hi there. long time no see. how have you been? it's good to have you back.

things are topsy-turvy in my life, but things are starting to make more sense to me now.

lots of hard work, lots of griping, lots of time spent in transit.

there is so much i could say, but i'll keep it brief. in honor of a brilliant new book, not quite what i was planning edited by larry smith and rachael fershleiser, here is my six-word memoir:

she awoke and he was gone.

know what's really unprofessional?

sweatstains, that's what.

i had a little encounter at work today with one of the other interns; he was interviewing me for the website and print newsletter for the milwaukee chapter of the red cross. ( by the way, i got the internship. hello.)

i decided to wear the very dress i wore at the public allies pinning ceremony, shown below, along with james, our charming british bloke... very mild mannered, poor fellow.

anyway, i wore this dress to work, completely forgetting the wicking power of america's favorite fabric, POLYESTER. bad choice. the dress, as you can see, is a light tan that when wet turns a mucky and uninviting brown. then, kind as can be seen, this fine garment displays your bodily mishaps for all the world to see via a lovely ring of salt clinging to the underarm area.

needless to say (but done in the name of humor), i walked around with my arms down until i got home.

in other news, i am once again a solo living individual, being that my mother has deprived me my child and tim is nothing more to me than a two-month-long bad memory. i am free to do as i please, i suppose, the only exception being that said activities do not disturb my aunt and uncle in their home directly beneath me.

it's funny the stark differences between our two households: they have all the latest gadgets and whatnot, while i have a typewriter and record player (functional sans fashion); they are eating calorific meals of every imaginable kind, i dine modestly on rice and (insert animal-friendly protein source here); my chosen mode of transporation is a red bicycle or that green monster of a car excalibur that will die at any given moment (leaking gas, no front light covers nor rear-view mirror); theirs is a caravan consisting of an enormous truck (complete with fold down television screens), a white work van (nothing fancy about that), and lastly my aunt's so-called mini-van, which is more like a suite on wheels.

i love them, yet we are so very different. bless thier hearts for letting me get in when they did. we have family time occasionally, which i often find myself looking forward to. since i can't take my baby for leisurly strolls through clean night air, and spence and cyndi don't live close enough to walk to, i find it difficult to see people who know me well. this is a city of well-acquainted strangers, people only know each other to an extent. i miss my family.

and a lot of other things too.

he's wonderful. really, quite so.

cicadas, revisited

Song of the Cicadas

I remember the first meeting of our eyes, that prolonged awkward gaze burning from time immemorial. The electric red of your orbital vision and shimmering gossamer wings. You were every where, and there was only me, but he was there also.

The buzzing was delicious, my body delicate with the sensual longing of home. But I was not home; indeed, far from the nostalgia of that familiar place. I was caught here in this manic utopia, here where there were only hips and thighs and thoraxes mingling longingly against each other. We thought we might have found that elusive unspeakable kind of love, when in reality, the only thing we’d discovered was how to thrash about senselessly in the meadows with the cicadas.

We felt their hollow bodies pressing, crumbling beneath us as we groped awkwardly and held onto each other. They groped awkwardly too, empty shells clinging to our bodies like massive felled trees. None of us stood a chance, senseless fucking as you stumbled away like six-legged drunkards attempting to save yourselves from the train wreck of our supple young bodies. We carried on carelessly, bulldozing through your existence and ending it in mere moments.
Greedily we took each other in, we took you in. All of us rolling together (against your will) making love in the thicket. Yours was the sacrifice, and so I shall always remember this as the summer of our seventeen year cicada.

scandalous vandals, inc.

i have decided to call my endeavors "scandalous vandal, inc."
it will consist of my art, managing, and photographing endeavors.
all that jazz.

other than that, sparks are flying.

fucking in the cicadas

The meeting of our bodies was inevitable, despite our parents’ best efforts. He stared at me from across the street, tapping the traffic lights nervously. I couldn’t look at him, or I knew I would be transfixed. We lived in the same neighborhood, and often were cordial in the way only suburbanites can be. Certainly, his had much more than our family, but we never got caught up in that. There were always those other moments when we engaged in quiet longing, fumbling in clumsy foreplay, but never being able to consummate the desire.

We rarely spoke, but it was apparent that we wanted what has always been forbidden in the height of our awkward youth. The obvious attraction made our parents want to take action, resulting in trips to The Blessed Virgin church. Every week, the pastor spoke on the sins of the flesh, smoking cigarettes and going on alcoholic binges between. Had they realized the threat of punishment was nowhere near strong enough to keep us wholesome, , I highly doubt they would have put so much faith in those emotionless sermons. After all, even Farther Andrew wasn’t infallible, but he didn’t seem afraid of that darkness. We are all imperfect, which is what inevitably draws us together in the end.

They crunched beneath our bodies, shells stick to our skins and crumbling beneath us, clearly only memories now. Thighs caressed amidst all sorts of skin, skins and skins, ours and theirs mingling. it seems we’d had no choice but to follow through with this sensationalized exhibitionist behavior. The filmy gossamer wings are everywhere, clinging to elbows and toes.

naked girls

i am interested in taking photographs of scantily-clad women (and perhaps men) in compromising positions.

the new frontier of my art has arrived.
i haven't done art in a long time, and now it's time.

happiness runs in a circular motion.

music as an adjective and movement

the word music is derived from them muses of ancient time, each of them is sort of the inspiration of a number of particular arts and divisions.

a two part proposal:

1.) a body of work dedicated to the muses, and

2.) the change of the word music from a noun (music: i.e. a compilation of sounds melded to create a singular piece of work or express an abstract idea) to an adjective (music: i.e. inspired by or in relation to the muses, and beauty).

an unfinished tune

all i could've been
turned to dust,
things come to nothing.
but should i learn by promising
to forget what's left?

(it's so empty,
it's so empty)

what was that notion,
undiscovered,
lost somewhere?
held onto
like love and friendship,
but somehow,
declined and gone...

(it's so empty,
it's so empty)

and goddamn,
if i could just forget
the heartache
of what's between us.

it's so empty,
it's so empty.

-mww and rmr

butterflies

my mind is racing at all times.

every time i think of the things that have happened, i get upset. i don't know what to make of all this, the duality of the situation. jealousy, rage, anger plastered in behind memories of love and happiness and this current situation.

i wonder how he feels each day that passes? are we not both the same in one sense, the woman and child? it pains my heart more than i can really say. i'm not made for all of this. honestly, if i'd have known this was the way it was going to be, an uphill battle and me raising this child alone and in the shadow of some other woman, i don't know that i would have done it.

that isn't to say that i don't love samadhi royal, it's the exact opposite. i feel blessed to wake up every morning with him in my arms, smiling at me. i just didn't want to have to go through the entirety of it alone. i was not ready to go this alone, not ready to bear a life of another when mine was in turmoil. from the moment i found out to each second spanning into the future, i have never felt so abandoned. and so soon. for the past year, i have held onto a foolish hope that is driving me further and further from happiness.

where is my coping mechanism? am i so weak now? i will take the baby down to search out his history. we will wallow in the mythology of his beauty, about the magic from which he was created. it's a shame that this his life is marred with the tragedy of our mistakes. i'm going to hide it from him, and give him laughter and a beautiful life.

god damn, am i ever proud of myself

i've been working on this essay for a thing i'm applying to, and i've been sort of stagnant mentally. it's been a challenge, but i daresay i've finished the damned thing and feel incredibly accomplished.

Q: Describe something you have done to improve your community. What did you learn about yourself, about your community or about change? How will that experience help you meet the goals of the Public Allies program and contribute (skills, experience, relationships, ideas, etc.) to the Public Allies experience?

A:
“We must be the change we wish to see in the world.” –Mahatma Gandhi

If we as a society want to see an improvement in our quality of life, it is essential for each individual to become accountable for the development and well-being of our communities. Without this accountability, sense of pride in ownership is lost, leaving us vulnerable to corrosive manipulation and internal corruption. Ownership in this sense isn’t about a title or deed, but being part of a bigger picture; it’s about harnessing the collective synergy and translating that into a brighter future. This is the most important lesson I learned as a member of Brewing Grounds for Change café.
Brewing Grounds for Change is a collectively-run cafe where each member is responsible for the upkeep and general operation of the city’s only 100% fair-trade coffee shop. The café is also a sort of cultural meeting place whose the collective vision is to constantly improve as a community space where the doors are open to support expression of all kinds, be they social, political, or artistic.
For me, Brewing Grounds became a sort of second home, as well as a jumping off point for the development of my own ideas on social advocacy. Before my experience there, I was a selfish person taking for granted much of what went on around me. I was wholly unaware of any community advocacy organizations and had very little knowledge of the sociopolitical climate of Milwaukee. Certainly, I had heard statistics about the racism, rumors about the police brutality, but it was so far removed from my daily life that it may as well have been happening on another planet.
As I became more involved at the café, I was slowly introduced to the blatant injustices the people of this city were facing. Many groups came to the café to meet, drinking coffee and calling for change: blacks and Latinos, families, students, unions, and more. Each group was given equal respect and came together under the banner of common good. There were phone calls to be made, letters to be written and even a community fast. I felt solidarity with Frank Jude, cheered for union workers and the immigrant marchers. When an injustice was committed, I was part of the grieving many; when a victory was won, regardless of magnitude, I felt relief. These struggles, though more concrete, more public, mirrored the internal ones for which I had not found any solution.
As I became more engrossed in these events, I unintentionally honed my skills as an organizer. Brewing Grounds was full of insightful and socially-conscious people at any given time; all I had to do was open my ears and listen. By participating in various social forums and meeting with veteran organizers, I was given the necessary tools to bring about change. Networking with other activists gave me the opportunity to develop relationships with like-minded individuals, as well as insight on different perspectives within the community. I believe social advocacy begins in the hearts of the people, raw and passionate. These thoughts need to be organized collectively, and this is the key to bringing about change.
Through Brewing Grounds, I discovered my potential as a leader. Much of that had to do with finding my limits and pushing beyond them. For instance, was I up to the challenge of group problem solving? Definitely. Could I work out a sound financial plan that was comprehensive and true to our ethics? Certainly. Is it possible to cook vegan brunch for a huge group of hungry people on a single hotplate? Yes, it is. By being placed in the thick of these situations, one is forced to improvise, and you either sink or swim. As it turns out, I’m excellent at staying afloat.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “The reason why the world lacks unity, and lies broken and in heaps, is because man is disunited with himself.” I believe that statement to be wholly true, and am grateful to have found that unity, not only in myself, but in the community. Brewing Grounds gave me the opportunity experience my community in a higher sense by networking with other advocates, by learning and leading. These, as well as determination and aspirations, are the things I bring to the table in hope of finding peace in a new day.


sigh. i feel all warm inside. it's good to be distracted.

happiness runs in a circular motion
love is like a little boat upon the sea
everybody is a part of everything anyways
you can be happy if you let yourself be
happiness runs, happiness runs
happiness runs, happiness runs.

really, i have had the best few days i can remember. i'd been so unhappy, but i'm learning to pull it together. my son is amazing, and no matter what struggle i have to go through to do it, he is going to be a great man.
i am beautiful and worthy and incredible. i am strong, i am delicate.


more importantly, i am learning to be happy again with me.

broken links

finding broken links to personal ads my mother began throughout various times in her lesbian career. (no, that's not mine baby, no. i love you, honest.) finding broken mental links to summertime, to old friends, wondering where we all lost each other, or if perhaps i was the only one shed... perhaps. it's more than likely.
there's a little creature in my stomache, putting pressure on all my organs, and the cause of so much fuss. poor kid, he has no idea what he's in for... how in the hell am i going to instill value living in such a place? a place full of self-worshippers? but, i suppose, i am not much better than that, am i? i have my vanities and indulgences just like anyone else.
i've actually been writing a lot more now, trying to push all the shit out of my mind so it doesn't cloud my senses when the baby actually gets here. i think we'll have a good time. me and the baby, that is. he seems pretty cool already.
i'm tired of people asking, "how are you feeling?" but then looking really dissapointed when i say just fine. they want me to be miserable so they can tell me it's ok, and it's almost over. (no shit it's almost over, i know that better than they do.)
can't wait to cease being public property; everybody wants to touch a pregnant girl, and are appalled when she doesn't want to be touched. why do they think it's ok to condemn me for my desire for personal space? there's plenty of adjustion to do without having also to open yourself for attacks by curious strangers. the most affective method so far is to isolate myself, and only go out when i know there will be a lull in public interaction. but should it come down to that? i don't think so.
though i've been isolated, that's not to say there aren't people i wouldn't enjoy seeing. a lot of my not calling though, largely has to do with not wanting to make people feel they need to alter their behavior on my behalf. i don't want people to stop doing what it is they're used to doing because there's an elephant in the room.
i can't wait until the warm weather comes. i really think the winter affects me in a negative way, makes me despair. i can't understand it, but it's harder to keep myself together. i also can't wait to get into a place to live. i need to live alone. more so than ever, i am craving my privacy. it offends people when you don't want to give them your time or attention, especially when you are surrounded by people who like you around for the sheer convenience of it, the ones you help as a favor only for those favors to become expected.
living at home has allowed me to inherit a bunch of unnecessary responsibilities. for example, did you know i have sort of inherited a couple of very expensive dogs who are not very smart? i am also an excellent multi-tasker, which enables me to clean the house, wash the dishes, do the laundry, take my brother wherever he wants to go, cook dinner AND take care of t he untrained dogs all at once? (i daresay i am pretty freaking amazing...)
my kid will be lucky though, because i won't get mad at him for being helpless. he's not a 44 year-old selfish woman, nor is he a 17 year-old groomed for only self-service and taking. he'll be just a baby, and from there, there are many possibilities. he'll get bigger and better, and i won't resent taking care of him, because contrary to popular belief amongst my relatives, that is what mothers are supposed to do for their kids, no matter what.

piss.

my mother purchased a dog. fine. (no, not really.) she already has one that she doesn't pay attention to/take care of. i was pissed on today by the older of the two (who is only 1 year old) right after i let them outside. i am going to be arrested for the murder of one purebred puppy.

lots of other things on my mind;
i am no longer comfortable anywhere i am. i do not want to explain anything further than i voulunteer. i hate people. they don't get it. i'm supposed to have a baby in like 3 weeks, but can't concentrate long enough to relax without some kind of unneccesary bullshit occuring. (i have to work, i have to take care of my brother because my mother has other more important things to do, i have to clean feces up off the floor.) all of these things mean i don't have time to have a child. i don't have anywhere to go that is my own. it's been almost a year and everything is just continuously falling apart. i hate these feelings, but have no way of fixing it.

creatively stifled. i want to get away from everything. i want to be fulfilled just once. that's it.

to be dissatisfied

phantom feeling
i am lacking the substance which you seek
while you remain always just out of reach
linger your scent on the tip of my mind
brush it away with the passing of time.

color of caramel against cafe au lait
i long to kiss your lengthened wrists, even to this day.
mandalas and wooden beads your personal rosaries
yet i cling to promises, to dreams, and a memory.


that is all i am brave enough to recall. do you love me, you would ask. are you in love with me? (some things don't need answers, they are written on the windows of the soul). samadhi will be here soon, hopefully not sooner than anticipated. the cleansing process is much harder than i had imagined. breaking into silent tears in an instant, feeling numb for the remainder of a day,
it's probably best that i try not to reach you; i find myself feeling more and more abandoned. you think i have no right. i don't know that i'll ever be able to put this behind me, even if i give my word. i doubt i would give my word on something so foolish.
there were beautiful things beneath the surface which were never given precedence to the already exploding supernova of your intentions. if i'd have know you had already made a firm life for yourself, i'd have never dreamed of falling into place. a woman never intends to be anything less than number one, and you know that.

with you feet in the air and you head on the ground...

i am stuck. in limbo. out of thoughts that are worth expelling.
locked keys in car this morning because i got nervous when a ashole rushed to pull out next to me. unrequieted love. lovelessness, and lonliness. longing for a comfortable familiarity lost long ago.

how am i going to make it in the world? how am i going to make it in the world with a child depending on me when i can't hardly take care of myself?
(baby, i think we're seriously fucked...)

tired all the time. without insurance, without sensibility, without comfort.
where am i going? it's hard to plan for the future when you don't even want to get out of bed in the morning. 9 long hours on feet, not a moment to sit. it's always, "miss, miss. coffee." is that my name? miss coffee.


maybe i'm taking myself too seriously. maybe i need some time alone. i'm so bitter, so angry. how can i fix that before the baby comes? samadhi royal. i don't know that i should even give him his name. i can't have his name or his word... why should i give him my child?

child... my child...... in less that 70 days he'll be here. my child. how do these things happen? when does god decide to let one slip in through the cracks? a lot of the girls i know get abortions. i didn't even think about that, and after you decide not to, wondering if you did the right thing is sacrelige or something. this whole experience has actually been awful. not so much the pregnant baby stuff, but the circumstances and experiences i've endured. there's only so much strength one should have to muster, and i think mine's worn thin long ago.

sarah is in london, and so there's noone in this country to hold me together in all the essential ways. people are too evasive without being very effective, like curing a cold with a labotomy. that's what it feels like to me anyhow...