two fingers on the pulse

7 06 2007

if you’re feelin’ weary
you’ve been alone too long
maybe you’ve been suffering from
a few too many plans that have gone wrong
and you’re trying to remember
how fine your life used to be
you’re running around banging your drums like it’s 1973…
you say you’ve got troubles
you say you’ve got pain
you say you’ve nothing left to believe in,
you’ve nothing left to hold on to,
you got nothing to trust,
you got nothing but chains
you’ve been scouring your conscience, raking through your memories,
scouring your conscience, raking through your memories

but that was the river
this is the sea

today’s the first day of my stint as the crazy cat-lady; the three people in town i see the most, talk to the most, hear the most often talking, singing, smiling in my head, have set out south-and-westward bound on a wild adventure & left me here with a paper to write, too many borrowed books to read that will distract me thoroughly instead, both of holly’s cats, and a few of her plants to mind as well. so in between wrestling with the language, i’ll be tripping over three felines and watering the tomato plants that have come to cuddle up beside the aloe and the basil (all of whom have moved to the inconvenient front steps because it’s too much to ask three cats not to gnaw them into shreds.

and yesterday was the last day, at least ceremonially, of something i had valued and treasured greatly, a friendship that i know i never handled half as well as i would have had to have done to do it right, a blow i’ve known for months–or years–was coming, but knowing didn’t make it any easier not to cry. it’s different, though; usually what i weep about is the frustration of injustice, of not being heard or understood, of believing that if somebody would only hear me out that they wouldn’t leave and everything would be okay. this isn’t like that; this is simply loss, and sorrow. i can’t argue against the vast majority of the charges, & it’s vast enough that the remaining few aren’t relevant anyway. (nobody made you do it, no one put words in your mouth | and what you thought was freedom is just greed) this ending hurts, deeper than most, maybe deeper than all the rest of the past year’s losses, but it lacks that particular sting. this is a just conclusion. my friend could not be the person i know and love if this went any other way. “when you make poor choices, they have consequences.” “yes.”

“reap the whirlwind, brady. reap it.”
but you tear things down and build things up, and while it’s scary how the pace of all of that has sped up so damn much this year–can someone please stop this one going to eleven!?–i can’t keep up the wallowing, even when it’s warranted. there’s a piano in my house again, for the first time in years and years. we had a terrific little party here on tuesday, with wine and music and food and baby-bouncing and meandery conversations and visits from old friends and late-night charades by low light and candles, p. dragging his foot along the floor to show the moment he’s too stuck in to get out of. last night we drank way too much sugar and did things with nellthegreat‘s childhood toybox that should never, never, never be discussed, and the pictures, thank god, are technologically irretrievable from _aurelius‘s camera, but the sheer volume of giggling and sugar consumed makes up for it completely. there have been pirates and dinners and dark faerie tales back on the futon, and miles and miles of walking in the sunshine, and there are movie-plans tonight and games and dancing on tomorrow’s docket. here’s a sampling of what the voices sound like:

“never go on a road trip without neitzche” –paul
“i’m like the betty crocker of getting high”–rocky
“nobody’s an itty bug” –d
“do you read indie-tits?” “yes! exactly!” “because that damn bird is always–” “–hoping somebody gets skullfucked–you caught the reference!” –tyra & marc
“it’s…. unsettling” –donovan
“it just keeps getting more and more clear”–marc, about nell, re: playmobil
“sara! nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” –claire

so this deciding to stay another year business–yes, if you didn’t get the memo, and you’ve read this far, now you know–is already not what i imagined it might be, mostly because it’s been thoroughly excellent. i didn’t anticipate the costs–not didn’t anticipate there would be any, but didn’t know where to look and what to dodge, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. some hits you deserve to take. some lessons you have to have over and over and over again (like, for example, that when it comes to the girlzone (sleepovers, bean’s got some pot, you’re only popular with anorexia) the eighth grade is never over, in both its best and most absolutely awful ways) and some are brand new gems or new shaped scratches to watch familiar blood well up in (our skin may be scratched, but nothing holds us back). i have funding for next year, and if things come through like they should rent paid for the summer. i’ll have a house full of music and friendship. i’ll have woes and boons and dramas i can’t yet dream of. and i’ll miss some people, hard, both the ones who’ve scattered (who’s gonna rouse my lynch-mobs now?) or are scattering and the ones who’ll still be here, smiling in the same overlapping venn-diagrams of social-scenes as ever, but in ways only i can tell have a brittleness i’d hoped to never see. when you stay, you get to see things bloom that you’d have missed by leaving, but you also have to face the scars you made.

i think that was the last shoe dropping from that millipede, but i know better than to trust that hope, & anyway, whether they’re still falling or not, the fallen are scattered all around me like tea leaves i’ve only just begun to learn to read.

the farther i come, the farther i fall;
whatever i knew, it was nothing at all,
nothing at all, just making me small,
smaller and smaller…

so many cities and windows and lives
and through each one there’s a soul that strives to survive
so pay no mind, my sorrow’s fine
the day is alive and that’s why i cry
it’s a New Year, toast, grab your list to conspire
the last snake hissed as he was thrown in the fire
you’ve come far, and though you’re far from the end
you don’t mind where you are, cause you know where you’ve been

so i’m embodying a little trite alanis morissette (you live, you learn, you lose, you learn) and thanking my stars for the friend on the phone (but all i can do is hand it to you), the note on the screen (like a fish needs a bicycle), the sun through the trees right where it’s always been.

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8 responses

7 06 2007
pictsy

Someday I would really like to hear the whole story. Maybe years from now, but someday.

7 06 2007
tyra

we are certainly overdue a good, long coffee at the very least…maybe the chat all night kind. when i figure out the wheels thing, i’ll be heading south a time or two!

8 06 2007
pictsy

yes please

9 06 2007
deity_inc

Carrie Underwood…..
So it’s kinda funny I was thinking of your predicament from a little while back. Personally I like revenge. It’s nice. Simple. Somewhat clean and most definitely messy; but above all satisfying. Really smug, can’t stop smiling, oh so want to tell the world what you got away with. Lo and behold a song played on the radio and I was thinking of you.
Right now,
He’s probably slow dancing with a bleached-blonde tramp,
And she’s probably getting frisky…
Right now,
He’s probably buying her some fruity little drink cause she can’t shoot whiskey
Right now, he’s probably up behind her with a pool-stick,
Showing her how to shoot a combo…
And he don’t know…
That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive,
Carved my name into his leather seats…
I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights,
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires…
And maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.
Right now, she’s probably up singing some
White-trash version of Shania karaoke..
Right now, she’s probably saying “I’m drunk”
And he’s a thinking that he’s gonna get lucky,
Right now, he’s probably dabbing on 3 dollars worth of that bathroom polo
And he don’t know…
That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive,
Carved my name into his leather seats,
I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights,
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires…
And maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.
I might saved a little trouble for the next girl,
Cause the next time that he cheats…
Oh, you know it won’t be on me!
Ohh… not on me…
Cause I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive,
Carved my name into his leather seats…
I took a Louisville slugger to both head lights,
Slashed a hole in all 4 tires…
Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.
Ohh.. Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…
Ohh… before he cheats…
p.s I have this neat little metal bat you could borrow.

9 06 2007
tyra

Re: Carrie Underwood…..
now, robert. that is entirely un-called-for. and also blurring into the edges of the dangerous, since i do know where the car is parked…
nah, i’m not that kind of a girl even if it were through and through that kind of a story, and it really only is in little pieces here & there.
but you, either way, and thanks eversomuch for thinking of me (i shan’t ask why you were listening to carrie underwood), are a devil and a darling. je t’adore. ::smooch::

9 06 2007
ccangels

when you’re ready…

9 06 2007
tyra

thank you, dearling. and thank you for the very sweet phone message, which i have saved so i’m probably blocking my mailbox again and people will get cross with me. 🙂
i shall absolutely give you a call soon. tea at tazza next week perhaps?

10 06 2007
ccangels

splendid
Tea sounds terrific next week (do you mean this week as next week or next week as next week? haha). Either way, we’ll make it work.

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