You overlook me. I look over you. Over you. Over you.
Not over you.
And I feel feelings that I dealt with already. Remember dealing with this long ago familiar feeling.
Remember the smooth line of your back meeting your hips, descending into your pants, belt low, perfect skin, precious skin I would protect with my very life. I would guard that line so I could look at that line again and again like my property, like it belonged to me. Like the life forever owed to the someone saves it.
I would save you.
I take this uncertainty and new insecurity. What do they call this: intimacy (dependence?).
I take this disgusting unwelcome emotion and turn my private anguish into poetry. Typing landscapes, spellchecking metaphor, placing commas right between the vulnerability and the judgment of it. So I might prolong the discomfort and learn from it. So I might be even more vulnerable the next time I look over you...
You might overlook me. It might hurt.
I'll make poetry.
Huntington Beach, CA
Placing Commas
Placing Commas
January 29, 2005
Silverlake, CA
This Is What We Call The Muppet Show
This Is What We Call The Muppet Show
January 22, 2005
"Are you stoned?” she said, the gorgeous girl behind the counter, as she packed a fresh pouch of Unity Tea: a fragrant blend of lemongrass, black pepper, cardamom, ginger and that unflavor of flavors, licorice root - identifiable in throat but not on the tongue.
"I just got out of a Bikram Yoga class," I responded feeling purged from an hour and a half of sweat racing to the surface of my pores as if I had been holding it hostage and upon it's release, it had a long lost lover to attack in an aggressive oral embrace to discover if all the wet parts thereof were still loyally his claim.
"That explains it. I wondered what that otherworldly glow was you have." She put the boiling water in the steel teapot, like my nitely bath water, the steam rised. The words, "otherworldly" and "glow" resounded in my mind.
Again, I have been traveling, this time a week in Chicago, where life changed forever. But there I go again, being redundant, as if travel or change haven't become givens in my life. A wedding on the weekend with Smashing Pumpkin’s Billy Corgan and Jimmy Chamberlin, but most importantly my best friend, Jdrive, in attendance, was half Rock-n-Roll/half Midwestern - kinda like me and the things I love most: Downhome Flamboyant, Girl-Next-Door Superhero, Just the Good ol' Bizarre Boys. Then two days shooting a Perkin's commercial, but this time instead of being talent, I was choreographer - part of the production team - and I tell you, the collaboration and appreciation I experienced from that perspective is definitely something I invite into my career again. Finally, a long anticipated reunion with a few new blatantly brilliant and belligerent magickal friends exposed me to a plant that shattered my concept of reality - even my concept of Chaos, left me baffled and confused and wondering why anyone would ever choose to delay gratification on this earth one day longer. Life isn't a dress rehearsal. This is what we call the Muppet Show.
All this in five days. My life, oh, my life. Swallowing licorice root, surfing free coffee house wireless, looking at a near full moon with an otherworldly glow. Not stoned, but undeniably high. Doing exactly what I always dreamed of doing. Oh, my life.
"I just got out of a Bikram Yoga class," I responded feeling purged from an hour and a half of sweat racing to the surface of my pores as if I had been holding it hostage and upon it's release, it had a long lost lover to attack in an aggressive oral embrace to discover if all the wet parts thereof were still loyally his claim.
"That explains it. I wondered what that otherworldly glow was you have." She put the boiling water in the steel teapot, like my nitely bath water, the steam rised. The words, "otherworldly" and "glow" resounded in my mind.
Again, I have been traveling, this time a week in Chicago, where life changed forever. But there I go again, being redundant, as if travel or change haven't become givens in my life. A wedding on the weekend with Smashing Pumpkin’s Billy Corgan and Jimmy Chamberlin, but most importantly my best friend, Jdrive, in attendance, was half Rock-n-Roll/half Midwestern - kinda like me and the things I love most: Downhome Flamboyant, Girl-Next-Door Superhero, Just the Good ol' Bizarre Boys. Then two days shooting a Perkin's commercial, but this time instead of being talent, I was choreographer - part of the production team - and I tell you, the collaboration and appreciation I experienced from that perspective is definitely something I invite into my career again. Finally, a long anticipated reunion with a few new blatantly brilliant and belligerent magickal friends exposed me to a plant that shattered my concept of reality - even my concept of Chaos, left me baffled and confused and wondering why anyone would ever choose to delay gratification on this earth one day longer. Life isn't a dress rehearsal. This is what we call the Muppet Show.
All this in five days. My life, oh, my life. Swallowing licorice root, surfing free coffee house wireless, looking at a near full moon with an otherworldly glow. Not stoned, but undeniably high. Doing exactly what I always dreamed of doing. Oh, my life.
Chicago, IL
T's Music
T's Music
January 15, 2005
You act like no one's ever told you you are beautiful before. Physically beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking. Timeless. You act like no one's ever appreciated you before. The way you love. It's like you were made to love. What could anyone do but love beautiful you?
I may idolize and fantasize a bit more freely than others. But the way I see it, we're both as right (or as wrong) as we are. And my world is prettier. I make love to whom I'm idolizing. I live my fantasies. Aware I am creating you.
Isn't everything we love about another person really just what we love or wish to develop in ourselves?
In you I create the perfect lover. The passionately focused electrically charged daringly playful. I can feel you in my core - space very very few explore. Here, where I am mine, I am dangerously honest with you.
All else is kisses. And that's where I stay. This kiss cautious. This kiss conscious. This kiss again.
This kiss blind and aggressive. You will hear what I'm saying.
This kiss needy, in fact survival. This kiss could save my life.
This kiss frozen while something inside us trades places.
I bet you get told you are beautiful all the time.
I may idolize and fantasize a bit more freely than others. But the way I see it, we're both as right (or as wrong) as we are. And my world is prettier. I make love to whom I'm idolizing. I live my fantasies. Aware I am creating you.
Isn't everything we love about another person really just what we love or wish to develop in ourselves?
In you I create the perfect lover. The passionately focused electrically charged daringly playful. I can feel you in my core - space very very few explore. Here, where I am mine, I am dangerously honest with you.
All else is kisses. And that's where I stay. This kiss cautious. This kiss conscious. This kiss again.
This kiss blind and aggressive. You will hear what I'm saying.
This kiss needy, in fact survival. This kiss could save my life.
This kiss frozen while something inside us trades places.
I bet you get told you are beautiful all the time.
Hollywood, CA
In You I Have Found
In You I Have Found
January 10, 2005
My Precious One, my Midnite Jewel, reflecting stars and boulevard billboards, reflecting the ravenous passion you see in my wise, well-traveled and welcoming eyes. I have been gone so long. I know. But not forever - because I remember with my heart one moment of soulful intimacy that kept me elated in my glory, alive at my most dire and could not have been a dream all this time. It was certainly of this world, it was you your virgin flesh. And for that memory I have returned. Am I here?
It was difficult to be apart. Without communication. Without word. Without a promise. Without goodbye. What went awry? Seeping leaking though the ceiling, excruciating repetition, obsessive rain. Drips soak a stable mind and threatens the structure from inside. It was the only sound we could count on sometimes.
I will make no excuses and gleam over the pain, but stand here before you letting all of this show. I will kneel at your altar, I will head in your lap, or I will kiss all of my experiences deeply into your lips, so you'll never have to ask where did I go.
The hands may be calloused but they finally know for what they reach. Midnite Jewel, I am ready. Is this home?
It was difficult to be apart. Without communication. Without word. Without a promise. Without goodbye. What went awry? Seeping leaking though the ceiling, excruciating repetition, obsessive rain. Drips soak a stable mind and threatens the structure from inside. It was the only sound we could count on sometimes.
I will make no excuses and gleam over the pain, but stand here before you letting all of this show. I will kneel at your altar, I will head in your lap, or I will kiss all of my experiences deeply into your lips, so you'll never have to ask where did I go.
The hands may be calloused but they finally know for what they reach. Midnite Jewel, I am ready. Is this home?
Hollywood, CA
secrets of a happy woman
secrets of a happy woman
January 04, 2005
We must possess one thing that none but ourselves will ever see. It is our silent gift that we look at in private, hold up to the light,
in the lead darkness
it glistens a little little bit
like perspiration like sweat like heaving chests unaware of
something unimportant
compared to this.
As women, we must have one item of accoutrement that after moonrise, when privacy is assured, with only a mirror and an IPod, we must model for ourselves. When women are alone, we play dress up - we put on the secret something and dance, muscles releasing catching, lightening bolt eyes refracted in oversize mirrors. We are the most alluring creatures this moist moment we have ever had the pleasure to reflect.
(what happens next is determined by the individual and pure random chaos peeking in
in...
in
whatever does happen next, I reccomend it sloppy and weird)
There's someone knocking at the closed bedroom door. I believe I'll let them let themselves
in
in the lead darkness
it glistens a little little bit
like perspiration like sweat like heaving chests unaware of
something unimportant
compared to this.
As women, we must have one item of accoutrement that after moonrise, when privacy is assured, with only a mirror and an IPod, we must model for ourselves. When women are alone, we play dress up - we put on the secret something and dance, muscles releasing catching, lightening bolt eyes refracted in oversize mirrors. We are the most alluring creatures this moist moment we have ever had the pleasure to reflect.
(what happens next is determined by the individual and pure random chaos peeking in
in...
in
whatever does happen next, I reccomend it sloppy and weird)
There's someone knocking at the closed bedroom door. I believe I'll let them let themselves
in
