Saturday, March 31, 2007


Thursday when I wake up well fed and rested I am simply determined to not strike a lasting mark. I want to eat an egg tart in China Town, ride the bus around. Everything seems deceptively metronomic but I know when I look back this time will have been lightening pace like one flutter of notes, and today, with my mom and my niece I just want to not feel rushed.

In the afternoon I leave them downtown to go meet Brandon for a drink just up the street from my uncles house. A few minutes later my mother pokes into the patio where we are seated and insists we come back to the house for dinner.

Moments like these are stultifying because I compartmentalize on the premise that someone will always behave badly, that they speak different languages, at least undecipherable dialects at each other or mention that I peed the bed once when I was seven. Agh. Brandon accepts.

Natch. Things go swimmingly. My uncle is a cranky professor but is nevertheless charmed by Brandon. We talk physics, metaphysics and drink wine. My aunt brings us out onto the deck to see the moon over Lake Washington. I never feel the need to kick shins under the table not even once.

Shortly after dinner Brandon and I leave, go have a beer then say our goodbyes.

I get him out of the house and away from my family just in the nick of time. When I go back in all the family photos are out, and the potential for disaster is spread around the office. Eek.

Friday, March 30, 2007


I am so impatient for progress and the huge sweeping changes I've been envisioning for the last three years, the last forever years, that I have actually begun to hope I haven't wished too too hard. I might already have the threshold momentum for scary fast change, for the taking of my breath. Dont ever dare wish too hard, one best wish with deep breaths and long syllables. SAVE US IT DOESNT ALL COME TRUE.

This is a very big week for me, this last week of March. We brought Edison to the vet on Tuesday following up on his appointment last month at the end of February after which he did not stop drinking disconcerting lots of water. WITH THE WATER STILL! And it isnt so simple, an unquenchable thirst... it is thinness and high levels of calcium. In the month since, he weighed in a sobering four and a half pounds lighter.

ITS BONE CANCER MOST LIKELY BUT WE WILL NEED TO XRAY HIM TO KNOW FOR SURE AND TO WHAT EXTENT. I am all business here because I refuse to suffer the grief of burying my dog every living day from now until I am doubled over next to his grave eating dirt because something has to fill the gaping hole inside of me please do not be gone. NOT WHILE THERE IS SOMETHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT!

We went in on Wednesday for XRAYS which showed nothing conclusive and after over one thousand dollars in vet bills in one week we know simply that he is drinking an awful lot of water, is thin, calcified and that we cant to a damn thing about it.

That same evening I drove to Seattle to visit with my mother and my niece who had flown in from Nevada and Southern Oregon respectively for spring break. My uncle who lives above the shores of Lake Washington threw open his home for us all. Thursday I awoke there, fed and well rested,thinking WOAH, with my mother here and we are exactly one year to the day from that spring break bone shattering debacle. I was confined in that cast in perpetuity. It was exquisite and without end!

And too, four years ago today I lay thrashing about in 103 degree delirium for several days. I tried to keep smoking, valiantly, but in the humid jungle of sick couldnt get my cigarette to stay lit and when the fever broke I was determined to not smoke again.

It is a milestone week for me. While all the dying and vacationing, momentum keeps moving me right along. Choices that push me further into forever, the card printers and music makers and cake bakers. This wedding is ON folks, and I almost believe even if I left now, packed up a small carpet bag and headed for Cincinnati there would still be cake and thirty-five thousand blooming sunflowers. This party hardly needs me anymore.

Its all a blur of motion.
My lip is swole up from the inside like the histamines believe I am under attack. It is sexylip, like kiss me lip cause I am waiting to be kissed lip. If only my eyelid started twitching from the inside then I could wink at you, seduce you without even trying.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Its the future I am trying to kill

In case I didn't mention it yet, I am no longer working at the restaurant. One fine day when I was in there to check my schedule for the next week I just decided it was time to give notice. The Thursday before TequilaCon was my last day, almost two weeks ago now. I mention it because there is a little hop in my step and sometimes I even have to point my toe just to touch the ground. I get an adrenal-blood surge when it reoccurs to me the evening wont be wasted in that dungeon of ill will. Some categories of feeling, distaste for one, I experience like a sledge hammer.

Last night I woke up from the awfullest dream in which I was lying in bed after a lurid affair with a big fat man. At the start I am leaning against his belly smoking and he says to me I HOPE MY SIZE ISNT GOING TO BE A PROBLEM FOR YOU and from the tense he uses my mind starts racing because I never could promise I would be there tomorrow...

...and it occurs to me that I am engaged and not only is it horrifying to remember that you are engaged during the middle of a tryst but it is also the perfect excuse and I start berating myself like OH MY GOD, I AM SO HORRIBLE, I AM ENGAGED, WHAT AM I THINKING, WHAT AM I DOING and, that getting me off the hook I run out into the yard and there are fresh earthy graves of two children I had killed. I am panicky paranoid and someone else thinks we should move them because they are pounding in our conscience like The Tell-Tale Heart.

So the 'someone' works to exhume a baby who starts to attack me and I am in forested yard trying to kick a dead baby. When I wake up I writhe around yelling ICKY ICKY IT WAS SO ICKY until I fall asleep and dream about saving lives by making timely phone calls in an awkward but heartfelt shot at redemption.

ANYWAY, my most recent thoughts* regarding the internet harken back to breakfast post TequilaCon when Jen and I squealed over eggs our love for Roy... OH MY GOD, MEEE TOOO, I LOVE HIM! and Don and Wiggy who doesn't even blog but has her own presence and, of course the Ashabot and her puppets, cockroaches, birds and poetry (loco). And then there is one of my very favorite bloggers JudyBluesky who must be one of the best kept secrets on the internet...

*....My thoughts being, mostly, about how blogs segregate, affiliate and discriminate themselves amongst the millionbillion voices and what it means for why who is heard. Thoughts still forthcoming....

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Think BIG

Yesterday Sascha stepped in and took over my wedding planning while I just nodded and said YES and OH SURE over and over again. I am so in love with her, stillstillstill. She is my yard stick against whom I gauge the relative value of everyone I meet. SASCHA YOU ARE THE MOSS GROWING ON THE NORTH SIDE OF EVERY TREE IN THIS DARK FOREST I CALL LIFE.

Will the chairs be set in a semi-circle? Who will herd? Two processional songs, one recessional? We'll be glad to pelt you with birdseed if you wish! Lets consider the light. The sun will set that day at 8:51 but the light might be very... either beautiful or contrasty by 7:20.

And she will also be the officiant.

Almost 10 years ago first she Pastorized me, and on homemade letterhead for our Vida Loca church I acknowledged her back as a leader and church official. We took the document downtown and she registered herself as a legal marriage officiant, then married Jen and Nigel on a weekend that gives me vertigo to recall. I told Clark it would mean a lot to me if she officiated our wedding. It only seems proper. It makes me feel like a player in my own destiny, married under my own auspice.

Tonight the air quite chokingly full of blossoms promised me everything. Fleet footed and dusky tonight it's like I have 87 more years to go, which is a very long time indeed. I will have more then enough time to work on my singing voice and will forget to be afraid.

I feel a little hallelujah in my step because everything in springtime is so right. Arg.

Friday, March 16, 2007

Speaking of...

Today is one of those days I am feeling fiercely protective of myself, like everyone intends to steal something I cant hold, taste, or even name. I say one of those days because they are often enough to say so, and on those days I have a wincing tic that looks and feels like fear. So I called my mom and wondered to her if I was trying to talk myself out of getting married or into getting married. When I got home there was a dead cat at the end of the driveway and we stood looking out the window wondering what to do. I don't want to walk around asking everyone if they know where their cat is.


But we did. No one could say. And then we buried it in a white death shroud with a fistful of cat treats. I cut the only flowers in my yard, quince blossoms and the lone daffodil. It was a moth-eaten slug punched daffodil but it was the best I could do.

After a moment of consideration I added a dinosaur action figure and decided maybe it's just silly to get cold feet when life is so short.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007


I leave at twilight in a reflective vest and striped gloves and run west towards an unspectacular sunset, toward the river running behind the big Iowneverything houses. The oak groves are mostly gone now but for the larger properties where a few clusters still stand. This all was once a mature savannah of deciduous trees and, I like to imagine, dappled light. Twittering, scampering, dropping acorns. Instead, the cars rush past me with an absurd sense of entitlement. The setting sun is so bland, almost utilitarian this night while the deep blue east is soulful and sublime.

This is my first run in a week thanks to the sudden germyspectacular company of 569 million children who swarm the halls where I now work. I see them, the claims adjusters and porn stars and suicides of tomorrow, so much bruising and loss ahead of them. So much impatience and melancholy and mediocrity forever waiting for a moment of explosive joy that will make it mostly worth another day. They are so adorable I don't even mind getting a little sick.

I have overestimated my health tonight and by the second mile feel tiredness seep from the outside all the way in. Still, when I slow to a walk an hour later I'm almost doubled over with the fervor and bigness and lust of endorphins.

Sometimes when I pass someone on the street I see them in a slick of blood, or maybe with hands bruised around their throats. It isnt that I can psychically intuit their real death, but that a death will unfold for each of them, that perhaps the final chain of events has already begun... that fascinates me to no end. I roll it around in my mouth like a marble and pocket it in my cheek, I feel for its shape under my skin. They all will die. I will die.

It is life in the meantime that I am running from. They will all die but they will have fought endless battles, against time, against futility, against themselves and against others. Every moment of joy will exact its price, then pain its rewards. Life and its seasons are infinite but predictable and I can't stand the cliche. I am facing inward all the time for a split second of control, a moment that I can wield with pure grace.

In the face of all that what else can I do? Out here on the road I can choose the way I feel pain. The way I see it, running is more then a mere act of rebellion, it is an act of extortion.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Okay, I fixed it!

Mayans to cleanse site after Bush visit

link courtesy of spaceoctopus

TequilaCon 2007

TequilaCon, come and gone. After a year of penpalmanship with Jill we finally met... and at last Jenny, who sent me a getwellsoon card of her very own art with a selection of Family Circle clippings in a care package last spring when I broke my wrist (awesome!). I was sorta stunned by the dimensionality of these girls and how they carved out space as they live and breathe. All these bloggers, live. A-live.

Guardian Angel Personal Alcohol Test

I've withdrawn from this blog relationship somewhat, feel quizzical, it evolving of its own accord along this trajectory until one day I'm drinking single malt scotch in a hotel room at the Kennedy School wearing a fancy lanyard and forgetting to introduce myself as Asia.

The whole affair was better then great but terribly short and had the disconcerting tendency to shift fluidly from place to place so I hardly met anyone it seemed. Jenny and I slipped into the Adult Prom and stole an ABBA dance. I roamed the halls and the bars and the hotel rooms and ate peanut butter and jelly, drifted in and out of assemblings of bloggers.

Baby bloggers: Sibyl, Dustin and Vahid

Brandon and Jill and I stayed up till almost dawn. I don't surely know, those heavy school curtains... but at least long after the halls were deserted and echoey.

ghost face

In the morning the four of us, Jenny, Jill, Brandon and I went out for breakfast later joined by Shari, where we toasted TequilaCon '07 and declared it a smashing success.


Late in the evening my shoulder started aching like all the other times, like the first time when I lost some sensation in my thumb. And the next time when I couldn't sleep for a month. Tonight I made a cup of valarian tea with ten tea bags and let it steep until it was black and silty and pure bitter. It was a little over the top maybe and did nothing but ruin my posture. You should see me, I am all slumpy and relaxed but for that rhomboid. Ouch.


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