happenstance

Choices - Jerry Merrill's MySpace Blog |

2009-10-03T17:36:00.001-07:00

Choices - Jerry Merrill's MySpace Blog |

Shared via AddThis

Kanye vs. Jerry vs. GF (TMI Alert) - Jerry Merrill's MySpace Blog |

2009-10-03T17:35:00.001-07:00

Kanye vs. Jerry vs. GF (TMI Alert) - Jerry Merrill's MySpace Blog |

Shared via AddThis

dave matthews band

2009-05-03T18:12:00.000-07:00

crush me
me
i've known misery
we met in 1965, in utero
i felt an imperceptable ridge
left in my mother's womb
where my father's fist
found my brother in his sac
and left a shiner

crush me
me
not her
my heart was born in pieces
drawn and quartered
each time my brother
took his rage out on
me

my heart can be bored
and rebound

but i have seen her smile
it's depth
millimeters smaller now

i was confronted by her eyes
tinted by loss and betrayal
it's happened again

crush me

i am not a faerie
i was never an angel
i never dreamed of happy endings
i accepted my slow death

crush me, because to watch her is too painful

weezer

2008-11-14T17:26:00.000-08:00

"she's not dead yet."

i ached for my mother. my grandmother had been dead to me for at least 3 years but for my mom - who was killing herself changing pissed sheets, feeding grandma at 2 am and existing in a house piled with belongings no longer of use - she was not dead yet.

i knew then, though ma would never admit it, she was waiting for the "moment." the moment that comes when there is no more to be done; it's over. we acquiese. everything melts away - pain, sadness, anger. the dying and the dying later see each other for who they are and there are tears and apologies and i love yous.

but sociopaths don't ever have the moment, i thought, in the few minutes after i processed my my mom's declaration. still i would never say so. it wouldn't register. that's her mother. she's an only child (not withstanding her half brothers & sisters from a paternal secret family hidden until her father's death).

she's her mother. the mother who raised her, who choked her, who criticised her, who crushed whatever joy she started with. this is her mother who in her state of dementia has now declared that she has an adopted son who she's leaving her house and estate to. (she's referring to my brother who has lived with her, practically rent-free, for the last 15 years and has neither treated her well, nor visited her when she was in the hospital or assisted living).

my mother is waiting for the deathbed epiphany.

"she's not dead yet."

for all of her complaining, her disgust, her declining health - a 70 year old woman taking care of a 90 year old woman - that's what keeps her.

me? i'm sick. jensen is sick. sick to think that the woman we love will be in the grave shortly after her mother is because the Grand Dame of Negativity managed to suck out her soul as she left this world.

daft punk

2008-11-21T18:09:00.000-08:00

what am i to do?

simply wrap it up gently, stow it away in my "keepsake box" which is nothing more than a plain green rubbermaid tub that might have been a yard clipping bin in another time. this love, like a well-worn satin chemise that has carassesed my body, shrouded me during sleep, keeps me away from the precipice.

i cannot give this life back, though it's true, it may not fit. it doesn't seem fair. not really. i can't seem to stem the flow of change. for once, i'd like the status quo.

stasis, please.

it'll seem like i'm trading up or some such nonsense. but honestly, i'm just speculating -wagering everything. the truth is, there is nothing in life worth gambling with but your heart.

Kings of Leon

2009-08-14T00:12:00.000-07:00

I awoke
by Jerry Merrill

You didn't know, but I awoke
in the dark heat, bathed in a gentle glow
the music, the flowing shape of your back
the light of the sheet around your waist
my breath was gone, and in its place,
Love, Desire, Deep Passion for the life I now lead
with you.

You didn't know, but I awoke
And in the dense honey air filling the space between us
Our skins glistened, rejecting the heat
Set my eyes aglow inside
I traced your curves with my thoughts and my gaze followed
Until only the heat of you remained in my mind

You didn't know, but I awoke
And then drifted off again
My sleep felt you near and hot
My heart counted the beats between your breaths
As I held one foot in this world, and one in the next
And wondered what life was before this time, before this moment
If it was living at all

You didn't know, but I awoke
When loving you in my sleep was not enough
I opened my eyes to gaze upon you
Until that too was not enough
I returned to sleep

To walk and speak with you
As in the day before
Hold your hand and kiss
As in the day before
Hear your voice and feel your gaze upon me
Again

You didn't know, but I awoke
And lived the day and the night again.

rare earth

2009-07-08T16:53:00.000-07:00

home slice

I miss inchworms & jackrabbits in the yard. I miss deer in the park across the street. I miss the moonlight reflecting on my brother's face in the middle of the night when he would stare at me inches from my face and whisper fervently "yo, chris, chris, you awake?"

I miss stairs and basements where my grandmother would have parties for her friends and after many "highballs" they'd watch us kids get out on the floor and dance. "Awwww, git it now!". "Wooo! Aw, shucks, go on girl!". And the "ol' folks" would laugh in a cloud of smoke and bourbon.

I miss running through the forest coming home late from school feeling foolish but scared anyway. Our fireplace, the field where I had my first kiss with boy my mother said I wouldn't give the time of day if he were black because he was nothing but poor white trash.

I miss perhaps everything and unquestionably nothing since I moved away when i was 18 & I've haven't lived there since.

But I miss it.

she & him

2009-07-02T08:47:00.000-07:00

i know what sweetness means
the moment before a ring finger presses an ivory key
the quick caress in preparation for love
its delicacy on the tip of my tongue
delectable, discriminate, indelible
but ephemeral and known only to me
its elusive grace granted like a child's whim
i've known sweetness
i've felt it, i've called out its name

and you call me sweetness

i know what sunshine means
her face - despair tripping across her mouth
another early morning - dark, gray
still i feel warm
it's this sun around which i revolve
what winter has laid in my soul yesterday, that day
or a passing hour
her voice, his smile, your touch
defrosted my spirit
i've known sunshine
i've felt it, i've called out its name

and you call me sunshine

you bring to me what i gave to them
you love me as i have loved
touch as i have touched
glow as i glow

i see what my love looked like
i feel what it feels like

how could anyone live up to it?

method man

2009-06-14T15:24:00.000-07:00

Grate Expectations [purposeful mispelling] by Jerry Merrill

I understand WHY we have expectations.

They're actually an outcropping of the most basic learning skill. Pavlov referred to it as 'conditioned response.' It's the basic concept that you know causality, and expect the same outcome for the same causality. Pretty basic stuff.

But there are other, far more complex sets of expectations that seem to come from somewhere else- like when the mind and it's logical interpretation of cause and effect in the physical world is injected with a little LSD from our hopes and dreams.

Lately I've been stung a few times by these kinds of expectations. They can simultaneously be the source of great endurance against adversity, and a far too rigid task master that warns of imminent danger where none existed. By expecting too much positive, or by being too gentle in pursuing expectations, we can fight on through a series of events that most in their objective viewpoints would've excised from their lives, until a deep wound is cut. By expecting too much negative, or forming too rigid a set of expectations without flexibility we often discard the very treasures we seek the most.

[companies]
I watched as a group of investors, reeling from the reality of the economic downturn, let an asset worth 60 million dollars erode into a 6 million dollar fire sale. They felt they needed to cut their losses. Their expectations were not met, and as a result they were willing to wash their hands and walk away. I can't tell you how the story ends, but there is technology involved that is cutting edge and years ahead of it's time. It's now changed hands for a fraction of what it cost to create. Someone lost a lot of money. Someone else gained a lot of money. Expectations.

[relationships]
I am being granted an education regarding my own intuition, and how expectations can really screw up relationships that would otherwise be golden. Since this is a 2-part statement, let's talk about one part at a time.

When we meet someone in a general social setting, get to know them, and start dating, it's difficult to form expectations. We see, we feel, we contact, we go. I met someone, and then something got in the way. Years went by with distant contact, and while we were obviously two peas in a pod in many ways, when the time came to try-out the bond we had developed and see how it did on the racetrack, there was a wreck. Why? How could two people so in tune get hung up? There were a few causalities involved, but the biggest one by far was rigid expectations.

Images had developed in both of our minds - images that did not accurately show either of us. I knew this was happening, and had a premonition. I wrote a song about it. Posted a blog about it (November of last year - http://jerrymerrill.blogspot.com/2008/11/pedestal.html) And so what to do when the inevitable time came to re-establish an in-person relationship?

"The deeper in the sand you bury your feet, the easier it is to break you off at the knees." -origin unknown

Of course, there were disappointments - things that I wanted to be true that simply weren't. But the key in all such things is letting go. And when I did, when I could simply admire her for who she was, and not try to fit her into my mold of what I thought she should be, something happened. I began to focus upon amazing qualities about her that I had never thought to include in my expectations. I came away with a wonder for the complexities and beauty of a unique individual that I had already loved from afar - rather than a checklist of ways in which she failed to measure up, which is where I would've been if I had not let go of my expectations.

Sadly, I'm not certain that my fall from her pedestal was quite as gently attenuated. I think my statue lies in broken bits upon the floor. But there is nothing I can do about that. Like false expectations, it's just one more thing to let go.

Expect nothing, and all is a gift.

everclear

2009-05-10T21:25:00.000-07:00

emptiness Becomes openness

i just returned from a barrio fair with my daughter. it was everything it shouldn't have been - small, rickety, dirty, cheap and sparse. it's mother's day and my daughter's birthday weekend and this is how it ended.

i didn't know how the weekend would go because right now, i'm tapped. it's nothing new. in fact, it doesn't even really concern me. only in the sense that i know it won't stay this way and i'm employed and i'm a firm believer in the circular nature of money. it comes and it goes. and when it goes, it will certainly come again. still that philosophy was hard won. and it's not particularly popular or even explainable to a 15 year old.

so, there would be no celebrations; no presents exchanged; no dinners or brunches. it was going to be a long haul till the next paycheck and there was no way around it. and to add insult to injury, i was selling cds at ameoba just to get some groceries for the week. it casts a pall over the weekend.

i know i shouldn't feel guilty. i know i should be strong. i know there is more to life then presents and money and whatever else there is that has a price tag. blah, blah, blah. can i step outside myself to find it? i couldn't. not today, not yesterday and certainly not friday (another miserable work day with miserable people who want to make you feel as miserable as they do).

and then i told someone. i told one person who has more vision and more instinct than anyone i've ever known. one person that for some unfathomable reason does not want to see me fall - and manages to steer me clear of the banana peel before i get to it. he knows that money can't buy happiness and there is more to life than... blah, blah, blah.

today he did something that had nothing to do with money. he wired money. a mother's day gift that is coincidentally a birthday gift because i had j on mother's day back in 1994.

neither one of us (j or me) felt anything about getting money at 6:30 pm on a Sunday. the weekend was over. we had already made do with what we had.

it is what it was.

still we picked the money up at ralph's. while we were there, j got her favorite snack - gold fish, i got cat food and gummy bears - tomorrow, gas. next stop - blockbuster.

and that's when we saw it. the fair. a barely visible, dimly-lit, old fair in North Hollywood park. j wanted to stop. i didn't want to, but i did.

it was chilly. the rides made me dizzy. and j definitely cheated on the slide race. we spent about $22 not counting the jamba juices. i told the jamba juice banana that i had the best kid in the world. and j agreed with him when he said she had a great mom. we were only there for an hour. and it was amazing.

it's mother's day and my daughter's birthday weekend and this is how it ended: sipping overpriced Jamba juices while walking back to our 15 yr-old car from a barrio fair laughing our brains out.

today, my friend gave me a chance to feel what life is really about not just know what it's about. that was the best gift i've gotten in years.

swing out sister

2009-04-22T21:23:00.001-07:00

No big deal
No big fucking deal, you say
Right
Of course not

It doesn't matter
Nothing matters

My life doesn't work
They're all almost dead

Hyperventilation aside
I can't seem to die anyway
so what the HELL

Nevertheless

This is big

THIS is risky

This is ME

letting go
of me
Of she, of her

Is this who I've been
Trying to kill all along?

journey

2009-03-22T16:26:00.000-07:00

It's been a while. I've often thought that when demons are on my shoulder, I am more creative or have more to say, more to write. However, January 31st proved to be the undoing of yet another fiction I've lived by. At this point, I don't know what is true anymore. I only know now that it is easier to let go, then it is to hold on. And simply because there isn't much to hold onto. The sweetness that I find dear cannot comfort me in the moments that I need it most - after a shattering day of work and humiliation, after a confusing throwup of emotions from those closest to me or when I simply don't know what's next, which is often. More often then it seems it once was. How have I become so befuddled at 42?

I want very much to share what happened in an open and honest manner, that day, that Saturday before a new month. Nonetheless, everything is at risk, at all times now and it's a pity. It's a pity because secrets can kill you (among other things) and they have and they certainly will.

g. love & special sauce

2008-10-08T21:23:00.001-07:00

the canvas (by chad zeen)

She lay in comfort as my mind envisions pictures of orchids embrace her supple skin.
Vines of the morning glory mixed with trumpets wrap and hold her ever so gently.
She moans as the flowers blossom about her, gasps and shudders as leaves brush her shoulders.
A sky of satin is her backdrop, a smile that illuminates the scenery like the sun breaking the horizon in a desert landscape.
All the wild with its inhibitions gives in and is drawn to her magnificent beauty, like a moth to a flame.
With her I can paint all that I dream, makes me become the true artist that I am.
She is the canvas that will become the masterpiece of my life.

queen

2008-10-08T21:22:00.000-07:00

Untitled
by chad zeen

I close my eyes to rest my mind, the swirl of colors in a wave of warmth embraces me as my imagination paints the perfect details and contours of your face.
My body tingles as your gaze passes over me, my heart pauses as your eyes meet mine, the world is spinning in a blurry haze around us, the background turns silent as I go deaf in anticipation of the first note of your voice, my pulse quickens as your lips part, revealing your tour smile my breath is taken from me.
My hair stands on end as I feel the warmth of your breath on my face only to fall flaccid as your lips touch mine, my arms ache for your embrace and the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders with a hug.
I drift now, like an infant in his mothers arms feeling safe and secure as I feel the soothing beat of your heart for I truly rest now, for what you do to me.

the crystal method

2008-11-09T19:18:00.000-08:00

A: Does it mean that I should see a psychiatrist if I’ve thought about it?
B: Yes. But then I’d have to go too. Maybe we could get a deal like you do with personal trainers.
A: You think about it?
B: All the time. Well, not all the time, but frequently.
A: Me, too. Enough, anyway.
B: Why?
A: Because I’ve done a lot of great things when I was younger and now I’m at a stand still in my life. I don’t want this struggle. And you?
B: I don’t know. I guess I feel the same way. Nothing’s working. Everybody talks about growing old gracefully but then nobody does. Old people are put in homes if they haven’t had face-lifts or become Mr. and Mrs. Jack LaLanne. Besides, even if I wanted to be power-granny, I still have to live through my 30’s.
A: Right.
B: How do see it happening?
A: Oh, sometimes, it’s pills and a candlelit bath – very dramatic yet romantic and peaceful. Other times, it’s just off Mulholland Highway.
B: Oh, my God, me too. Instead of taking the bank to the left you drive straight off the cliff.
A: But then I think about the people-
B: Down below in their houses-
A: And they may not have insurance, or you could kill the kid-
B: In the playroom. Exactly.
A: Right, right. Sometimes, I hope some one will do it for me. Maybe I’ll be in the wrong place at the wrong time like a bank robbery or something. The guy has me as a hostage and I whisper in his ear “Do it, just do it.” Not like heroics or anything, you know, saving anybody, but I end up dead. Just another nameless victim.
B: Well, I guess that wouldn’t technically fit under that category. I mean only you would know you asked for it. That’s a great way to save face. You know what my biggest fear is?
A: That no will come to the funeral.
B: How’d you know?
A: Like it’ll be a really small turnout. Not like the ones you see on television where there’s no room in the church. Like they could sell tickets or something. It’s the last party you’ll ever throw and no one shows up. That’s so LA.
B: Been there, dreamt that. I’d come honey. I swear and I’d bring people.
A: Ditto.
B: Did you see that Felicity where they went to a total strangers funeral?
A: Yes, yes, and the dead guy was drop-sorry-gorgeous. He was a hottie.
B: He can’t take the place of the guy who plays the boyfriend.
A: Right, right. Are you still going out with David tonight by the way?
B: I think so but I don’t want to call and look too needy. Why do they always wait until the last minute?

heart

2008-10-08T21:10:00.000-07:00

Thoughts of you
by CAZ

written to me in the beginning of our relationship

I look, I eat
I move, I sleep

I'm busy with various activities
but still I hold these constant thoughts

Thoughts which unlike seasons stay the same
Like each morning brings fresh dew
Every day brings me thoughts anew
Still remaining thoughts of you

coldplay

2008-10-07T23:29:00.000-07:00

some skies have blue shadows

moments after

blowing storms and misty winds

behind those summer rains

were gifts of he

visions

still & delicate

like sun knifing

through a loveless winter

whispers

panting into moaned screams

when he watched

out of these shadows

(together – if only to please a drunk & raw urge)

there was language

essential

playful

bittersweet

if they could picture spring

like honey peach hair on a bare breast

timely, luscious and true

he and she would love deliriously

after their sleep

everlast

2008-09-29T21:16:00.000-07:00

Do not leave us
There
Beneath the crying dreams

Under the ache
Of an elaborate void
Like a petal less garden

Go after us

Soar above the winter
As a thousand visions
Produce frantic screams

She asks you to rip through
The dressing gown cloaking our lives

Never did we want our death

the cure

2008-09-22T22:54:00.000-07:00

i don't want to write about this. i doubt anyone would. but i have a friend that i consider a kindred spirit. he and i have met once. only once. and for whatever reason, we've never spoken again. i'm certain, he remembers far more about why or why not it is what it is than i do. for that i am not proud. but we're here now and for me, he resonates. so for him i write this because i know he'll understand every layer - the loss, the disbelief, the betrayal, the forgiveness, the gratitude - every nuance that really i can't begin to convey.

i got the results of my third but not final herpes simplex II test - negative. and again i was dumbfounded.

around four or five years ago, i tested positive for herpes II. i annually screen for all STIs (they are called infections not diseases - STDs - now) when i visit my gynecologist for my checkup. even though i had been seeing one guy exclusively, i figure you can never be too sure so i always check anyway. needless to say, it was quite a blow. i called the guy furious, cried, accused, screamed, etc. he denied, blamed, reasoned, etc. it did not end well. he wasn't exclusive to me anyway so it wasn't like our relationship was ruined. it wasn't really a relationship to begin with but that's not germane to the story.

when i say that i was devastated that is not even the half of it. i mean, i cried many nights. i thought of myself as a leper. i read everything i could. i didn't date. i couldn't imagine telling anyone i was going to date. when i finally got around to dating, i would stop after the third date so i wouldn't have to reveal the truth. when i finally got up the courage to tell one guy, he stopped calling. another guy just wanted to be friends. the list goes on.

anyway, i finally met someone that i adored. and i didn't want to blow it.

and i didn't tell him. and we did it.

and i felt horrible. i told him the next day. (no excuses, it was horrible and i was shitty and it had to be the worst thing i've ever done in my life besides trying to off myself.)

here's what happened:

he forgave me.

in fact, he took it really well. he was almost calm. he told me he knew i was his soulmate and the love of his life and that if it was anyone else he would be angry. he wiped my tears, held my face and looked into my eyes and said everything was okay. and i stopped feeling like a broken piece of crystal (pardon the pun).

fast forward, a week or two and yes, he had an outbreak. it was official. i gave him herpes simplex II. and yes, he did bring it up. and yes, he did make mention that he forgave me. he did point out his largesse. not TOO often, mind you. but, i remember at least two or three times. but the thing is, he had outbreaks. clearly, i gave it to him or he wouldn't be having outbreaks, right?

meanwhile, i'm on acyclovir and cream and i'm giving him my acyclovir (since i have insurance) and my cream. what's weird is that i don't have any outbreaks at all.

long story longer, i breakup with him because his definition of soulmate precludes monogamy and cocaine use and along comes an overdue annual gynelogical review.

herpes simplex II - negative. How is that possible? The lab that my ob-gyn previously used was screwing up royally. they were using the wrong test and assigning false positives. they could have told me that before my mother labeled me a whore. the only way to be sure was to come back again in six months for yet another test.

six months later - negative.

now i have to call the guy that i accused of giving it to me and apologize. boy, did i feel like a schmuck. i mean i really yelled at him. crying screaming fits of yelling. not cute.

okay. i've eaten shit and i've called my mom and tried to redeem myself. (that was of no use, really she just wanted to forget the whole thing anyway).

but what do i really think about after the third test two years later? i think about someone who would let me think that i gave them herpes. i think about how lucky i was to not get it. and i think about the old adage about "mysterious ways."

too many layers to convey. but i know one person who gets it.

t.l.c.

2008-08-31T13:21:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from "Down the Stairs, to the Right" by me

Mom: We are going to miss the service.

Daughter: She has to go what do you want me to do?

Mom: Nothing. There’s nothing to do.

Daughter: Sweetheart, hurry up. Do you want me to come in?

Granddaughter: No, I can do it.

Daughter: Okay

Mom: I saw Christina in Allure Magazine

Daughter: Mom, why do you always bring her up? I’m not even friends with her anymore. I haven’t seen her in years. I don’t need to know her every editorial or catalogue.

Mom: Oh, it’s just that she’s doing so well.

Daughter: So are many other people that I don’t know.

Mom: What are you so testy about?

Daughter: It’s just that you constantly talk about her and her accomplishments. How ‘bout we talk about someone that I care about.

Mom: Fine.

Daughter: Nadine, hurry up.

Granddaughter: I have to go poop.

Daughter: Can you reach the seat cover?

Mom: She still looks good. She’s dating that beautiful actor that was in “Con Road.”

Granddaughter: Yeah, I got it.

Mon: I saw Ronald in Elle. They set him up on a blind date with one of the editors of the magazine.

Daughter: Yeah, I saw that too.

Mom: Do you keep in touch with him? He’s doing quite well for himself and he’s still single.

Daughter: Don’t think that is lost on me. Now that he’s blown up, he won’t even return my phone calls. As if I’m trying to join the cause. I’ve always tried to stay in touch. Always, tried to visit when I was on the east coast. I can’t call him anymore. It seems like I’m grasping. If he wants to stay in touch, he will.

Granddaughter: Mom, will you wipe me?

Mom: Why are you wiping a six year old?

Daughter: I will wipe her until she’s 18 if she wants me too. It’s her way of needing me.

Mom: Who does it for her at school? She’s obviously capable of doing it herself.

Daughter: I know Mom. Don’t you ever feel like you didn’t do enough? Didn’t you ever feel like you wanted me to have more support than your mom gave you?

Mom: What exactly are you saying?

Daughter: Never mind. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not really giving more at all. Maybe I’m just making up for being inadequate in the first place.

Mom: That’s comforting.

Daughter: Nadine, what are you doing?

Nadine: I want to take off my tights. They’re itchy.

Daughter: Everything is itchy. We don’t have time to dilly-dally.

Mom: I thought after all this time we’d finally become friends.

Daughter: You have always treated me like your friend but it’s not as if I had a choice in the matter.

Mom: I didn’t know I was so unbearable.

Daughter: God, it’s not that, St. Catherine. It’s just that you were so busy unloading your problems on me that I never felt like I could tell you mine. I mean for god’s sake, when I was suspended from school after a near perfect record, you were so obviously blindsided that you actually asked me if I had had an abortion.

Mom: I never said that.

Daughter: Yes mom you did. I couldn’t forget something like that. Nor could I make it up out of thin air. Non-sequitors like that are hard to come by.

Mom: Nadine, wash your hands.

Nadine: Did you tell Mom-Mom about my little sister?

Daughter: It might be a little brother honey. Don’t get your hopes up. (Off Mom’s look.) Six weeks.

Mom: Dare I ask?

Daughter: Same father. (Off Mom’s look.) Mom, I wanted another one. We planned it. He’s a good dad just not a good boyfriend and he makes great babies. Look at your granddaughter.

Mom: You want me to be happy about another …bastard?

Daughter: Now that’s funny. I thought I just heard you use a word that I associate with 50’s, sort of like how groovy was to the 70’s. That was a joke right? That didn’t just intentionally fly out of your mouth and smack me in the face? Did you want to finish up with what you think of me?

Mom: I didn’t …

Daughter: This is what I’ve felt all these years. This is it. And here’s what so funny. When I was in high school, I had a drama teacher who was trying to get the girls in the class to recall a particular emotion. He asked us to raise our hands if we had ever been called a whore or whatever by our moms. I was the only one who didn’t raise her hand. I looked around and smugly felt pity for those poor girls. But you’ve been thinking it all along. You couldn’t say it. That’s why I was always such a goody two shoes. I couldn’t do anything without your approval. I deferred to your taste in clothes, hairstyles, and makeup. I look back on pictures of me at 16 and I look like a 35-year-old secretary. Hell, I look younger now then I did then. No wonder I never was carded. Somehow, I knew intrinsically that you were trying to hide my sluttiness from your society. This must really kill you. No accomplishments, no money, bastard children, teenaged divorcee. I promise you Ma, I won’t go on welfare, and I won’t tell anyone about the food stamps.

Mom: Honey, that’s not it at all. I was just trying to guide you. Your brother was so wild and confused as a teenager. He was using drugs and being kicked out of school every other semester. I didn’t want that to happen to you. Once, I went to a psychic when you were just eight. She said that Michael would be difficult at first but in the end, he would turn out okay. That was a big relief.

Daughter: I’m not going to like this ending am I?

Mom: You were perfect. So quiet and studious all the time. Never a moment’s worry. However, she said, that it would be the reverse with you. That you were great then but you would end up being a “doozy.”

Daughter: A “Doozy?”

Mom: Well, yes. That was the exact word she used.

Daughter: Mom, this is what you based a lifetime of fear on. One word – “doozy.” We don’t even know what that means. Is that a Cybill Shephard “doozy” or a follower of Charles Manson doozy? Are we talking bi-polar disorder or just occasional depression? I mean, my god, mom how could you even take that to heart? Thanks for the vote of confidence. Thanks for endowing me with the ability to second and third guess my life based on the word of a woman dressed in 5 skirts, two turbans and 45 beaded necklaces, smelling of sage – which I’m allergic to.

third eye blind

2008-07-10T00:17:00.000-07:00

I saw a man
waiting on a train platform
who looked so remarkably like you
that my face
flushed and was hot
and my eyes
welled up
in sorrow.

I saw a man
leaning against a station sign
in a cavalier stance so much your way
that I almost
touched him
and my hands
turned to fists
for lack of other restraint.

I saw a man
staring across the railroad tracks
with sleepy almond eyes so like yours
that I lifted my chin
and my lips
kissed the wind
and drank his
sweet breath
on the air.

I saw this man.

He was wearing your shoes
your jacket
your shades
your attitude
your sexuality.

I saw him.

I wished he was a dream.

the kills

2008-06-30T00:26:00.000-07:00

Rolling over on my side, I could not cry , my desperation was so numbing. The agony that silenced my wailings and cut short my tears, rewound the dream to the beginning, where she sat patiently, terrified, sweating and shaking in the dank, barren basement. A gun, pointed at her head, moves closer to her with its long nose and black angles, closer still until the trembling pistol butts her wet, greasy forehead. Her hands reach up to steady it and she waits.

the mamas and the papas

2006-09-11T06:56:00.000-07:00

Vagina Hands

A new nickname was not supposed to be the outcome of our conversation but, truth be told, i wasn't prepared for the conversation at all.

What's wonderful about my relationship with my daughter is that she feels free to query me about virtually anything. Mind you, I made certain that she had plenty of women in her life that she could talk to if she felt uncomfortable with telling me something but apparently our lines of communication are fairly intimate in her conciousness.

Let me back up. It started with the television drama, "House." In this particular episode, a five year old girl discovered how to "pleasure herself." Her mother thought she was having epileptic seizures but Dr. House clued her in on what an orgasm looked like (married with children, no orgasms, how sad). Jensen and I had a short conversation about masturbation (what it was and what happens when you do it - growing hair on your palms, going to hell, typical responses - just kidding).

Here's where it gets brilliant. Not one, not two, but three weeks later; she asks me why people do it. Like what's the point which told me that she hasn't had "stirrings" yet - a relief since she's only twelve and i'm just not ready for boys yet. But having to explain why you would want to handle your vagina is not a conversation I even remotely thought would be on the list.
I mean my parents talked so little about anything sexual that i just assumed that i would be hitting the majors like sex and babies. and let's be honest here, boys don't need any explanation. pretty early on their penises hit up against something and they like the feeling and it's on from there. maybe i'll take her horseback riding...

anyway, so i'm explaining how eventually she'll get the urges that come with puberty and that she'll probably want to touch herself and that everyone does eventually though some do earlier than others. here's where i put my foot in my mouth. i said that it wasn't abnormal for her to think it's weird because i myself hadn't started masturbating till i was in my LATE twenties.

mouth agape, "you masturabate?" well what was i supposed to say? i mean it's nothing to be ashamed of and if i acted otherwise then i would tinge the whole thing with a sordidness that i refuse to give to normal sexuality.

"yes, i masturbate. everyone does. boys more so than girls, but yes." then as we're finishing up the conversation and we arrive at her father's house, in my uncomfortability, i look for support from her father. "doesn't everyone masturbate?" i say to him.

"i don't."

that's right. he leaves me hanging out to dry. and then comes the moniker "vagina hands." i didn't have the werewithal to tell her that my fingers aren't nimble enough so i use a vibrator. after peals of laughter at my expense, her dad did eventually cop to it, which i think is why after a day or so she stopped calling me that and let me hug her with my "vagina hands."

motherhood is a mercurial business.

jewel

2008-06-26T06:50:00.000-07:00

Gossip

hushed children

soundless stares

closed mouth whispers

i've watched

as she moves through

this world

like sun

knifing through winter

lucky girl

my life

would never warrant

such speculation

the fifth dimension

2008-06-21T00:23:00.000-07:00

You came to me
knifing violently through my reverie
awaking me to dream your song.

Sentences,
irreverent strings that
continued winding their way
around space
and my throat,
searched for relevance in what
was your chaos.

Drowning,
struggling to breathe my air,
I stole the wind from your mouth,
while you bound words
around my wrists and feet.

Through the bay window
the moon shown in your face
and it shown in mine
and we laughed and
we imagined ourselves angels
or mutants.