This is the year’s Neighborhood

i just wanted to thank you ladies (mostly ladies) - for listening to my recent man bullshit and offering thoughtful comments. they truly do help and i can only hope that one of these days, i'll have some insight that helps you through trying times. 

I'm starting a writing group.  The most succinct description of it, in my brain, is: "From each according to their ability, to each according to their need." Which is my gender neutral, Marxist way of saying all are welcome and we're trying to structure things so it is flexible and beneficial to all, regardless of writing history or style. We require only that you be interested in writing & friendly, constructive discussion around the subject.  And that you live in the Twin Cities.  Email me to get more details, or go to sparklingrobots.livejournal.com to leave a comment if you're not a Vox person. No purchase necessary! (I know this is impersonal, but I don't know which of the people I know would be interested in such an endeavor.)

So, Mad King Thomas performed recently, which I mentioned briefly in a previous entry.  There's a whole lot of ruckus at the comments section of the Walker Choreographers' Evening Blog, if you want to dig to the heart of the debate.  It's pretty intense discussion about the nature of dance, audience expectation, artists' freedom and responsibility, plus whether or not we were dressed up as polar bears (we were).  There's also a review up at mnartists.org. Overall I am pleased with the response.  Even if some people need anger management classes.

Reading is pretty great.  I'm slogging my way through The Lord of the Rings, but I've also been snacking on short stories. If you're looking for good free fiction, I have to recommend this amazing site I stumbled on called Fictionaut. It's the lovechild of facebook and literary mags.  The recommended stories are unfalingly good. Like this story, Them, by Meg Pokrass. Or Caffeine-Fueled Revelation Machines, by R. Daniel Lester. Maybe you won't like them, but I sure do.

In other news, my life goes like this: Don't get enough sleep.  Spend an absurd amount of time knitting, sewing, crocheting, cross-stitching.  Plan long holiday vacations.  Buy presents even though I don't mean to consume so much. Schedule schedule schedule. Take long naps. Pet the cat until my heartrate slows down. Ride my bike.  Ignore the 4:30 pm sunset.  Ignore the dirty house.  Watch football.  Run as fast as I can until we reach December 21 and the days get longer again.  Wish I could/would take dance classes more often.  Try to make up for it by dancing in my apartment. Write. Sing along.  Have weird dreams about Einstein & the Beatles, or the Johns from They Might Be Giants.

The end.

finally got a response from matt.

i hate him...no i don't...he said he thinks about me. that he thinks about calling me all the time but knows it's not appropriate. he wants to see me but understands it's not a good idea. not right now. 

i don't know how to take that. he's not supposed to care about me.

i sent him an e-mail back that was a little friendlier in tone than i've had in the past. i caved. i told him how much i wish he'd reconsider. i told him i went on a date and that the whole time i was thinking about how i'd rather it was him on the opposite side of the table.

he said he didn't come pick his stuff up that day a few weeks back because he couldn't make the drive there, and couldn't go into the apartment foyer. why not? he's the one that broke up with me...i don't understand.

he apologized for not having his mail forwarded.

*

shit. just got a text from dean...i don't want to respond to him, but i feel like i'm being rude if i don't. he asked me how my day was going...

does he really want to know? does he want to know that i've completely stumbled again? - that in all honesty, my feelings still lie with someone else?

*

when someone cheats on you, and breaks up with you because he "can't bear the guilt of it," and then sends you e-mails about how much he wants to see you and hear your voice and how much he thinks of you...how certain things remind him of you...is that normal? is it normal for a guy to feel that way and tell you about it even though he's the one who ended it?

i do want him to come back. i really do. his e-mails tell me that he misses me and wants me back, but i don't really think he does or else he'd come back. and i can't think that way or it'll drive me crazy. 

• I am a machine right now! Accomplishing everything but the very worst task I have before me. #
• #amwriting a new short story from a vivid dream. Not the one where George Harrison shot Einstein and then I tackled Yoko. Different dream. #

loudtwitter.com set all this up for me.

...why matt needs to get his mail forwarded - he received a "save the date" for his friend's wedding in the mail yesterday.

something we would've gone to together. i don't need to see that stuff.

he still hasn't responded to my e-mail.

• After #nano I can't stop finding short story ideas. Perfect. The real goal has been met. #writing #

loudtwitter.com set all this up for me.

Please visit www.harlotssauce.com, a really wonderful magazine, with a poem of mine and my first published photo!  The magazine's main theme this month is life, god and the universe.  I believe in God, or an "invisible friend."  I have often struggled with this faith, forged in childhood.  I need my God like I need a safety blanket.  I carry God around with my everywhere.  In my poem, I am exploring how I feel about God.  Many good poems and articles in this issue of Harlot's Sauce, so please read and comment.  I plan to do so.

are we supposed to start with yays or nays?

let's start with the nays and end on a happy note:

• i've felt like hibernating lately...i'm not excited about winter. even though i just had four days off for thanksgiving, i can't seem to get enough sleep lately.
• finding dean to be more of a hassle than he's worth, at least today i am.
• i've been a little low on cash lately - matt moving out really put a damper on my income and i'm still getting used to not having that extra money coming in. doesn't probably help much that i'm going out twice as much.
• i hated that i had to e-mail him about his mail. but seriously. why wouldn't you get your mail forwarded? that would be like the first thing i did.

yays

• amber's coming over tonight to watch my sex and the city dvd's, eat salad, drink beer and sew her christmas presents. i'm working on my christmas cards.
• friday is the feeding america fundraiser at the 5th ward pub. i'm going with liz...maybe there will be some generous and thoughtful single men there.
• in general, i am doing pretty well...last night was a tough night when it came to matt. i haven't had one in a while. i do still miss him. part of me still wishes he'd come back.
• i have a job, i got a yoga teaching job, my family and i are in generally good health. my apartment is consistently clean and tidy now that there isn't a man there.*

side note:

*it was a little weird having dean at my house on sunday. it was weird having another man that wasn't matt in my apartment in a situation that wasn't entirely platonic. it kind of felt platonic given his sleepiness, but you know what i mean. i almost felt like i was doing something wrong - although matt apparently didn't feel like he was doing anything wrong when he cheated on me.

so much for ending on a happy note.

happy tuesday. 

Catholic Girl

The supposed buoyancy of Jesus in water

Used to obsess me as a child

Was Mary unable to bathe her baby?

Once at the end of a Sunday

I realized I had a bit of Jesus

Caught between molars

I hadn’t felt godly all day

And had fought with my sister

In the choir balcony

I squeezed shut my anus

My vagina

To avoid fouling the air

Sweat poured off me

I grew dizzy and saw lights

At the moment of transubstantiation

Red mist poured from the priest

And a low hum like a lion’s growl

Swirled about me

I had nightmares about the church

Running between pews

After a little devil dressed

In yellow rain coat and galoshes

Like the Morton Salt Girl

When I caught her

I saw myself at five

Laughing and bewildered

At the same moment

I had nightmares

About the Cat in the Hat

Damning me to fiery hell

He was not natural

A six-foot tall cat

Wearing a hat

He was Satan

Later when my sex swelled

And I had thoughts

Of women and men

I had dreams of coupling

In the depths of the sea

Mermaid beautiful me

I came upon the shore of the bed

In waves, in spume

I dreamt I was a lime-white lady

In a brocaded gown

a scary medieval Madonna

I came to the church

And was met by knights

Wearing those silly duckbill helmets

They told me

Though I was queen of the land

I was not ruler of the church

And could not enter

I’ve even dreamt I was the

Whore of Babylon

Riding a seven-headed dragon

Who was actually quite nice

Everywhere I went

I withered crops

Unintentionally

It wasn’t my fault

There were some saints

I could kind of have

I always felt that Joan of Arc was hot

I’d go with her

I’d be in her club

And Mary Magdalene

Was almost stoned

Till a long-haired Jesus

Saved her

She was worth saving

Worth fighting a crowd for

I think I’ve found my Mary

the scared girl at the back of the class

Something god-like in her

I want to help her fight

Lucy Simpson, Seattle, 12/2009