introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K



not your mother's time zone - twenty seventh of june, 2001-under hazy sunsets-

"even mister cracker never counted on cheese whiz."~jump little children

.....and now that the theme song has played on, i offer you an entry written over one night and one day for your reading pleasure. or frustration. whichever.

i just got his email. he's really leaving on monday. he's really packing his things and making that trip and i'm glad that he's going, i really am. second thoughts, are these? hardly. i'm glad i'm not going. i'm glad i chose me and my happiness. i'm glad i've kept some of the strength i discovered not so many months ago. i'm glad i'm staying true to myself.

but he's going on monday. he's leaving me. and now, i see it from the other side of our proverbial table. now i see it as he must have seen it. and i know that lately, the time that Brian and I spent has been sparce and although i have never not valued a moment with him, i know that our time has been empty but for rehashed laughs and plans for a future together that will never happen. and is it right to call that empty? perhaps not. but its not been what it was between us. i just feel so disconnected from him, sometimes. i feel so not grown up. i feel so weak in comparison. and i hate that feeling...that constant lack of accomplishment. i despise it like i despise kentucky.

and he sent out the hurried email inviting us to his party and i know that i can't go. and i know that i would, even under all of the thumbs and fingers of discomfort, i would go. even with all of them that used to be a pseudo-family of mine, even with the parents of his that would just rather not have me go along...even with all of the everything uncomfortable between us and formerly shared friends, i would go. but i can't. i have to work and i'm okay with that, too. because i know i'd cry. i know i'm going to have this empty spot for him when he rolls on out of this sprawling strip mall town that suffocates me and clasps me tighter in its grasp, cleverly disguised as hugs and love and comfort; collapsed lungs and deflated hope cleverly disguised in walmart and american eagle and giant eagle and hollywood video and national record marts and stop lights and stop signs and cell phones: the epithome of a tomorrow i no longer want. i know i'll miss him and i will always wonder what would have been in that expensive californian city. but i'm trying to take myself away from it in the chariot of my slow motion time travel thoughts to five months from now...its like i said: its back to the original plan.

and the original plan has changed a bit. the original plan includes you. i never counted on you, baby.

its green and seasons. its sweaters and hoodie sweatshirts. its woods and coffee. its sandals and hiking boots and sneakers. its the rain on the leaves. its a new tent. its schools and work and a tiny little place where we can share what we've got. its hiking and walking and writing. its everything i wanted and someone with which to share it all; its everything i wanted with someone who will appreciate it for what it is: an adventure.

when i said i wasn't going, there were all of those factors. there was the glamour factor. i will never be so glamourous to fit in out there, and i know that. but with you, i could be anything. and there was the money thing that has become more of an issue than i ever wanted money to be. but i want to do this right, baby. i want to know that we'll be okay. i want to know that you won't want for a thing. i want to know that we'll be okay. and with this extra time and the ambition and strength you install in me like you're changing my monochromatic window display for something more complementary, i know that we'll be rich like sara lee chocolate cake...the industrial kind with the fudgey frosting. we'll be king and queen of our own world and i love that thought. you make me feel so genuine.

and i don't even like chocolate. only sometimes. only when i can't have you instead. only when i'm iron deficient.

and there was leaving Mark behind before it was time. there was me a few months ago thinking that i could really just pick up and leave and i know that i will and i know that i have to but if it were me leaving with him on monday, i would have this chasm of unreality that would only sink deeper the further west from here i got and i'm not ready for that sort of torn away emptiness. there are things we have to do. there is some time. lets do all of them. lets take that trip to maine. lets go see the museum together one more time. two more times. lets spend our porn sundays together. lets be the regal beautiful people we are when we're together.

and then, there was being three time zones from you, sweet beautiful incredible understanding underestimated boy. it simply couldn't be done. the jet lag and the mountain ranges between us would have slain me into a state of missing you worse than i've got even now...a state of missing you with symptoms like a pounding head that might explode if its denied you when it thinks of you one more aching tummy for the unbearably strong sweet coffee eating at its lining...and this strange euphoria that actually has me leaning over carseats to hold your hand when you're not there and turning over to hold you in a bed that is empty besides myself. i couldn't have done it and kept my sanity.

and now, here we are, discussing schools and geography, seasons and bedrooms, towels and beds. here we are plotting accounts and tomorrows and talks with parents. and its real. its more real than san diego. its more real to me than a uhaul. and i really think we should get that ryder truck with its "moving towards tomorrow together" motto or however sweetly it was put. i think that i want that rat trap apartment with its one small bedroom and a million things to make us grumble til we laugh. i want everything with you. and this puts me at ease.

you see: this last weekend was more real than any i've known. you see: this weekend was the most beautiful time i've ever spent with someone in our sort of way. you see: that drive with you and the way your face makes me melt when its all lit up with sunset in cincinatti made me realize that for you, i'd make an exception. for you, i'd get that piece of paper. for you, i'd make friends with the institution.

you are so special to me, t. you are my whole world and i thought i'd never say that but i am. you are my everything. you are my smile. you are my laughter and i love you.


i was thinking rather randomly

from one vision to the next

replaying everything you've said

in choppy out of order chapters

skipping quickly to the next

as if remembering would

make you feel closer

as if remembering

would make sure you stayed.

but i had to get on that plane.

and i was thinking rather randomly

until i took one deep breath

and tried to find some order

because my head was starting

to ricochet from side to side

with the power of your memory

the electricity

of what you do to me.

and i found a backwards order

remembering things in reverse

boarding the plane

kissing you


the drive to the airport

i saw things in reverse

arriving late

the drive

the sunset

the cooking out

more driving


leaving my father behind


i saw things in reverse.

the edge of the woods.

lightning bugs.

stumbling in the dark.





i saw things in reverse.

my mother's cooking.

my father's joking.

my friend's laughter.

your beautiful eyes.

i saw things in reverse.

waking up beside you on the hallway floor.

the drinks.

the punch.

the hugs.

the stolen kisses.

the laughter.

my laughter.

my friends.


the music.

your beautiful smile.

i saw things in reverse,

living them as if i could rewind

and playback

with the romance of a

video tape

and not a dvd.

i saw

my mother spreading food before us

the group of us full

and happy,

the group of us

driving to buy dessert

the group of us.

i saw things in reverse.

you meeting them.

them meeting you.

my father.

my mother.

your eyes.

your smile.

your reactions.

their reactions.

and i saw things in reverse.

i smelled work

and heard the voices of those

i hear every day.

i heard the news on cnn

and watched you getting ready.

i watched you sleep after

i'd been up for some time.


watching you.

listening to you breathe.

i saw things in reverse.

i heard the rain.

the sounds of your voice.

the moments with you never

to be forgotten.

the morning rain washing down the windows

of the hotel by the highway.

i saw things in reverse.

the drive.

the endless drive.

the coffee.

the choking cough.

my snoring.

your driving.

a road trip.



your hand in mine.

i saw things in reverse,

each memory more vivid than the last.

each emotion building and building.

i saw

waking up late.


and moments of closeness





i heard your voice.

i heard what you said.

i saw things in reverse.

i saw the sunrise.

i saw the sun set.

i saw us driving home.

i saw walmart

and ugly swim trunks and

shaving cream.

i saw

playing rummy

and papa johns

nsync videos

and marionettes

and two men with a gorgeous loft apartment

and a pink car

who made me feel at home.

musicals and cards,


and hot damn

or red hot

or oh baby

or whatever it was called.

and that ride from the airport.

i saw things in reverse.

like how you hold my hand and

lead me to your car.

like how you open my door first

in the chivalry

that makes me melt:

like a candle in a kiln,

you liquify me.

and i saw things in reverse.

i saw people at an airport

with which i grow familar.

and i saw you in a blue shirt and

khakis and

you were standing there

and i saw your face

when you saw me

and thats all i needed to see

to know how much you love me back.

like my mother looks at my father

i hope thats how you see me

looking at you.

i saw things in reverse

til i got to the most important memory of all:


your face.

your smile.

your love.

your hands.

your voice.

your laughter.


you are so smooth.

you are so right.

i want to play you over and over

like a favourite film,

like a favourite memory.

you are.


.what came before. - .what happened next.

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the doodles - 11 july 2017
at arm's length - 4 july 2017
like a sea-mammal needs a bicycle - 30 may 2017

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