Happy old year

The mosey continues 

And I just want to end it right

This night not like last night

Nope

I'm outside and I can see the stars

Final count down

I bite my lip, someone steps on my toes, I may dance. This, these final moments, find me longing for long white lines and their abyss.

Not in an addict way, rather in the one earned my stripes and this is my fucking holiday. 

Looking grim as the sound circles around me, waves of emotion percolate just there. I feel nothing. I remember back to 1999, that New Year's Eve, when I had just found out I was two months pregnant and solitary amongst the press of strangers. 

It is time to dance. 

Ten Buckets

The hands that lighted the flame when I was in the dark, thank you. 

The hands that lifted me after I had fallen, thank you. 

The hands that held me while I cried, thank you. 

The hands that opened, thank you. 

The hands that closed tightly, I thank you. 

The hands that surprise me, thank you.

The hands that make, that do, that feed my soul thank you.

It's the time of year when people look back and forward. It's Janus. I have done so much backward forward that I've ended here, right where I belong. I am not surprisingly under blankets drinking coffee. I am alone for the first time in dad and the silence is nourishing.

There must come a place in healing when we really want the same thing we wanted during the entirety of our dysfunction: to explain fully and clearly how we were impacted, why it was traumatic, what we are doing to grow into the shadow. I use we here because I am not alone. I am not alone on the receiving end of abuse. I also know that I believe in the ultimate power of forgiveness and it is hard to forgive someone who is intangible, a ghost, a fragment of memories.

I also know there is accountability. How important it is. I know that. I understand why he thought he had the right to treat me and all of my belongings as things to be used, tossed out, worn thin. I understand why he thought he had to control me, my days, my time, and my mind. I understand how he doesn't understand that is not love or acceptance. I understand pain. 

There is also the undeniable reaction to trauma when a sensitive and intelligent human reaches their threshold. I am not angry. I am blessed. I am blessed to know that I am a sum of many parts, that I am strength incarnate, that my heart is tool, not a weapon. 

I love and am timid of the fierce nature of my passion. I embrace the flame that cleanses.

My heart always belongs,

CSL <3ingly

Light returns, Life Blows On

The The winter holiday pulls into its final days. I am long against shadows, full of sleep and caffeine. It's almost time for me to roll out of bed and into some jeans, a sweater, boots. It's blue and freezing outside.

I am wondering about eyebrows and lipstick, debating buying a table saw, considering the benefits of an air compressor. Recently I have found a single pair of arms unequal to none. I feel safe and not spun out.

There is this part of me that doesn't know if I should avoid going into the past, if I should avoid going into the future. I stay really close to today, while grasping the implications of both. 

Trigger alerts are useless. Life is full of surprise and unexpected events. Each day is full, is empty, is a dull series of forgettable events, is a mouth whispering shivers across my spine.

****

The thing about the ex is that I understand more now how all of that went down. I get how making choices for myself just became overwhelming, how I was spinning out and for a moment his hand was a stable point. I remember his words about what a real woman is, how women cannot be trusted, how violence was his perpetual shadow; and I know: I learned from him; he was a teacher for me.  I may not have wanted the lessons but now I know. 

When we are changed in ways that we never asked to be changed it takes time to accept the new pieces of our selves. 

To all of the beautiful shadows,

CSL <3ingly

 

I am under ten blankets

The kettle is on, it will whistle soon

I will make tea and pile more blankets on top

It may snow today, but it is unlikely

Instead of staying under cover all day, I will see my mother and go to the movies. 

I am waiting only for the water to heat

 

Seasonal Affective Dissorder

Doesn't really seem to hit me. I just sleep late and don't feel super productive during the daylight hours. I am also on one of those late night benders where I like to stay awake until I collapse into blankets and sheets and wrap myself in layers of down.

I have keys to the studio but this week has been a nightmare of working late and family stuff and physical exhaustion. I can't wait to go back to school because I know that I will be more or less left alone to earn As and study. I haven't bought my books yet which is stressful for me as I want to have everything ready for the first day of class.

My body feels like its been slammed with rocks. I think it has, emotional rocks at least. Rocks of expectations and disappointments, boulders of guilt and shame. The thing is that the more I say NO, GO FUCK YOURSELF, the easier it gets to not be affected by the expectations or disappointments of others. I am learning.

I am going to a spa, soon, to have this term massaged out of my flesh. I am going to a sauna to sweat this year into steam. I am going to a shaman to dance the shadow dance.

Light reflects across every surface invisibly refracting and gathering momentum,
CSL <3ingly p="">

Thin Lines and Hard Voices

It's late after Christmas, finally. This year, this year, begins its final days. I have this breath that I've been holding that begins to loose its hold and the blood in my veins thaws.

In all of this upheaval I have come to know a few things. Light casts shadows and dancing is like screaming into the wind. I begin to feel parts of me that want no light, parts that long I remain in shadow. These parts feed the animal in me.

Inhale the crisp air the smell of snow the cold, and I smell the stars. 

Courage Little Bird

I shake open and back toward my body. I believe in the power of love. 

This or Something Better

I am slammed against my veins. The cold rush of adrenaline closes my throat, my body is in a state of shock. 

I got out of the shower and put on my favorite album. Then I lost my shit. Tears and water mingle over my naked body. I am exposed. I am naked. Sickness wells up in my throat. My mouth opens and loud noises come out. I am very very alone.

I am not really up for talking and yet I really really do not want to be alone. I look at sharp objects. I long for release. There is a guarantee in physical pain.

I leave my house as quickly as I can. It's raining and gray. I am crying and wearing gray: we match. I go to a salon and have my toenails painted metallic superman blue black cherries at the bottoms of my legs.

I wanted to pay someone to touch me. It's safe, secure, simple. It's also not alone. And alone is violent.

Shadow dance,

CSL <3ingly

I ate soup

Washed two Advil down this morning with coffee, I am a little hungover. I drank three or seven beers last night, early this morning, after work and smoked weed at 05:30. More I am so mad that I didn't confront my situation head on last night. I dropped. If there would have been a sound it would have been that of a ballon, a red ballon in the sun.

That is a sound. In my world, visual pictures can do that. My brain works. I am lucky to be able to feel pictures in my blood.

On my mind so much: we don't think in sentences; we think pictures which are then translated to words when we speak. Language, by definition, is a construct of acceptable inaccuracies.

The tenacity to be bold is born from bravery. This is the marrow within the bone.

Light casts shadows,

CSL <3ingly

There are no words for what I know       CSL <3ingly

It's sexy like a window at dawn

Three wings to the left                   CSL <3ingly td="">

I don't know and I really stopped caring about all the talk about the town
My reputation, you know, it precedes me
A fate that I have left alone
Oh longing like a birdsong
Feeling like nail on a chalkboard, oh these days
Let the clamor roll
Oh my feet, oh, now, oh my feet
Take the dark and narrow
Against a neverending tomorrow

***

One, nine,
Oh if I could only tell you all that has transpired across these last few moments. I am without a doubt at a loss. The one, the One showed up at my gig tonight. I know you know who I am talking about; I know you know I am writing for you, always. I pull my eyes out of my query to the four tall cisdudes standing over the leathered granite bar and see, in profile: him. Yes, that, it happened. And, everything that I'd imagined that I'd do went the fuck out the window and I fucking turned cold in my blood. Like the ice in my well. I was fucking at work. Behind the fucking bar. And I saw him.

****

In other news I pick up the keys for the studio on monday. I was able to procure a two year commercial lease on a split property: Lady Boss that's me.

* **** Most likely, my heart is beyond breaking and overflowingly  yours, #
CSL <3ingly p="">

Time Zones and Flight Delays

GI've been a lot of things over the years. I was almost a wife, I was a reminessicent imp, a particle reflection of the lost piece of childhood. Sometimes I've been busy being things for other people. Now, I am really busy being a fucking ruthless bitch.

What I mean by that is Lady Boss. I mean I have my allies and not enough enemies to worry about. Almost as if a hose with a kink has suddenly opened and all of that pressure is free.

Don't act surprised. I am a simple creature with a complex set of drives. It is not enough to tuck me into bed after fucking me. I may not even like or want to fuck, I just do, because it is easier than arguing no, it's easier than saying, I think we're not comparable , it's easy enough to get fucked. 

What's not easy is finding safe passage across the mine laddened terrain of my heart.

Some people are born with a compass and carry a lamp to light the darkness. 

People whom I love who have seen the shit and blood flow from my veins have been expecting this transition. 

I am flying over the Western United States. There is turbulence. I am not afraid.

The Ex has been on my mind. I am wondering if I should save our Christmas story for another post.

****

Violence circled him. He would come home from a bar and tell me about it hat had happened, how out of nowhere this person just went all haywire and how it was only self defense.

It was a small town and word got around that he was a wild one. A loose canon. He was my boyfriend.

Two nights before Christmas we'd gone out for some drinks and in his typical style he had intervened in some brawl. This time no one got hurt.

I drove us home. When we got there he to me he had just slammed a line of speed in the bathroom with Marco. I thought it was blow, he said as if that justified the action. 

We had talked about how drugs made him horny. Somehow this led to him eating a handful of Viagra. 

I don't need to go in to detail about the rest of the night. 

Walking was uncomfortable at work the next day. I stopped at Ralph's and bought some oranges and soup.

Christmas came. Christmas went.

I recovered my sense of balance and my body stopped hurting before the new year.

Unforgettable

I'm all legs long from walking and my friend is snoring next to me. I mean breathing rhythmically. On my mind: what, when everything melts away at the bottom of an empty half pint of Haagandaz, Grail? Wandering streets awestruck- mesmerized and entranced. 

exhausted in all of the right ways. The ways of unwavering yes are a new exploration. 

Walls need structure

Terminal C

Laguardia is a quiet hum of machines and voices. I am wrapped in the love of friends old and new. Having taken almost a week to decompress I felt human this morning.

I have this friend who is like an annoying brother. He farts, we talk about poop, and eat pints of ice cream. Having been friends for more than a decade we can fall into silent companionship our minds comforted by proximity of acceptance.

I am going home to a new lover and a new business. My flexibility around physical intimacy is a swath a gray, the eleventh color.

New York has been transcendent. I met a few artists and have been inspired to push even harder against the status quo's expectations.

Years ago I was at church and told he pastor: I think it's better to have low expectations, that way I have more room for joy. 

In this vein when I feel unmet expectations placed upon me, I start to rage. I am dedicated unwaveringly to the discipline of yes.

The conundrum is maintaining momentum and that I don't feel like apologizing for having add. People are entropic or spastic, myself included. 

Squire not Manspeak

Yes, my lovely talented and well written friend and accomplice, there is no excuse for wallowing. The truth is that I let things slide out of my hands.

I also recognize that this engagement was a very necessary and final step in my progression in my personal development.

This last I have seen myself grow and shift into and out of other's expectations of what I am and into this, who I am.

It is the simple trajectory precipitated by reflection within reflection.

For the last time I let myself

***

I've been making As. I did, however, get an A- which is my fault and still sucks. More, I have also managed to keep a job. apartment, take 16 credit hours, maintain a semblance of a diet, and self-moderate: I have taken the bull by the horns.

I am no one's fool and know that the hands that have fingers beyond number have been there once more than again

There is a moment in this woman's life that the stopped all the other moments
and now, again, once more

the flecks of nail polish that I leave like resin as I peal back nervously
are not calling cards

I cross my toes
and count my bros

the ones who stand
listen as I speak

hear more than the words
felt between us

***

I am an entrepreneur
here I find that I would like to add, emotional yet fear that may be interpreted incorrectly. I find that my mother tongue is failing me. I see around all the casted metropolis and it is vast.

Laundry List

One more final and this term will be behind me. I am pushed to the breaking point. Psychically more than anything else. My limits become very clear when I reach this point. My empathy also diminishes. I am not sorry that I don't like the guy with the big truck and a kid. I don't care if he likes me. He makes me feel like I can't breath. So I just drop off the face of the earth. I know I should say something like you're super but have you considered cilantro.

I am in the laundromat studying for my psych final. Blue Thursday. I need to drink water, I am so thirsty I can hardly tell you. Tomorrow I go to New York to see a friend that shall remain unnamed. Let's just say they're of extreme interest physically, mentally, physically. It should be fascinating and delightful.

I am nervous. 

Over and Out

Right now, drinking coffee eating cupcakes in New York, I am having a huge amount of stress about home, people, commitments.

I am digging myself in and out of holes. As a student I have learned a few things: ask for what you want, expect yes in reply. I am about to become a business owner more updates to follow.

So now for juice. Recently spent a few dates with this guy who has an eight year old. He's okay, the guy. But he started with this: come over to my house, let me make you dinner, stay the night. These were more or less demands stated via text. These were not requests. There was also the occasional: I like you; when can I see you?

Anyhow. I pulled back, got silent, removed myself politely. More texts with more demands. I finally said: I'm busy have zero time, don't want to make any comittments that push me into lies. 

He texted back: I just want to have fun; Don't worry about the commitments; Maybe we can go out when you're home.

At which point I wanted to say: go fuck yourself. I tried polite and now all I have is how about ask. How about consider asking me what I want, if there is anything more or less that I am feeling. Inquire into my state of mind. Instead, I'm just looking for fun.

For the record: you're not fun nor are you entertaining. I want the goddamn moon and stars not fun

Tilt-a-Whirlo

A brackish haze rests like a film across the sharper pieces of the year, I have wrapped myself in a cocoon. I have been in the studios for nights in a row, working through the divide and refining my dedication. For years I have held the belief that a talented artist is a lazy artist, that they will not sink their teeth into the bone when time gets short; and, conversely, that a moderate artist with a bucket of perseverance will surpass the innate talent on every level as their developing technique lends itself  to personal style.

My body is sore and my joints are swollen. I think it's from working in the studio but there is a lingering possibility that I may still be reacting to the measles vaccine. If so, well,  would be wise to go to a doctor.

I had a few casual drinks with a dude, lets call him Frank. Frank seemed a little cowboy and in a town that is full of people who are so passively liberal my teeth hurt, it was refreshing to be around someone who hunts and knows how to fix a car. We had some good laughs, he told me how he was working on controlling his confrontation issues, we laughed a little more. Moving forward we went and drank coffee while my mom was in the hospital. His attention on me was complete, he seemed interested in what I had to say, and our ideas about personal responsibility lined up. We both agreed that the future is a little stark. He said he wears his scars like badges of honor and remembrance, that he would however never get a tattoo because his body is a temple.

Later over football and beer, I mention Ferguson and how it is a huge fucking problem. He says the kid was a thief and confronted the cop.

That really sat with me. How he started the conversation with I am not a racist but this is Oregon and there were sundown laws until 1963.

As if institutionalized racism makes it more palatable or acceptable. As if saying you had bro's on your sports team makes you less of an arrogant fuck.

I said that I had stopped dating white dudes about four years ago.

Who have you been dating then? he asked, confused.

****

 I dropped him off and spent the next few days thinking it over and then I realized that he is not for me. There is absolutely nothing in me that needs a moderate closeted homophobic racist white dude with confrontation issues and no particular passion in my life. I don't owe him a phone call to explain that; I don't owe him a friendly card. Nothing.

I chose to have lovely beautiful talented and inspired humans around me, so thank you all for being lovely and kind and full of hope.