you, that show up unannounced during a banal part of your day that matter most.

 

…Maybe I read too much. Maybe that’s the problem.

 

…A lot of times social media feels like a club or sorority that I’ve somehow joined and can’t seem to escape from. A Hotel California, if you will.

 

…When you no longer drink, alcohol shows up everywhere, all the time, like the one that got away.

 

…Sometimes my friends will say such simple yet profound things and not even know it.

 

…One gift I have is making babies and infants smile or laugh. I must resemble a happy clown. Then when they’re toddlers, they mostly ignore me.  

 

…To survive, you need forgiveness. There’s no getting around that.

 

…If you ever find yourself here, well, that’s half of the point.

 

—THANK GOD IT'S WEDNESDAY

 

lucky idiot

 

          your tongue on mine swirling stabbing cute pokes leaving staying saying hi polishing my nostril knobs like they’re bar glasses or see-through jewels your tongue teaching my neck new morse etch-a-sketch a map to the fountain of youth how to circumnavigate the globe or just cum on the spot your tongue busy below the equator beautifully sloppy leaving zigzag trails of slick bubbles some sizzling some popping soundlessly in my sparse jungle your tongue there there and also there fingering a lock collecting white gold riches I never knew I had in me your tongue a greedy thing milking my reserves calling up the militia for an extended oral battle or two your tongue teaching my toes to tap and curl and spring like a deer for the hell of it your tongue pinky swearing mine promising more round two three four no matter what other things life would have us do

 

—I DON’T KNOW IF I’M BEING FOOLISH, DON’T KNOW I’M BEING BLIND

 

Shallow Breathing

 

I construct 

scaffolding 

to prioritize 

my suffering 

and pity 

and feel

at once  

selfish 

and foolish 

as if there 

is no greater 

harm than 

thwarted love 

not even 

that child 

fighting 

again 

this morning 

for a 

simple pocket 

of air

 

—LATELY LIFE REALLY IS STRANGER THAN FICTION

 

 

Provisional

 

        It’s award season and the taxidermist is chewing gristle while tying a full Windsor his lines padded and memorized wife ready to grasp his elbow and applaud on cue if only she can find her cloak and hijab first if only she can learn how to bleed out of sight

  

 

—YOU’VE SURE GOT A WAY WITH WORDS

 

 

Meaningless Affections

 

Because you’re an angry person, I write you an audiobook that I never send. Editors demand rewrites, more show-don’t-tell, adjectives instead of lazy adverbs, an uproarious ending that makes people gasp then say, Ha! I had it pegged from the beginning! 

Our dog is neutered but sheds all its fur while the windows lose their minds because it’s that kind of Christmas where squirrels wear argyle sweaters and deer ridiculous parkas from Yves Saint Lauren (who might have died of a head cold) (like your great—great— aunt.) The Siberian mutt, once an avid reader, is now, instead, addicted to TikTok and anime porn. 

In the novel, everyone dearly and savagely loves someone who doesn’t know how to sculpt, climax properly or reciprocate meaningless affections. No one is killed, loses a limb or child, which is a first for me. No one runs from a fight or lies with a bald face because every character (even Sinead O'Connor) is unnaturally hirsute. 

When your daughter reads it to you one night, she skips the part about the garage and ladder and old rope with its frayed threads which, collectively, couldn’t get the job done until the third try. Your daughter, the split of me, writes a new chapter full of sappy fabrications, mentioning love-at-first-sight and randy moments in a car park instead of what I wrote about widowed moms and how much glass they shatter when the house, at last, decides to settle itself.

  

 

—ALL THOSE STARS? THEY’RE SHINING JUST FOR YOU

 

Snow-blindness

 

Why didn’t you

tell me 

about the snow 

fleeting like love

mercy and beauty 

hypnotic enough 

to harvest eternal

insomnia and 

breed mania 

how if you 

catch a razor-edged 

flake on your 

tongue you’re a 

lucky bastard 

but get one 

caught in your 

eye and you’re 

a blind fool 

for life

 --YOU DON'T GET TO MISS WHAT YOU NEVER HAD, OR SO THEY SAY

It's about time

to call down 

the circling crows

I've been so fearful of

let their feet

dance below my

brows all they want

we'll take turns

swatting the pinata

scoop up what

falls or doesn't

laugh a little

laugh a lot

share a worm or two

call it a truce and

grow old together

 --WHY DON'T YOU SEE THE SHOW AGAIN

A new silence

is here

did you notice

courtyard bells broken

wagons busted

birds not even

smears in the sky

everything like

a still-birth

with no one 

left to wail

or ask for

reasons why

while muted thunder

mauls the

impossible distance

between you

and I

 

—MAYBE WE JUST STOPPED TRYING

 

 

When We Were Fourteen We Fought a Cyclone

 

The storm is a deranged thug 

     slamming and kicking 

the treehouse we’re in 

     a bottle of clear spent between us

everything shaken and unsteady 

     everything gray-black below 

the bruise of an outage 

     blinking more darkness 

wind shredding cedars and oaks 

     jostling the husks of rusted cars 

and never-run pickups that 

     dot the trailer lot like acne scars

every weak-boned fence collapsing 

     and spit out like a garbled mouth 

full of shattered teeth while

     a dog goes flying into the swirl 

followed by a spice rack TV motorcycle 

     bike anchor and someone’s grandma

If we weren’t brothers 

     it’d be enough to stop us

If our father hadn’t loved him wrong 

     we’d have no need to create 

our own kind of carnage

 

—IT’S A THIN LINE

 

 

Sustenance

 

They feed us 

yellow 

a softer shade 

of poison 

untraceable 

yet delicious 

like an unremembered 

dream

Someone plays 

Moonlight Sonata 

someone else 

a snuff film 

It’s a fix 

as chaos and 

contagion commingle 

Elsewhere there are 

deer in the glade 

drunk on crab apples 

and ignorance

staggering through 

nature and time zones 

chewing leaves 

with their sideways jaws

unaware of the hunter’s

bones littered 

beneath their hooves  

—LOOKING HIGH, LOOKING LOW

 scarlet

     I wish  /  I could  /  write something  /  clever  /  or hopeful  /  that would  /  help you  /  ignore  /  my gloom  /  but this  /  pen  /  bleeds scarlet  /  so look  /  away  /  love  /  read no  /  further  / whatever  /   you do  /  please don’t  /  ask any  / questions  

 

--DIM ALL THE LIGHTS TONIGHT

Stuck

On day six of the outage, I've become a Bitch, miserable and raging about my instant lack, the smothering dark, until I remember tomorrow, my too-young niece and nephew tubed-up and needle-stuck, one giving away his marrow, the other awaiting her final chance.

 Don't you just love a power outage? Me, neither.

It's a disaster here with more to come, but if you'll hang in there with me, maybe things will return by Wednesday. Fingers crossed anyway.

--I ONLY BLINKED MY EYES

      Housekeeping

What if

we never 

have sex

but just

cuddle instead?

I know, 

"but" before "cuddle"

and after "sex"

sounds like 

a compromise

or like

you're getting 

something less

than a bargain,

definitely not

a steal.

For my money,

I'd just like

to smell

your skin,

the citrus

and cinnamon

notes

hidden in

your pores.

Maybe I'll

memorize everything,

map it,

nudge or

fold it

into me

like a 

perfumed letter

in an envelope

intended to be

opened at

a later date.

"Hey, Housekeeping

give us 

a moment,

please?" 

So yeah,

see that

frustrated spider

on the ceiling,

unsure of

where to 

stitch next?

Aren't you

glad

we don't 

have that

problem with

time and industry,

uncertainty?

Shut up,

Silly Goose.

Don't answer.

Just kiss me

again

with your

eyes unsteady

but wide oopen.

For a few

savage moments,

let's pretend

the world's

unfucked,

that we 

were here first,

back before

Darwin

The Great Wall

or Jesus

when

doves wove

the very

first 

set of sheets,

the ones

we're writhing on

right now. 

 

 —LIFE WILL BE A BREEZE, YOU KNOW? I REALLY SHOULD BE GLAD

 

(This was written in spurts days ago, but if felt like something to say, or leave unabridged, for the weekend.)

 

…It’s a good thing I lost the post I was going to put up here originally, because it was anything but pretty.

 

…Just so you know ahead of time, this one may not be very pretty either.

 

…Smells like smoke in here…

 

…Do you have any idea? I don’t think so. How can you? I’ve never clearly said so.

 

…I always hate when I use fake exclamation marks. Like, when I don’t really feel any enthusiasm for what I’m writing in response to a person who’s used one, but I know they want to hear their glee and gusto repeated back, so I comply! I write: Way to go! I write: You’re the man! I write: You’re the woman! I write: You’re the They! (Actually, that last one hasn’t happened yet.)

 

…It’s funny the things that make you doubt yourself.

 

…I don’t know what it means, or says about me, but when I find a penny on the ground, if it’s Heads, I still pick it up and feel like something good is going to happen.

 

…I have a sweatshirt (two actually) that says:

DRINK WATER

LOVE HARD

FIGHT RACISM

Sometimes I wear it and forget I am. Inevitably, unless they’re a person of color, people will always comment about the water part.

 

…You go back to your hotel and I'll go back to my glamorous life of being alone. The only thing I have to come home to is a bottle of mouthwash to get the taste of cum out of my mouth. I'm tired of being alone. That's what I'm tired of. Sera, “Leaving Las Vegas” 

 

…The lamest platitude in the world has to be: “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” Yet, it’s the most true.

 

…You can’t change the past, but you sure as hell can think about it. Like, a lot.

 

…You know what I’m good at fixing? 

Nothing.

 

…It’s only humiliating if you think it is.

 

…Do you ever have a word you continually misspell, after years and years and years? Mine is “occasion.” Almost always, I write “ocassion.”

 

…“Lay” or “lie,” “laid” or “layed”—those are different stories.

 

…No matter what they tell you, time doesn’t take care of everything.

 

…Something to remember: it’s always important to push “Save.”

 

…I wish I could tell you how hard it is, staying mute like this. But isn’t that what you asked for?

 

…Did we talk about “Misery loves company”? When I’m miserable, I don’t want to see, or talk to, a single soul. Unless it’s a deer, or the beaver, or Pete, or a slinky squirrel darting across the road, out of traffic, too quick to get squashed.

 

….There are 75.1 million reasons to be utterly baffled. 75.1 million “why’s” that I still have no answer for.

 

…Yesterday was a dark day, literally and figuratively. Haven’t had one like that in a while, and hope I don’t again.

 

…I’m not quite sure how you get to “Bluer than blue,” but I’ll trust Michael Johnson.

 

…I mean, is there really such a thing as “sadder than sad?” Okay, well, I might have been close a few times in the last ten days.

 

…At this point, I’ve stopped keeping score.

 

…I hope you have a better antidote for the dark days than I do. Perhaps you could share?

 

…I’m as competitive as the next guy, probably more so, but if I’m losing, getting slaughtered, but my best friend still has a shot, I’m always right there, jumping in his corner, rooting for him.

 

…What I’ve learned is when you’re thinking of someone, you let them know, even if they might think it’s weird, or too late.

 

…I’m all over the board here, but I hope you recognize some things.

 

…I wonder if it’s okay to tell someone you miss them, knowing they’ll ask to see you, when you know that’s not possible, and that it is probably never going to happen.

 

…After the Newtown school shooting, I was at church and the pastor, a hip sort who I really admired, said, “People always want to know why, but finding out why doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring those kids back. It doesn’t reverse what happened. It adds nothing in the way of closure.” I still remember that, and I think he’s mostly right. Yet, I’m still looking for the why.

 

…“I was just thinking of you and wanted you to know,” has to be one of the best things to hear, right up there with “I love you” or “I miss you,” which are the same things, if you think about it.

 

…Even though this is a tear-jerker, it made me happy:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YCzj-SDYmY

 

…When I start to feel sorry for myself, I try to think about how fucking awful Zelenskyy has it every single day, and how bleak things must look for him now. He’s definitely on my Man Crush list.

 

…If it’s true that you can’t write when you’re happy, then I should have an incredibly productive couple of months.

 

…I never get tired of watching those dogs. Thank God for those guys and their sloppy love of water.

 

…There are a few moments when it feels like it never happened.

 

…I wonder what you’re thinking about all of this.

 

…I wonder where you are.

 

…I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re better than okay, somehow.

 

…I think the thing is, we both realized that we didn't have that much time. And I accepted him for who he was, and I didn't expect him to change, and I think he felt that for me, too. I liked his drama, and he needed me. And I loved him. I really loved him. Sera, “Leaving Las Vegas”

 

…My problem isn’t that I take everything too seriously, it’s just that I take everything around me too seriously, and for that, I’m alone to blame.

 

…I wish people wouldn’t say, “It’s okay,” or “It’s going to be okay,” when it’s clearly not okay nor is it going to be okay. Maybe a better thought would be: “Everything is horrible right now, but if you work hard enough, there’s a way to survive it. And I’ll do it with you.” Or maybe just, “I’m right here.”

 

…I’ve always wanted to be a bartender, or taxi driver, because I thought I’d get a lot of writing material from those jobs, but the only problem with that is I have no sense of direction and a tavern is the last place I need to be. Hence, I guess I’ll just have to keep using my imagination. “Bartender, pour me another sonnet, please. And make it a double.”

 

…It feels a lot longer than it’s actually been.

 

…When I lived in Oregon, I had a speedbag set up in my garage (really). I could never make the tear-shaped bag dance and dribble like you see in boxing films, but I tried. That is, until I inadvertently got metal shavings caught in my eyes from the ball bearing and had to have surgery and wear blindfolds for days until I could see again. 

 

…No good deed goes unpunished.

 

…Daylight Savings Time feels like a test of spirit at this point in the year. When I want to bitch about it, I think about those poor folks up in Alaska.

 

…It’s hard to trust anyone that doesn’t have a vice. I bet Mother Theresa secretly chewed tobacco. Probably Copenhagen Wintergreen. I bet she swore like a sailor, or a Sigma Chi, at least under her breath.

 

…It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? Like a really, long, fucking minute.

 

…My body’s been trying to tell me something for quite some time, which is why I need to have my hearing checked.

 

…I see those studs with the Ironman bodies and I think, “Really? What’s the point of all that work? Are you going to live your entire life with your shirt off?” But maybe that’s just envy.

 

…I’m such a laggard. I can’t figure out Bluetooth on my car stereo, so today I punched earphones in and listened to Mt Joy, Vampire Weekend, The Smile and Dawes. I don’t even recall the drive.

 

…At some point I’m going to have to figure out what to do with the rest of my life, something that doesn’t make me feel like I’ve given up.

 

…Can you share a life with someone and not be physically in it? I guess that’s called Pen Pals. I guess it has to be something super special to keep it going.

 

…If you’ve never watched “Parenthood,” (the series, not the film), you should. It’s network TV, so you have to allow for that, but it’s mostly spectacular. I’m learning a lot, the second time watching it. What I noticed is the cast, the characters, they never forget to tell the important people in their life that they love them. Like, they do it all the time. 

 

… Are you desirable? Are you irresistible? Maybe if you drank bourbon with me, it would help. Maybe if you kissed me and I could taste the sting in your mouth it would help. If you drank bourbon with me naked. If you smelled of bourbon as you fucked me, it would help. It would increase my esteem for you. If you poured bourbon onto your naked body and said to me "drink this". If you spread your legs and you had bourbon dripping from your breasts and your pussy and said "drink here" then I could fall in love with you. Because then I would have a purpose. To clean you up and that, that would prove that I'm worth something. I'd lick you clean so that you could go away and fuck someone else. Ben Sanderson, “Leaving Las Vegas

 

…If you’ve ever wanted to read someone’s diary, like I have, well, you’re almost there.

 

…Try not to throw up.

 

…Sorry, not sorry.

 

…And so, here come the Holidays. Wish me luck.