It’s Friday and where are you. I have gotten back in off of this bad evening of flirting with things that are not as lovely, or as real as you. You don’t believe me. I am all evil to you. The center cannot hold. I don’t ask you to live here again. I don’t ask anything. I just wish. Wish that the crook of your hips was mating with mine tonight. That you would push that way. That we could claim things in strange languages to one another. I would like to awake in the morning and go to Publix and buy cold cuts and make a you a fucking sandwich. That would be a dream, but my Saturday won’t have that. Not any more. I loved you through those cold cuts. I loved you through my meanness. I am sorry about that. I collected 4 leaf clovers for you. I am here. I have no other dreams. Just that you will say you love me, let’s try again. I wanted to/ and still want to marry you, G. I have never been so sure in my...
It is at the end of the day when I tend to get sad if I am going to get sad. It’s odd. I know I used to be such a cranky thing when I got home, I was so stressed, but it is at this time of the day that I miss you the most. Knowing that I am going home to an empty house isn’t always the most appealing thing. Sure, I will go out and see friends and do things, but ultimately I will return to that empty house. I am sitting here listening to moderately sad songs and waiting for the Peach Buzz to be done. I almost texted you to ask what you were up to, if you were in town, if you wanted to get dinner or see a movie, but alas I knew it wouldn’t happen. I would receive the same answer that I’ve always received: it hasn’t been enough time, it would be too hard. I know, and I guess I agree. I get more and more settled every day, but tonight that part that can only be calmed by you is getting stirred up, no matter how hard I try to keep it in check. I will figure it out though. I hope you have/had a good weekend. Heck, maybe we will even run into each...
It was a dream, or was it? Last night or this morning? And we are at an inn, with old-timey rooms, large windows, with window sheers lightly blowing – near the beach. You spoke and what you spoke was not completely understood or even heard, the gist of which was that you had gone to the beach with the other man. You said it was a mistake. I understood what you said, but not what you meant. What was a mistake? Going to the beach with him? Breaking up with me? Being there at that time? And then I find myself on the beach with Gates, she’s not pregnant, in a bathing suit and big hat, sunglasses. We lay there silently for a while until I come in to find you. At first you are not there and then you are, coming out of the shower, I guess, naked: pert and dark nipples, pale breast, tan-lined, showing off your summer tan, a certain glow, a small mound of dark hair between your legs, your belly smooth descending toward that mound, hips pronounced, legs slender and strong. I notice the scar on your knee. I notice no other blemishes. You come to me and press yourself against me in a hug, breast pressed hard between us. We lightly kiss. Then you push away, sit on a chair, and start putting on pantyhose. I begin to violently sob, and just ask, Why?” over and over again. I ask why we can’t be again, what happened? You finally say that you do not even think of “us” anymore – it’s only when...
A short song loop entry (MP3)
Why do you not pray anymore? Once you sat on the porch before you moved out and forced me to pray with you, I think ostensibly, that you and I would make through all of the moving out and strife, I think we both thought at that time that it would mean “together.” I guess God works in mysterious ways though. I suppose he could still surprise us again. I feel like I am becoming a novelty here though, just sweet and kind but with no real power in this situation anymore. I hope your new romance is making you steadily more happy. God knows the one with me didn’t have any power to produce happiness for too long. Take care, G. You will be happy. Was playing: Your Ex-Lover Is Dead...
Yes things happened with me and Jenny, and it just so happens that Liz gets her hair cut at the same place where Jenny gets her hair cut, and Tom does, and I have come clean with Tom about it all, and I am sure he has talked with Liz, and since Liz is a gossip hound (not that I don’t like her, or gossip for that matter) I am sure it made its way back to you. We all make mistakes and this was another of mine, but in some strange way, I think it has ended up helping me. She has become desperate and a little crazy at times as I have steadily extracted myself from the situation. When I have had to deal with that drama, I have realized how you must have felt at times, especially during the period after you moved out when I was so sad and desperate myself. I am trying to be her friend, and she keeps writing these things about me, and I am afraid that we might not be able to be friends at all, at least not right now, which makes me a little sad, but may be the way things have to be. I have dated and been around others since we split as well. It has been good, with much less drama than the Jenny situation, but with each person it just hasn’t felt right. I have searched my brain for what is off-kilter and the only thing I can come up with is that these women are not you. I realize that is not fair...
There are too many Toyota 4 Runners of a similar color in this town. Behind the wheel of each could be you. What would you be doing in Buckhead at 2 PM on a Tuesday afternoon? It doesn’t matter, it could still be you. Maybe school got out early and you went to the mall, or to buy a new mattress, or to get a coffee, maybe you are sleepy and lost your way on the way back home. And in the neighborhood, there are at least 24 trucks of a similar age and color as yours, and they drive past the house tormenting me. I try as hard as I can to catch the driver’s face as they pass by. There are too many of these trucks, but only one that is yours. I know yours when it is sitting in your driveway, but outside of that it is hard to tell. There’s no Elvis sticker, the tell-tale sign. The only distinguishing mark, if it still exists, is the Elvis air freshener that hangs from the rearview. Sometimes, I look. I stare hard. Is it you? I will have to try harder. I cannot tell. What does your truck look like? What do you look like anymore? How does your heart feel? And, is the engine running fine? Let us take a ride again one...
Tonight, during 30 minutes at the Local, both Cat Power’s Islands and Tom Petty’s Alright for Now played on the ipod mix. Little pieces of you are scattered throughout my universe.
There are few things as tiring and satisfying as what I’ve gotten to do at work the past few days. As you can imagine, we have been covering the Coretta Scott King funeral stuff a lot. I have been sent on assignments to record audio of the horse-drawn carriage procession taking her to the state capitol, and to record audio for the musical celebration the included performances by Gladys Knight and an address by Oprah Winfrey. I guess one of the things I am proud of this city for is that it is steeped in the MLK legacy. I have been to the King Center before, but these assignments allowed me to touch that world in a completely different way. Doing these the recording and putting together the consequent multimedia pieces has moved me tremendously, despite the long hours it has taken to put everything together. Anyway, ultimately I am so satisfied with the products and the experience. I have been moved to tears many times during all of it and have been completely emotionally wiped. If you would like to take a look at the pieces (on was mentioned previously) here are the links: Coretta Scott King: Lying In State Coretta Scott King: A life...
Because the elevator arrived before the ten count, and because I scored 150 on one word game dated 21 June 2003, and over 15000 in the next, and more than 6000 on the next, and because the cigarette butt evenly split the heating grate and fell to the ductwork below, and because I caught all of the lights on Dekalb Avenue, with no stops, all the way home, and because I did the crossword in under 10 minutes, and maybe because I am reading Ovid’s Metamporphoses… I am changing and you are coming back…...
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