Disturbed

I didn't leave the house today...

I didn't leave the house today
thoughts of the moon laughing
talking behind clouds
with wispery winded voices
all chiming, climbing
into the stars
like in outer space
where all time buckles
thoughts disappear in the void
when I didn't leave the house today.

I don't know what they are asking
the stories they tell
scratched on the earth
with skeletal hands
banished from life with
brandished pistols drawn
On faces young and handsome
lost to the mist and rusting clocks
settling into the copper dust of time
When I didn't leave the house today.

From a Flash of Light, Quicksilver and Blood

I Love Having Sex With Older Men

Just saying is all.

I AM A CAMERA

I hate flakes

The kind they can't make a shampoo for!

"As I have found in SF, wanting is not the same thing as desire.

So far I have tried setting up scenes twice and both times something came up for you at the last minute after we've made plans-not to mention extensive messages. I don't generally give people a third chance to cancel unless its someone exceptional with whom I have already established a good relationship.

I have no problem playing with those men who have tight schedules, work on call or don't always know their schedules until the last minute-but it is so rare that I find mutual times and energy to connect with them that its often a lot of wheel spinning with very little reward. Eventually I just run out of interest as desire is sublimated into the void."

Man, when I am ticked its hard to hide.

Every Garden is Open

there is little light left
to guide you,
and they may call you a fool
and suggest your failings...
but hang on
the moon is out
don't run off those rails
turn over and silence the voices
and my imagination,
let me sleep forever
my counting of the sheep
heavy in the fields
when it rains.

such furor

Skies are turning Turner,
All blue and gray
and gleaming
white.
And how
we're streaming
through night and day
To stir such furor.

Thinking of you...

every rush of white noise
as the water begins to run...

Every tap of every key
the keyboard makes...

Every door slowly shutting
every creak of the upstairs floor
every moan and groan and
sexual coan that covers
the stones that you
left behind in my heart.

(I want to take a power drill to my temple to let all the heat and pain run away)
(I just wish someone had told me that our love couldn't last and no love last forever)

My face its all lit up

If he is not with me
anymore why does it hurt
where there is a hole
in my heart
the light goes in...
the light goes out..
is it time to dream of sheep?

its a puzzle
with lots of missing pieces
like poppies waving in a field,
never all living or all dead
the life goes in...
the life goes out...
faster than you can blink an eye.

our talk it stretches to
unimportant things
of no consequence
or written sequence
the lines go in...
the lines go on...
but deeper and deeper and deeper
'til they're gone.

My mind is playing tricks on me....

In my lonely hours
hallucinating I hear
your car is always
coming up the drive
the back-up lights
are beeping inside
my mind....

Mark and Steve April 2008 - January 2010 R.I.P

So yesterday during therapy Mark informed me that he was no longer interested in being in a relationship with me, that he was "done, we're done."

So there you have it. that's 3 relationships in a row that have tanked badly, with a lot of heartache and sadness and hurt left between us. I feel all floaty and detached like its not really happening again, after so much, after trying so hard to make it work. What can I say...I did the best I could. In the end it came down to the fact that we weren't really a good fit as a couple, even though there was attraction in the beginning. Like anything you fall in love with from a distance, once you get close enough to it to notice the scars its too late.

All I was left with was sleeping alone, not even being able to touch Mark physically. he stopped even holding my hand in public. You know, I didn't need a neon sign-I guess I was just too depressed at the thought of breaking up-like avoiding death-to acknowledge that Mark and I had been done with each other for a long time. Someone has to eventually get off the ride if its no longer fun, right? Well, this time around it was Mark who decided to get off first, but we were both over the merry-go-round routine long ago. looooong ago.

Ultimately, for me it came down to the fact that I hadn't had any sexual contact with my partner for over 7 months. For some people sex is a refuge and for others when times are bad they shut it off. Well, for me at least its a refuge-but for Mark it shut him down. When people are cold and bitter its hard to get aroused by them. Add in some highly strung, very sensitized people and you have a very unstable situation. and that include me by the way. I am sure that I have done my fair share of "doing" and "not doing" good work on the relationship. Ours just turned out to be not built to last. and of course this is my take on things-he needs to add his version to the blog in the comment.

Its time to go find my smile and the laughter again. And I hope, because I still care a lot about him, that he finds his again too. Yeah, I may be angry and hurt right now, but I won't hate. And maybe we might even become friends again. I guess I learned a lot, about myself and from Mark. I hope he understands that and knows I appreciated everything that he has done for me, even if that feeling got lost in the midst of the chaos.

Its never goodbye forever if you let it be...

from a vase of flowers left
from the christmas table
now dead and dying
like our love
from some long ago April

I watered them for so long
with my tears and blood
anemic and depressed
couldn't sing
my song anymore
in silence.

FUCK YOU DEPRESSION!!

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!!

Dennis Leigh is a rather awesome rennisance man

I strike a match
in the darkness...

so in the space where I used to dream
there could be seen a former scene
We use to mix, our bodies wrapped
in the halo of the morning
of the evening of
before.

Back in the days before the rain came
the house had windows, doors and
floors I remembered the sleep
before you went away
and the clouds came
along.

We shared all the pleasures of fiery
electricity, current buzzed and hummed
along lines of hot and red
your hands once burned
forgot your spurned
advances.

The rhythm of the moving city flashes
faces and labels on the metro
ride by too fast to read
I can't explain the need
for chemical nightlife
science.

And now that I know too much
I can't undo you
And now that I know too much
I can't believe...

what a year....

Its been quite a year for me...some good...some not so good moments...

I started taking antidepressants this year....first came Celexa which was horrible and produced immediate side effects not even my psychiatrist could figure out. Next came wellbutrin which I thought would help but has been rather ineffective in even keeping my depression down. In fact, looking back over the 9 months I've been taking it I can safely say its not done much other than make me think there should have been something happening when in fact, there wasn't. Actually, I think I need to get the hell off of it. I was better off when I was smoking pot all the time. Sure, it was expensive but at LEAST IT FUCKING WORKED!!

Nothing is worst than finally giving in to everyone's suggestion only to find out all your fears were well founded and legitimate. Its worse when its YOU that pegged all your hopes and dreams of something working on something that takes you months to find out doesn't. I've never been more pissed off in my life.

I'm about ready to throw the towel in on this relationship to boot.

Said goodbye to the 1980s

*Static*

oh, these last couple of weeks...

I swear....they have driven me to drink...literally. yeah yeah yeah yeah...

Are the periods annoying you yet?

Seriously, I'm a bit whooped right now. I know your supposed say how you are sailing through the seas of cheese and all that but my ass just feels broke down. I've seen cars being towed away that were in better shape than I am. Too many fucking problems. Not enough fucking. My head is caned. My soul is adrift and I am not sure where I am going to land right now.

I guess you stick around...for something...or waiting for something to change.

Will it? Won't it> now there is some fucked up grammar!

Not sure if the life I Have now is the one or kind that I want. Perhaps I should move away-start over somewhere else. become a shadow. moving through the absence of light. I pass through all colors on my way to the one, to that color that paints the whole world while you watch. Look on and see them swirl.

My tree is getting old. Lots of rings there deep inside me. could I rip myself open? with a knife? let my sap run out to collect in some drain while my leaves dried and were thrown to the winds. like those diner-stop resturant placemat mazes, not every path you choose leads to way out or the grand prize. Sometimes you get stuck at a dead end-or the path you chose gets close but just out of reach? and it all crumbles back into the sea like sand at high tide. (monitor turns off)

Steven is Gone

someday I'll park my playhouse by the sea
a place for all the men to go
and become one with me.
A hallowed place
where spirits rest
their heads and hands
upon my breast.

Another place...

Its a boat out
to Anchorage,
a ripped up pair
of shoes
an opera in D
dreams made of blood
and blues
and your hand
holding
my hand

Its all about the work

"After all, Debussy was considered impossibly avant-garde in his time. It's hard to credit such a response to his music today. Similarly, Brahms piano concerto #1 was reviewed in its day as 'noise'. We need to grow into modern works. We shouldn't ask that things be made too easy for us."

David Sylvian, on modern artistic development.

God I love this....so right-fucking-on its hard to imagine. Yeah, you develop the work, but the relationship to the work, or the relationship it has for others is what it becomes. That happens outside the initial burst of creative spark that gives reason to the intangible ideas we pull out of the ether. But after that, what? To me that space is when something moves from being the "work" to "art". when someone else grasps its experience. when it resonates outside the body of its creator.

And that is the power of art(which is a big bucket of others things, not just 'painting'). Pretty potent stuff if you have the talent to capture the lightning in a bottle. Alchemy and Ecstacy anyone?