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Divorce is:
warm milk in the gut
an uninvited guest at the party
a late night infomercial
burnt coffee
throwing up after drinking too much, knowing you will feel better any minute
Menelaus, my fish, passed away a little over a week ago. I came home to find him at the bottom of his bowl stiff and colorless. I may have yelled at him. I may have felt like he abandoned me. I may have been completely irrational.
When Helen left Menelaus, he gathered his army and went to win her back. I think I thought I needed a Menelaus. I think I thought I deserved one. But I am not Helen, was never Helen. I thought I was, thought he was Menelaus but there are too many clues leading back through our path that prove our identities were never what I thought they were. When I called him and asked, "Are you crazy about me?" I remember him answering, "I think you're nice." And I thought that is reasonable, that is all a reasonable person can want. But, see, look here, when I pull back the folds of my existence, I find that love is not reasonable. I do not want to be reasonable. I do not want to find that moment to calm myself and be more rational. I thought it is enough to be respected, love ebbs and flows but we were old to soon and it is not enough.
There was the night when I felt it. It was like something had reached inside the small furnace of my heart and relit the pilot light and then I knew that I could never go home. I went back to our little place and felt like he could see me burning, burning. I packed my bag that night. I left two days later. You can never go home once you have left.
If he was ever Menelaus, if I was ever Helen, he is not coming and I am not her. Thank my lucky stars.
- Location:home
- Mood:
drained - Music:street sounds
I bought myself a ticket to Ireland after Christmas, am taking the trip alone because a little travel can smooth the wrinkles of the heart, flush out the old blood that is hiding there. I will drink pints of Guinness and visit the homes of dead authors.
I bought a fish today, a small room mate and named him Menelaus.
Here I am again. Anyway, too much has changed to bother catching up. Haven't written recently. Here's a new poem. Please comment. I'm a bit rusty. I haven't been to a poetry reading since 2005 or so.
CADAVER
I was pretty once
I kept myself for you
Knew what the scalpel would do
Knew the weeks we would spend together
Your fingers gliding acorss the smooth, soft muscles of my thighs
The shine of my body under the light
I glisten for you; I close my eyes for you
You hold my hand for a moment
Forget where we are and reach to squeeze my fingers
When the saw begins to whirr
I shine for you; I unfold and give
My breasts fall against my rib cage
Their glands and netting, tangled strings of pearls
glistening in your hands
My babies knew those riches
My babies knew the warm amrita I kept for them
I would tell you about them,
about the little one taken too early
about the oldest one, who wouldn't come when I called
My hips rise, curved dune bones
A lover once said they were the curves of his guitar
Said he could push and pull notes from me
I open for you; I lay wide for you; I sing for you
Do you see him in there? Do you see all of them
hidden in the folds of my flesh?
Do you pull them, glistening and grey from my thorax
When you open my rib cage to find my heart
shimmering like a ruby?
- Mood:
okay
Hello Everyone!
This is just to say that I have decided to abandon my livejournal and switch over to blogger. I hope you'll stop by and see me. Thank you!
gopeigi.blogspot.com
- Mood:
content
- The Banjo
- The Wedding
- The Job
- Some thoughts on writing
- Mr. Wilson
- A sky full of planets
- The Banjo: After much thought and careful consideration as well as some procrastination and speculation as well as some prospecting (you know, in the river, with the pan, for the gold) I finally went to the guitar shop and got myself a banjo. Ah, the sweet smell of banjo in the morning! I’m renting it from the guitar shop with the option to buy it in November. I’m pretty excited and I had my first lesson on Saturday. After years of taking music lessons in instruments that didn’t really interest me (piano, clarinet) I’m finally excited to practice and go to lessons. My teacher is a really nice guy and a great banjo player. He plays all kinds of banjo (did you know there are kinds? Clawhammer, bluegrass, old-timey) but he especially loves bluegrass and that’s what I’m learning to play. YEE-HAW! I’m having fun.
- The wedding was beautiful. Rollo and I had a really wonderful time and it was so great to see our family and friends. The weather was perfect and just as the reception was winding down, it started to rain so it was perfect. A friend of ours arranged for a limo to take us from the wedding to the hotel and it was a wonderful, romantic way to end the evening. Really, it was perfect. It was very homemade and it felt good to look around and see all of our hard work. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The honeymoon was beautiful and relaxing. We went on a tour of national parks in southern
- I’ve been “promoted” at work. It’s a lot more responsibility so I’m excited to be making decisions and such. I enjoy the job, but I’m constantly reminded that this is not what I want to do for the rest of my life. What’s next?
- My creative writing teacher has said some very encouraging things to me regarding graduate school. I like the idea of and MFA but I’m not sure about the actual practice of it. Here’s the truth about me and writing. I think writing is one of the most humiliating things that I do. I think it is so embarrassing to tell those stories, I think it is terrifying to write stories that you want to actually mean something. I actually hate to write. I feel it moving in my gut and I want it out. I write stories and then, when they are finished, I read them and I hate them for everything they aren’t, for every way they fail. I know, I know, I’m young, I’m getting started… there are all kinds of excuses and reasons, but what if it’s not that you’re young? What if you’re always disappointed and humiliated by what you do? Is it enough to know that only occasionally you will be happy with your work? Is that really enough? And then, there are those writers (we all know them and maybe, secretly, we are them) who can’t write (poetasters, if you will) but they keep writing and they keep sharing and they don’t know and no one says anything and what if that’s you? What if that’s me? I’m not looking to be reassured, here. I’m just saying that it’s possible that you’re not good at the thing you want to do most and maybe you should stop trying.
- Mr. Wilson: I met Mr. Wilson, owner and creator of the
- My dreams are filled with swimming in an ocean full of fish and seaweed and flying through a sky full of glowing planets and flaming asteroids. I don’t think this means anything but if you know something that I don’t, let me know.
- Mood: mellow
- Music:silence
Does this work?
whoa, if this works, I am gonna be so excited.
you were overdramatic.
It must be true. You’re mother said so.
As usual, I am choosing to do this post in the numbered list format. Love it, hate it, get over it. Read what you like, skip what you don’t. I will discuss the following topics:
1. I have forsaken poetry.
2. Weddings are for suckers.
3. The quarter-life crisis continues.
4. Medusa is born again.
5. You should have been there.
1. It is official. I have forsaken poetry. You hear me, poetry? Forsaken! Now, kids, before you get all worked up, it doesn’t mean that poetry and I don’t love each other, it just means that we don’t make each happy anymore. Don’t worry, you’ll still see both of us at holidays and we won’t miss any of your school events, but I will be bringing a new friend with me, his name is short fiction. BOOYAH! I have discovered a new form of writing and I’m really enjoying it. This short fiction class has turned out to be one of the best gifts anyone has ever gotten for me. (A graffiti flower is a very close second and cute rain boots is definitely in on the competition.)
What started out as a terrifying experiment has become a gratifying adventure. I know that I complained about the class at first but I have learned to take what I can get from it (thanks for the advice) and block the rest of it out. I feel challenged, I feel terrified, I feel excited. I forgot that I love to write. When I couldn’t write poetry anymore, I thought it was over, that I would never write again, but I was wrong, and this is great!
2. Yes, it’s true, weddings are for suckers. (no offense, Elizabeth) I just realized what’s happening. I have Rollo. I want Rollo. The church could burn down and the guests could all RSVP no and it would be okay because all I want is Rollo. The party is nice and fun and an expensive lot of work but when it’s all said and done, I am jumping through hoops to get the one thing that I already have. I am grateful for all the friendship, help, and support that people have offered as I have gone through this process. I am excited to celebrate our commitment publicly but in the end, the dress and the cake (well, maybe not the cake, Jodie’s a damn good baker) are unnecessary. It feels liberating to know that there’s only one thing that matters (not counting the cake) and that’s the vows.
3. I’m gonna live forever! Oh wait, no, that’s not the realization that is driving my quarter-life crisis. I’ve realized that I am going to die. That’s right, I’m going to die and it’s scaring the shit out of me. It’s also motivating me. I have realized that I have just one chance on this planet and so I better do it big. I better give it my all and quit waiting around for something to happen. I want to accomplish crazy, stupid, irrelevant things. I want to build a pony out of sugar cubes and ride it to India. I want to accomplish the following things:
a. I want to buy silk in India
b. I want to watch real flamenco dancers in Spain
c. I want to see the monkey temple and celebrate the monkey festival in Thailand (thank you, Amazing Race, you’ve officially changed my life.)
d. I want to move to China and teach English.
e. I want to look a whale in the eye. (I know you’re down there, whale, big as a shopping mall. You think I don’t know, but I know.)
f. I want to get an MFA or an MLS or a PhD, but not an MBA.
g. I want to see a soccer game in Italy with Rollo.
BAM! I want to do everything and that’s all right because I’ve got time, but I shouldn’t wait for a sign. (There isn’t one coming. A whale will not come to my house to look me in the eye.) I should just get started.
4. Remember Medusa? Oh, sure you do. I’m sure that I’ve talked about Medusa to everyone. You’ve probably noticed the longing in my voice as I reminisce about my old critique group. Well, it’s born again! Okay, not exactly, but I have organized a critique group with some ladies and it feels great to be potlucking and critiquing and doing all that good writerly stuff again with a community of like-minded women. Very nice, I will have t-shirts made and they will be sold at our concerts.
5. Finally, last night we went to see The Black Rider. It’s the Tom Waits and William S. Burroughs musical. It was amazing! It was strange and unpleasant and brilliant and wonderful and very pleasing. If you get a chance, you should definitely go and see it. The cast is intensely talented and the writing is phenomenal (if you like that sort of thing). The music is wonderful (if you like that sort of thing) and the costumes are unbelievable. If you want to see it here in LA, but you are nervous about spending all that money on tickets, I recommend that you buy your tickets through HotTix or through Goldstar Events. People left during the intermission because they were so turned off by how strange it was. It was, in the great words of Damien, beautiful like an alien.
- Mood:hopped up on coffee
- Music:clickety-slick, clickety-click
1. Canning with Jenna, Jodie, and Jeanna. My goodness, who knew that putting fruit through a food mill could be so much fun!?!? My day with these three ladies was absolutely a blast. We drank beer, we spilled beer, we watched a Persian cartoon and a Turkish sitcom, we made delicious Spiced Pear Butter. I could not imagine a better way to spend a day with good friends. I am so grateful for their help in preparing for the wedding. Then, we went to Mao’s and ate delicious Chinese food! So, thank you, thank you, thank you, you really made my day off feel like a vacation!
2. Went to coffee with Allison. It was so great to talk to her about everything. It was nice to know that I didn’t need to worry about boring her with wedding details. We talked about all kinds of things and it was all wonderful. YEAH for Allison! Also, Allison offered a lot of REALLY helpful wedding advice for which I am grateful. In fact, I have already started implementing some of it.
3. HURRAH for Stitch N’ Bitch. If it weren’t for the knitting group, I think I’d lose my mind. It is so nice to go and see everyone and just feel completely comfortable for a little while. I can say the stupidest, most awkward things and still feel okay.
4. Also, Rollo is very, very good. He is kind and sweet and good. YEAH for Rollo!
5. I dig the Olympics. This is the first year that I’ve actually watched and it all started at a little Italian restaurant. Rollo and I were waiting for our take out order to be ready so we went into the bar and ordered a Negroni, which is Gin, Campari, and sweet vermouth. Mmm... delicious! Speed skating was on and just as the gin reached my brain, the song changed and the Danish skaters moved rhythmically to Dean Martin singing “Fly Me To The Moon” or something like that. It was beautiful. I’ve been hooked ever since.
6. So, I started this list and I’m realizing that there is so much to be grateful for. If I didn’t thank you above please know that I am full of gratitude to you. Really, what you did or said really meant a lot more to me than you realize.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
- Mood: grateful
Four jobs in your life (best to worst):
1. Teacher at a preschool. I was one of the official potty trainers for an on-campus preschool at KU. We used sign language to communicate with the children because many of them were speech delayed. It was a lot of fun (and very gross) but very rewarding. I would come in during play time and help out through lunch and leave right as nap time was getting started. I learned a lot about children and adults. I also got every cold imaginable. Children are little germ sacks, but very cute so you let it slide.
2. Waitstaff at La Parilla, I loved that job. It was so much fun to get to know the regulars. I liked the fast pace of the restaurant and it really felt like a family environment. There were times when I hated my job (rude customers, smelling like tacos) but for the most part, it felt good to work so hard and I was in the best shape of my life. Also, I got to see Stephen Malkmus for free, a customer told me that they could either leave me a tip or put me on the list.
3. Marketing at Escape Adventures. Let me just start by saying that I loved the people when I worked there and I got to do a lot of creative fun work and I was given some great opportunities to challenge myself and have a lot of fun. I also made a lot of good friends. The company was poorly run. I worked with another guy and our roles were very poorly defined, we ended up not getting along very well because of this. By the time the whole thing was over, I was spending most of my days looking for a new job and eating Cheeto’s.
4. Telemarketing for SNET. I used to hang up my phone and cry but you don’t get to turn off your phone and take a break until its officially break time so you’d have to pull yourself together really fast. I would cry on my way to work because I didn’t want to go. It was the only job in my home town. Wal-Mart wouldn’t hire me so I spent one horrible, sad summer as a telemarketer.
Four movies you could watch over and over:
1. “Benny and Joon”
2. “Royal Tennanbaums”
3. “Moonstruck”
4. “Amelie”
Four TV Shows you love to watch:
1. "Law & Order: Criminal Intent"
2. "Arrested Development" (RIP)
3. "The Office"
4. "My Name Is Earl"
Four places you have lived:
1. Los Angeles
2. Las Vegas
3. Lawrence, Kansas
4. Fort Ashby West Virginia
Four places you have been on vacation:
1. Ireland
2. North Padre Island (worst “vacation” of my life)
3. Edisto Island, South Carolina
4. Minneapolis, MN
Four websites you visit daily:
1. google.com
2. horoscopes
3. gmail.google.com
4. mail.yahoo.com
Four of your favorite foods:
1. pizza
2. macaroni and cheese
3. collard greens
4. biscuits
Four places you'd rather be right now:
1. Chicago
2. Portland
3. home
4. Minneapolis
Your Four Favorite Types of Yarn:
1. Misti Alpaca
2. Noro Silk Garden
3. Alchemy Bamboo Silk (even with a discount I can’t afford it)
4. Socks That Rock
- Mood:
working - Music:none
I rode the bus to campus which was a pretty fun adventure. I forget sometimes that LA has a pretty good bus system, even if it isn’t the best in the country it can still get you from point A to point B if you give it time. I was confused at first but a very helpful girl helped me get the appropriate transfer and even walked me to the bus stop. I felt like an old woman but I was grateful for the help.
The class is interesting. The teacher is named Krusoe, he teaches at Antioch and wrote the novel, Iceland. He got pretty good reviews and Amis really likes his stuff. So he is good and I feel that his input will be valuable. Also, he has the most wonderful, bushy eyebrows, fantastic, splendid, two thumbs up for the wild eyebrows.
He began the class by identifying the types of short fiction that he will not accept as homework, not because he does not like but because he cannot write it himself and therefore feels that he has no business trying to teach it. So, I will not be allowed to write the following genres:
Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Romance, and best sellers. He told us that if he could write a best seller he would not be teaching the class but would be floating in his pool instead.
This does not bother me. I tend not to like genre fiction and I certainly have not plans to write it. To each his own right?
Also, we will all be getting a B. He says that we could die during the class and still get a B. We could win the Nobel prize and still a B. This is because he does not want us to write for the wrong reasons. He does not want us writing in an effort to please him so that we can earn a better grade. “Why not just give us all A’s?” a student asked.
“Because I don’t want for you to have delusions of grandeur,” he coolly replied, “besides, no real writer ever thought they deserved an A, you should always feel like you could do better. Except that guy who wrote Bridges of Madison County, I bet the thinks he should get an A.”
I like this guy already.
