Goodbye to all that

Once, I said I was moving. I’m always moving. Now, I’m done. Moving on. For good.

I was rumored a trucker. That is my near future. The open road never shined with such promise. You can only drive through Nebraska naked, though. I will be in New York several times sooner than you think. It’s fairly obvious that won’t matter.

Why do we call things classified and then put them in the newspaper?

Some things just aren’t meant to be difficult and cryptic. My whole life is staring me in the face, and it isn’t just flashes. They are hard looks, some as disturbing as dreams. She is back from China, and if I’m lucky, no one will see me. I will slip in and out, getting a falafel wrap in the meantime. Cuties used to hand me the bags, and I’d sit on the lawn. I was their boss elsewhere, and they said flattering things and looked on with hope and respect, vacant significant others never far away. I left and they didn’t know how to find me for letters. They deserve recommendation, but I had to save myself. I never wanted the chips, but sometimes I got a good cookie. It has been forever. I don’t remember anything.

I look in the mirror a lot. Are you surprised when you do? I’ve had to talk about quitting, but there isn’t a patch for eyes.

I bought more ways to display my ideas. They were cheap, and I feel inspired. I also feel alone. The road will do that. So will everyone.

I was going to out myself as an old Russian man. You beat me to it. I made unappreciated sacrifices, and I’m trying to forget why.

Most of all, I should not have promised to work on bringing sexy back. Sexy is the least of our problems. Before we focus on the reinstatement of personal definitions of all things erotic, lovely, charming, or sane, I’d recommend considering other elements lacking. Despite my exuberant oversight, mistakes do not define my life or work. There are rainbows on rooftops worth seeing instead.

I wrote home once. I won’t anymore. I don’t wait there. I have to keep going. I am afraid of falling one direction and things that run so loudly I can hear them. It could sound one way, but I usually mean it another. I couldn’t make it up if I tried, and I couldn’t live any other way than as myself. The seven is here, and I hope we all believe in more than words as resolutions.

You’re a woman, I’m a machine

But I wasn’t dead above 1979. No fucking way. I have to love and some stuff.

Really could not be more angry. It is good. Propeller. Watch out for the slow moving sea creatures though. Never did any good to hurt the kind mammals.

No dreaming anymore. Log. Don’t hurt the forest. Trees fall there, and it is not about you. You’re going to have to unbunch your panties and get over yourself, please. I’m trying to live, here.

I have letters to write. You can have one, and you cannot. How are you doing? I’m fine; thanks for asking. Oh wait.

Blah blah, then I realized we were part of an elite socially-conscious gathering, and then I went home to where I live. You didn’t carpool? At least I recycle. I don’t carry forks in suitcases, though. Everyone has standards and limits. His is currently $100 on a pre-paid Visa debit card.

These men on that card stare, sort of, at me. The middle one looks right on, while the others look at him, like a signal. They all have glasses. Someone made them. All collars. You will need that. There are also cards from her. I think she works at the New Yorker now. Should I explain all of that? She made Michael Stipe for the fridge. That cartoonist signed some stuff. Thanks for sending it along. You think about me when I don’t know it.

I always promise I’ll go see their bands, and I do not. Who am I fooling?

You skipped a day.
I skipped a week, and you just didn’t know it.
They already dropped.
I will too, soon. I shouldn’t even warn you.

They ran into each other a Tupperware party and only realized they’d been married to the same man because of their unique, shared last name.

Erin was like, “Don’t fuck with my water!”

To what or whom are the babies dedicated?
It really made me think.
Gee, that’s fucking special. Any other words of wisdom?
Well, you are just thought about and stuff.
You have such a way of expressing yourself. Congratu-fucking-lations on being alive.
No, congratulations to you. A star is born.
Right. Right.

He doesn’t mute the phone when he pees and we are on the phone because that is real.
“Like me with long hair! That’s what I want God to bring me for Christmas!”

The 80s created financial ruin. And me.
I couldn’t even make a wish, so I just blew.

Dem baskets on the desk

Will be soon enough. Not yet full.

I wish everything was in reverse.

My towel smells like bacon.

There is nothing like a holiday. There is nothing like you. There is nothing like every day. I miss that homely bee girl. She just wanted some rain, and her life was boring/lonely until she found those gates. I sit by windows. I still like to jump on beds. What if you saw your ex at a funeral and didn’t recognize him/her? What if you’d been married? Does that even matter? I wouldn’t sign a copy for you, even if you waited in line.

You should just try to meet a child who hasn’t been adopted by Mia Farrow.

Saving up

So much I just won’t get to. I will harvest before I’m done. Then I will go and do my work. Didn’t mean for any of this, but we play the hand. Nothing like a jack with one eye. We are not each other and not the same. She can’t hear me on the phone any better than you, but we are at least connected. “HOW IS YOUR LIFE?” “FINE!” Do you have a room with a view? You don’t get another take because taking is no longer an option. Watch out for low-flying birds.

Religion is one big metaphor

Gabriel, that angel, really dropped a fucking bombshell on Mary.

Smoke in the chimney means a log on the fire, and a log on the fire means loves.

I hear Norwegians light candles for Christmas and if they burn out, you will have bad luck.

I also heard about malicious inflatable snowman stabbings.

The First Noel makes me think about an ancient hotel sign with a dead final consonant.

There is this huge dove earth thing. Doves mean peace.

You’ve only been up for nine hours?!
This is every day of my life.
That’s unacceptable. You’ll be up with Santa!

I am awake, and he did not arrive.

Square dog face, sometimes blind

They find each other in the laundry room. “Hi honey.” “Hi honey.” Freaking old married love. I would love for that.

Lemme know if you need a walking stick.

You are sick because you suck at caring.

And we can walk in the night and not be afraid. I paced the driveway barefoot and spoke in hushed harashness. I didn’t see any bugs and a few stars.

Here it comes.

Interview, self, one

What do you need, trust or love?
I can love a lot of people, but if I can’t trust you, we really can’t get anywhere beyond the unrequited stage. You will have to understand who I am and commit to that reality.

Do you think everyone brings something back from the fence? {origin}
No, some people would just sit on the fence and not think about anything. That’s their purpose for sitting there.

Do they have the same name?
Almost. (They are from different countries.)

How do you feel when you see the men with slicked, spiky hair and gold chains?
I wonder why he needed to readjust himself by the baked goods in Wal-Mart. I felt like I was going to vomit. I looked at the pears to escape.

What are your artistic interests?
Today? These:
Art as space.
Hoaxavism – performing truth through hoax.
Anti-advertising and billboard liberation.
Replanting stolen trees, especially pines, especially those uprooted for holiday decor.
Screaming back at children in public. Making film about it using only surveillance footage from department store(s).
Jamming radio signal(s).
Culture as unidirectional stream.
Bogus instant messaging. (Not “hey”, “hi”, which is your Basic Instant Messaging Session.)
Art as public service.
Gillian Anderson screensavers.
Plop art.
Collecting rare media, pamphlets.
Anonymity to speak back to institutions.

Can you tell us a little more about why you are here?
I don’t know where else to go. Can you tell me why you do anything?

Plant matter

We stayed up late talking about hiking. My plan: Grand Canyon. He’s already done parts of Appalachia. Watch out for bears and guys who wear kilts because he sat down and found out what they wear under those. Then the mosquitoes came out and he put on some pants.

Want some rum cake?
Naw, I’m fine. One time I went miniature golfing up on the side of a cliff and you had to take a tram. When there is lightning, they close it and you have to quit your game and get below immediately.

I wonder when I will run out of stories and memories and reality.

The new communism

“People would write sex and anti-gay stuff.”
“Are we white yet?”
“I steal music. (and I’m not going away.)”
“I’m hideously deformed”
“Catch me Jesus”
“I lost my other hump to cancer”
“Have you seen my nipples?”
“Please let me die in peace”
“I love you Jessica Meier” (w/ teeth)
“I was a quality of life violation”

Late at night

A man had been singing a Macy Gray cover on the radio. “Goodbye and I choke; try to walk away and I stumble; though I try to hide it, it’s clear; my world crumbles when you are not near.” I found out his name is Ben Taylor. Somewhere in between losing the first draft of this memoir and trying to decide whether or not to start again, we all died a thousand deaths. I only lost some words. I always have more. Why would it shake me so? Why do strangers make the structures shaky? Probably because they aren’t, and they were. But you have to build back, in that order.

Thank your beliefs for the ones who write past midnight, “screw them, I love you”. I love you too. Thank you for knowing. I thought I’d had my game face wrapped around the north end of town. But overcompensating elsewhere must give me away. You are the best for knowing, and I hope you’ll be there when it is anything, ever. I am here forever.

Doesn’t she look like Kate Moss? If I only paid closer attention to such things. When was the last time the mobster got a hug next to the garbage from a moving woman? Two days, she will be in New York suburbs. We miss that she fell in love with his teeth the first time she saw him, and I can’t believe he has a wife and a baby named Beatrix. He knows he’s attractive. How did so many people do this in one week? The irony of lost cellulars isn’t – yes – lost, but at least it was under the trash.

My heart expands and collapses, and I can live this way. I will not drive anyone to the dump. We used to go and salvage bricks, throw them into the truck bed, and then you died youngish and no one suspected. As usual, I knew and nothing surprises me. I broke the robin’s egg and petted the baby opossum, and its mother never showed up to attack me. They may have lived in the back shed, which was really a large building full of possibly discarded furniture and tools. It was not the red place with couches, where you said, “THIS IS GREAT!”, arms in the air in celebration of refrigerator thrift. I was five and never so perplexed. I sucked on dandelions for the myth of milk, and you took the workers milkshakes because you try to love and give, even when you don’t know how to call and be. Medical bills or birthday gifts. Thank you for the increasing lack of choices, and I sure was glad we had that ladder. Until I learned that I was their people, I was so afraid and I would climb so high. Now I regret that they were lonely and just needed me before they were gone. There are always more, but they are never the same. But I was four and sleeping alone wasn’t even fun then. We all just learn to accept it, though. Eating a banana from your dad won’t help when you say you’re starving any more than I can write your exam about constitution. He will keep digging, and we will too. But he has a shovel. I have old joy.

And that was when I put my fork down for the second time

I’ve never heard of George Carlin.
That’s why you work for the bank!

How much is 12 and 7?
22.
What?
Wait, I was thinking of 17 and 5.

A guy invited me over to play with his wii. I could not do that.

You gotta wake up. There’s this kid in the living room.

In the mall

There was a man air-brushing a shirt with a cursive word and pink starburst behind it.

The word was “LIAR”.

This really happened.  Just now.

Do you leetspeak?

Where’s the wreath?
Maybe they didn’t keep their doors and someone took it.

Do you want a Will Turner locker poster from my pizza box?
Fuck yes I do! Bring it here!
…Stouffer’s French Bread Pizza, 2 pepperoni…

According to myth – also known as the woman who cuts my hair, Darlene – you have nightmares every night that your dog is going to be eaten by crocodiles.
Who fucked her up?
She came like that.
If anything, my walkabout has done more to make me pay attention to that lack of substance.

Why you gotta show up with the pus-footed baby?
He isn’t even hot anymore.
Where’d you get the kid?
From home.

He can’t spell “weird”.
He thought he was a presidential advisor.
I’m not sure what list I’m on or what exactly I did, but I get messages from girls all around the world on ICQ.
I was just laying in bed laughing, so I figured I should get up again.

I’m desperate.
Oh, right.
Do you believe love is irrational?
Yes?
Well, there’s your answer.

This large man with a Coolatta kept looking at everyone like he wanted to lick them.

Do you have a weird nervous system disease?
Hang on, sorry, roommate needs info about the history of the animal rights movement.
That’s a corporate term. I don’t think anyone knows what it means.
“This is glass dust; don’t breathe it.”
It’s almost like sex for geeks.

Hippos eat whole bunches of bananas at once!
I bet they can eat a lot of things at once.
I know, but bananas!

She sings dirty songs with four other women her age.
Your mother??
They have a piano man and they dress up and go sing dirty songs. I think last year they just made enough money to take a weekend trip to Montreal together – often they are paid in red wine.

I stockpile “important” things.
Like felt-tipped pens or what?
I have some great autumn electronica.
I can offer some great African acid jazz in return.
Sounds…. mysterious.
I’ll pretend to understand.

So you love Orlando Bloom?
What? Huh?
On the poster.
{long pause}
Um, I thought this guy’s name was Will Turner.
You haven’t seen the movie?!
Just because piracy is a legitimate lifestyle doesn’t mean I’ve seen that fucking movie, no!

We went out to breakfast. We were like a family.
You are a family.

I know this much is true

At the park, she sat at the picnic bench, the old wooden kind that sometimes have stray nails and always have discarded gum, and she told me what she knew. I tapped my foot.

“I had secrets. The same kind. I couldn’t talk to anyone. Not even in code. In the end, I got all new friends because I couldn’t tell them. They knew us both. I was alone. I got a whole new existence because the secret destroyed me. It always destroys at least one life, and I imagine it is this one. It ruined mine. But I was young, and so here I am now. I sat and recovered for years, but I will not say it was easy or short or quick. The guilt piles up, you have no close confidant, you have no mirror for your relationship, no feedback, and in that lack, you lose it all. Start from scratch. It will only happen once because you will learn. It happened to both of us, before we found each other. He still sees the darkness, but I’m beyond the shadow. There is nothing like it. Nothing destoys more than that kind of secret. I have seen it, lived it, and I know.”

I hugged her red coat and white scarf and blonde hair and shivered in Sherpa warmth. I wasn’t going to have to be alone, but I knew I was alone for that very reason. She verbalized my suspicions. Battles fought elsewhere will take longer to win than I can tolerate. I make decisions to wish for the best and believe. I have belief and hope. You are starting from ground fucking zero. Too bad you don’t know that makes you just one more. Secrets kill like mushroom clouds.

I hated that book, but he’s a good writer otherwise. Nothing like experience reappropriation. Is that all he does, and he makes enough to live? I laid on the floor and read it as I plodded through Tuesdays with Morrie. That poor dead bastard. The carpet was green and blue, maybe a shag, and it will probably get recycled as they clear out the benches built by hand, with love. I miss the red bricks that lifted for the crawlspace, those pebbles. How did he ever get down there? Did other kids climb under the house? Would I ever do that now? The follow-up is always the let-down. I climbed higher than anyone I knew. The maple leaves were maple-colored. There was no swing, but there was rope and locust skins. I loved the shed and the cold vegetables. I cooked with mud and flowers, much like now. I bet he never had a twin. He wasn’t a woman either, but we all desire the best because we know no other way in the light of the moon.

Please don’t fuck the waterfowl

Fetishization of poor people food
Old empty fast food joint as bus stop
Get on the bus to the march
Eat too much Havarti dill
“You would be good for each other”
Yell at Jesus-sign holders
Miss him
Bag tags
Pick me up in my own car
Not the first time
Afraid people are staring
Want to be together
Go to the grocery
Eat the food together
Fetishize each other