introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- days like these....it all seems possible. cresting the coldest hour - eighteenth of april-suddenly- alright. i know, already. i've got a lot of explaining to do. i've got a lot of catching up to do. i realize this. lets just get to it, eh? "love's great ocean came crashing down on me overflowing with possibility."~k.d. lang so i came home on sunday evening in the rain. my puppy made it vomit-free. i'd spent friday night at mark's, curled up next to one of two best friends sleeping in the room that night. i woke a few times, probably to the sound of my own loud snoring (which gets really loud when i'm sleeping in unfamiliar places...and is a big complex of mine.) to hear Mark breathe; to see brian curled on the floor at the end of the bed. i had tracing thoughts of holding Mark, but i don't hold people when i'm unsure. something wanted to hold him and tell him that everything will be better. something wanted to watch him sleep, but for the fact that i couldn't keep my own eyes open; but for the fact that the sun was coming up and i hadn't slept. we woke, mostly well rested. the alarm went off the first time at seven. after about four hours of "five more minutes" of alarms on brian's phone, i finally rose at eleven thirty. the beep beep beep of brian's phone probably echoed more loudly in my dreams than i remember now. i can hear the sound in my head still. I pulled off the comfortable long sleeved blue old navy shirt that Mark had lent me and pulled on my dress again. i like sleeping in other people's clothes sometimes. its something personal of his that made me feel comfortable. its a strange phenomenon, as are many things about me, i suppose. brian and i lit our cigarettes and smoked on mark's deck. i pondered the events of the night before, remembering the laughter. i was glad that brian decided to do what we were doing and when we piled in the car and met tammie who we refer to as "Poose" at eat n park, i felt whole for a few moments. for a few moments, i felt as though nothing else in the world mattered...not even that my cookie fuck fantasy came in a plate sort of dish rather than the traditional bowl. i had munchies. the iced cream was good. brian and i smoked our cigarettes on the porch and i felt my skin soaking up the sunshine. i smiled as i looked at my wrists. they've been getting slimmer again. my wrists are always the first to lose the weight. i smiled as i pushed the bracelet that my mother and father brought me from alaska away from its resting place on my wrist and smiled still further at the darkening tan lines. when my sunburn finally heals completely, i will be happy and more cautious. i ran my fingertips over the bone of my wrist and liked the feel of it, liked the feel of my own soft skin. we finished our cigarettes and went in. we were all going to go hiking. we verified plans with mark to meet at my parents' house as soon as we could. brian and i climbed into the jeep, donned our sunglasses, and turned up the radio, heading home. we always put the windows down on glorious days like saturday was. we always sing along with the radio. we always talk our best talks when we drive together. there is something about sitting next to someone and watching the world slide down the road behind you that makes for wonderful conversation. conversation is always easy when its your best friend. i ate a quick lunch with my parents and sister and the bubble headed friend of my sisters. that girl really annoyed me this weekend. i won't go into it, but i really have some things against plastic people who think that hiking is from store to store at the mall. does that make me a bad person harbouring dislike for a girl that is as predictably polite as a wind up monkey at Sheetz? does it make me less kind to not mesh well with a person who doesn't have that spark of intelligence in her eyes and talks the conversation to verify that really, there is no brain ticking in there? i'd like to think not. the boys came right after i'd showered and dressed for our excursion. i layed the quilt down in the back of mark's car as we threw the piling refuse from the back seat floor into a plastic garment bag, joking about the items and laughing over camel cash. i like to laugh and i am rarely sad when i'm with mark and brian. the three of us together is a non-stop riot. i always value every moment. i hardly forget an instant of our shared hours. verbil hopped up in the seat next to me. brian climbed into the passenger seat and mark into the driver's side. we rolled down the windows and turned up the david grey. my backpack contained a towel, some dog treats, a gatorade bottle full of the iced tea i'd made the day before and some ice cubes, some herbal refreshment (eh, it was a good weekend.) and a rope from an old army parachute. the rope is nylon and perfect for verbil when she needs to be leashed in the woods because of fishing season. she is a good dog. we hopped on the highway and drove straight on through Portersville, singing along, talking, and enjoying the fresh air. We joked about Portersville being a brothel town in the stagecoach days. We finally made it to Kennedy Mills, unscathed; we made it that far without so much as a gag from my usually carsick puppy. did i mention she is a good dog? we got out, locking the car and looking over the river? would i call it a river? yes, i think a small river or a really big creek. there is a dam under the bridge and there are rapids as far down stream as you can see. its so gorgeous. the shores there near the dam were peppered with fishermen, their licenses clipped onto hats and pants, their baited hooks and lines stretching into the turbulent water. the air was clean. i stretched and smiled, soaking in the sun as we crossed the bridge and climbed up onto the trail. we made our way up the hill and unroped the excited puppy. we hiked around the massive glacial rocks, looking down into gorges and cracks, stepping over mossy clefts. a spring broke up the grass of the ground and i was happy to hear the sound of the water crashing over the side of one of the monstrous rock sides. we looked over and climbed down around to the bottom of the thing, listening and laughing and calling amusing lines back and forth. bantering. i think i could safely say we bantered. my dog was ecstatic, running between us, finding her own tentative way around. i sat on a rock next to the fall and watched as my dog tested the shallow pool. i didn't think she'd do it: my dog is slightly afraid of the bath tub. she made it in to her chest before reconsidering. the water was very icey and i didn't chide her. instead, i tried to tempt her in further by throwing sticks in. she is smarter than i sometimes credit her as being. we each found a rock to sit on and had a cigarette. granted, cigarettes don't really exemplify the ideal hiker, but we are smokers. i snubbed out the butt of mine and put it in the cargo pocket of my khaki drawstrings. mark and brian carelessly tossed theirs to the ground. sometimes, i think i am over-careful about the woods. maybe its just that they don't consider some things. i didn't argue...much. i dislike the smell of cigarette butt in my pocket as much as anyone...but i couldn't see leaving it there for someone else to find. we moved on, hiking downstream, climbing impossible rocks, resting, enjoying the "frosty beverage" i'd packed. we smoked from my favourite glass pipe on a big rock that jutted out into the beautiful riverish creek. the sound of rapids was relaxing and rejuvinating in a way that rapids can only rejuvinate. its a rejuvination not in the same way that ocean waves refresh, but in a smaller less impacting sort of way that stays with you for a few weeks. perhaps the refreshing religion of water is based on the size of the body. i never thought of it as a size ratio. we are a size obsessed culture. i can at least admit to being a part of that culture more often than not. but yes. we smoked and i enjoyed the relaxation that comes with an overly long sober period and the comfort that comes with smoking outdoors and carefree, the bond between friends. i rarely forget a person that i smoke with and, although i'm seriously phasing that aspect of my life out, i enjoy it from time to time. this past weekend, i enjoyed it. i enjoy the sharing. we hiked on further still. brian was the perfect monkey boy, climbing up paths to nowhere while mark and i foraged along the paths into glens broken by the occasional spring or fire pit. we found some lovely places for camping. every summer i say that i want to camp more. i think my dog would be a good camping dog. i am a good camping dog. heh. we found the first calm spot in the riverish creek. a lovely shore complete with a perfect flat rock that seemed to be part of some sort of shelf that pushed out into the river was a wonderful place to stop again. i watched as the water spiraled. i watched the occasional water bug strut across the surface, breaking up the soft lines of current. the water in this particular riverish creek has always been known to take its occasional uninformed swimmer, kayaker, and rescue diver. mc connell's mills (the more popular mill downstream) saw three deaths just the weekend before. as calm as this section was, the spirals of current made the water spin slowly on the surface and one could only guess at its muddy depth and underlying whirlpool strength. my dog got curious, but she didn't attempt to chance the glassy reflective pools. later, when brian decided that he was, indeed, Smokey T(he) Bear, we watched some ashy deadwood from a small campfire left burning quench and float into the currents, quickly moving past our calm spot. it wasn't until then that i realized how truly powerful the current was. we stayed there on that rock til the sun set below the hill and a dark front moved in with clouds that chided us and threatened a bit of rain. i was awestruck at the beauty of a fish that jumped from the water to snatch an unexpectant insect from the air. it happened once or thrice in a surreal sort of manner that nobody would believe had they not been there. we hiked back soon after. the woods were dryer than i'd expected, although there were a few "tretcherous" spots. somehow, i was Clark and Brian was Lewis, and Mark, Sacajawea (or however you spell her name. again, i mean her no disrespect). He mistakenly referred to himself as Pocahontas. It was amusing. So the three of us set back towards the family car that belongs to Mark. "Tretch! Tretch!" I warned as I nearly slipped in some muddy unstable ground. Mark, who followed close behind did not take the warning. Tretch, as some of you may not realize, is the root word for "tretcherous". This is not true. But, for the sake of the story, accept it. *grin* The beautiful boy (who never believes it when i tell him) with all of the grace and poise i've ever known in a single person, slipped in the mud. In the seven years that I've known Senor Baked Ziti, I have never seen him embarrass himself. Now, I have. I was amused, but only in a way that a best friend *can* be amused when the other falls into mud, dirtying his expensive jeans. We made it back to the car otherwise unharmed. We headed home as the rain finally broke free from the clouds. It was lovely. My sleepy dog curled her head on my lap and i absently pet her as i listened to david gray and the sounds of driving. we headed to brian's house and ordered chinese. i had lo mein. i like lo mein. i always forget that i like it and order something more generic. afterwards, mark headed home, as did i. i spent the evening talking with the sweetest boy south of the mason dixon line. sunday was rainy. i didn't mind, really. i was still feeling the joy of the day before. really, the feeling hasn't worn off at much. its like i said: there is something refreshing about rapids. my mother. she is doing okay, i think. i still haven't heard anything about results. i imagine i will hear eventually. again: i am always the last to know, most of the time. (i guess 'always' implies 'most of the time', right?) i came home to indiana, the treehouse, and the package i've been awaiting for some time. if i could be any happier after the day and night spent with my best friends, this was the only thing that could have done it. if you've been keeping up, you know about Tennessee T. you know about the mix tapes that i loved making so much for him. you know that i sent them a little over a week ago. well...nearly two weeks, come friday. i came home and leafed through the mail. yes, my edy's ice cream certificate came. yum. free ice cream. yes, bills. yes, magazine. YES. PACKAGE. it was bigger than i expected. once my parents were out the door, i chased my own tail. wanting to fully enjoy the full effect of the first package i've received in years that wasn't from a corporation, i hurried to put my belongings in my room, creating a huge pile of laundry bags and blankets in front of my bed. i looked at the hand writing of the boy that i've been falling for for some time, enjoying the lines of his lettering, not wanting to miss a detail. it was a well taped package and i cut the tape with a kitchen knife only after i gently shook the package. i didn't want to miss a thing...not the weight of it, the feel of the cardboard. T has become a very important person to me in the last weeks and this was the first real tangible thing from him. i believe i must've been glowing a bit of yellow happiness like a dali painting. (yes, paul, life *does* sometimes mimic art.) i cut the tape and opened it, grinning widely. peanuts. styrofoam peanuts. it was perfect. jess got a bag and i scooped them carefully into it, taking care not to leave any on the carpet for my dog to swallow. jess kept them to send to our friend Box (who is also in Tennessee). I slowly pulled the contents from the box, marveling at how carefully things had been arranged. maybe not carefully. maybe haphazardly. i first pulled a video tape from the cardboard: Spike Lee's "Do The Right Thing", a favourite movie of mine since my first semester in college, when i discovered spike lee. LTBX, it said. I pulled the tape from the sleeve, revealing the carefully lettered information on the label. He'd written everything important. I admired at the completeness and carefulness of the script and the detail. Widescreen. I'm in love. Next, I removed the letter and set it aside, saving it in sweet anticipation. (god, i'm a sap, but i'm telling you, this meant the world to me.) i then removed a taped and bubble wrapped set of four CDs: his beloved Jude's "No One is Really Beautiful", K.D. Lang's "Invinceable Summer", and two mixed cds that he'd titled "Songs I Sing in The Shower (in a British Accent)" and "Artists that Punch Me in the Gut". The said shower CD had a drawing that he'd done on the back that is so precise and wonderful that i intend to get a plate holder thingy to put it here on my desk, should i ever find the desk under all of my things that have found homes here. I immediately put in the second mentioned mix CD and looked through the rest of the contents. He'd sent a citypaper sort of zine called Nashville Scene, a post card from one of my favourite films, "Being John Malkovich" that portrayed the "ripe vessel", and another zine called Rage. I read the letter slowly, absorbing the words and scripted handwriting as easily as i'd soaked in the sunshine just the day before. I popped some of the bubbles of bubble wrap. I am a dork, as forementioned in many previous entries. I like bubble wrap. He brightened my screen shortly after. I couldn't stop smiling. There is no way to really relate how much this package meant. I rarely get packages, like I said...and this one was so well thought out and so perfectly wonderful that I am still beaming. I haven't taken the time to listen to any of my old stereo standbys....there is no music in the world these past few days that would make me this happy because its from him. Again I say: Thank you T. *big hugs* And now, for even bigger news. God, I'm droning on, aren't i? Brian called me last night. His voice always makes me smile. "GIRL," he said in a way that brian m has said to me for years. "GIRL," I responded, as is characteristically appropriate in our conversations. "I've been thinking." "oh? have you?" "about what you said. about moving." "oh?" i said again. "do you want to move with me?" "where?" "i was thinking DC. or maybe Chicago." "YES." the conversation eroded to excitement and overly fast talking, suggesting a million cities and stipulations, questions, and nervous giddiness. "Not Chicago, Brian. I can't be landlocked like that. I dont' want to get stuck in middle america." "I understand. DC has the nations lowest unemployment rate." "i want to go west. Whatchoo think of SanFran? or Oregon? Or maybe Seattle?" I was ready to implode. I mean, why not? What's keeping me here? Why wait a year? The only thing that would keep me here is Mark. I can't imagine being so far away from him. I secretly want to kidnap him and take him with me. I don't want to cry. I know I will. I haven't told my parents yet. We're thinking San Diego, I think. Thats the top of my list. Hippies that i've helped in the past are coming out of the woodwork trying to help me in turn. Mark makes me want to cry. i know i have to go. i can't stay here lest i be trapped here unhappily forever. its a huge step. i haven't told my mother yet. she will, no doubt, read this as she is a sneaky mama and manages somehow. i will tell her myself when i'm ready; when the plan is more definite. i am going west. i feel like a pioneer in my own rite. i am excited and nervous and thinking that this will be the ultimate challenge; the ultimate trip for a james taylor song, as is the brian m and carole road trip tradition: one james taylor song per major road trip. Wild Mountain Pussy, baby. Er. Heh. Just like jelly, baby. and the walking man walks...... and then....lets get back to T, shant we? I believe that today makes the countdown down to a mere fifteen days til the Great Tennessee Road Trip. I am looking forward to this as much as a girl can look forward to something of this caliber. words have been rolling off of my fingertips as easily as rain down the shingles on our ragged treehouse roof. my imagination is as good as reality and the very thought of holding the hand of one of the most thoughtful, amazing, kind, accepting, wonderful, talented people i've known in some time or just being near him has been blowing me away. i don't know why i'm not scaring myself yet. i mean, i do sometimes. when i'm really especially honest with myself some afternoon daydream times, words like love roll around in my head and i quickly box them up again and put them back on their shelves. i don't really know if its possible and i dont rule it out...but there is the rational part of me that doesnt' want to rush a damned thing. and most of me is just plain enjoying falling deeply into a person that understands me in a way that only my closest friends do; falling for a person that is kind and good and special. i've never been more at ease with myself nor doubted myself less or been more comfortable being in these yards of flesh. he makes me feel pretty; he makes me feel worthwhile. its a good warm glowing feeling. a hopeless romantic? me? never. i'm heartless. don't forget it. no compassion. *wink* all said and done as best all can be said and done in the electronic world, i've never been so content to just be; i've never been more glad to share a song or two before bed; i've never been more glad to curl up with thoughts of the sweetest of all possible sweet boys and fall into slumber. these are the things i've learned to appreciate after a year of singularity. i owed it to myself, that year and some months, i think. i'm glad i took the time to reaquaint myself with me or i'd never be able to appreciate this goodness in my life like i am. after enough time, even the deepest scar tissue soaks up a little sunshine. broken hearts, i'm convinced, can mend if given the time. the shards of a glass hearted boy's explosion have been pushed out finally....and i can put him in his box and leave him there from this point on. i am honestly and truly happy and i owe much of that to T and my other close friends. so....thank you....all of you. Mark, Brian, Vicky, Nacho, Tennesee T, little brother, Bells....all of you. Thank you for giving me back some sunshine. anyway. thats how things are. i feel better having gotten all of that out. i'm glad that things are working finally. i'm glad that tim signed a lease with someone else and left me free to wander to better things than this one horse town. (nah. not for me. you keep it, tim. i don't want any part of it.) i'm glad i'm not trapped here. i'm glad i'm being more honest with myself than i ever have in my life. i'm glad i'm doing what i want: following my dreams. i'm happy....so fucking happy. i believe the quote from that movie goes: "i've gone out the window." i have. and i'm loving every minute of the sunshine. good night, my faithful minion kitties. as uncle milton says: "keep hope alive". be well. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .what came before. - .what happened next. a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017 |
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