I love it and I hate it when you realize where I’m going.
You follow me too swiftly, finding yourself trampled beneath my feet.
I wish I received more letters and I wish they were all from you,
but I fear that knowing too much about each other will drive us apart.
I cannot be concerned with where life takes you
when I am barely concerned about where it takes me.
We’ll go together, apart, forgetting one another, longing to be together.
3.31.2008
[brian dale]
I’m not a big fish in a small pond,
I’m not a small fish in the ocean,
I’m not a fish at all.
I sneak upon you, surprising you
from beanth your feet.
As you get to know me,
get to see who I really am,
you might be filled with wonder and awe
and think the greatness of having met me.
As I press on away from you,
I fade away into the blue and into
the recesses of your mind,
an image of something that was,
but that is no longer so impressive.
I long to rekindle the wonder you felt
the first time I allowed you to see,
but the second time I swim by
you’ll think you remembered me larger.
3.29.2008
This is a fragment, I believe. I am playing with it and tweaking it and making it more user-friendly. An update should be available for your computer soon.
I don’t really know if I need to add something to it. Obviously, it is a whale, but does it need that spelled out for anyone? And what sort of title will it need? Oh, the dilemmas. I feel like it is almost trite and a tad too self-deprecating. It was never meant to seem so sad, but sometimes I can only seem to wrap up my thoughts by ending on a bitter note. I’m working on that. Thoughts? Suggestions? Please, rip this one apart if it needs it.
I was prepared to become you for so long and yet I’ve simply become me.
Your words pound in my head, hollow drums beating low words streaming on about people I wish I could have made love to.
Here in my universe, the one containing only fragments of the Frank O’Hara I was meant to become,
I meet new people, but few artists and wonder still how to make you proud.
I’m secretly lost, confused, wanting to find the path I started out on so confidently, but crawling helplessly on the floor.
If living this life means staying myself, I’ll accept it and move on, powered by your words and those of Joe Brainard,
of James Schuyler and again of [especially] you.
Alaska cannot make Frank O’Haras; life is too scattered, each person blowing in the wind towards an unknown destination.
There is only change and nothing seems to settle. There is far too much money.
I would have fantasized about you [more] if you were around today, but I will meet up with you again when we’ve both returned as lesbians or cats or both.
To fall in love with a person who died thirteen years before I was born seems dimwitted, but my destiny is to discover my soulmate and know it is you.
Become me instead, as I am not becoming you well. Sink into me through your words, which I spend countless hours devouring.
Meld with me through osmosis, your loves of art and of men finding their way into my heart.
Fragments are powerful when those fragments are of you.
3.27.2008
so, the site exploded. I am really irritated about it right now. I will apparently be working on this for the next few weeks. Bear with this. All of the pages that used to exist are now posts, so I might just delete a lot of pages and start over. The great part is that I am unable to login, so I can only do this on my own computer and it takes about 45 seconds for a page to save, so it will be taking an obnoxiously long time to correct this problem. sigh.
Yes, you are the butch, aren’t you?
Sipping our sodas — bellies full of burritos
Don’t fall on your head, find feet and grab hold of a tiny red car,
yours or mine, it doesn’t matter which. I’m obligated to laugh.
Riding around these cold afternoons, the winter is holding on as best it can,
your head seemed as full as mine of new information,
of disappointments, of distractions, of fear (but I’m not telling).
The newness of new is wearing off quickly, but don’t take one giant step back.
It’s all the same, you’re all the same, I’m all the same,
the characters keep changing, but the plot never does.
I’m starting to attach to people, remind myself of where I meant this to be.
Finding your way with bitter guides is hard.
At least we can jump into a car and run away for an hour.
So, you be the butch, with your harem waiting at home, and I’ll be your sidekick,
the Madonna loving, muscle shirt wearing, swishy fag
who waits for your direction, but still gives orders as if I was your boss.
Don’t report to me or their will be Hell to pay, trust me.
3.21.2008
Heather
for a friendship I hope has more life in it
She’s liquid.
I grasp for her, for who we were,
for what I wish I could will her to be;
she slips through fingers too ill equipped
to manage with the wetness of our friendship.
In vain, I clutch too hard;
the last of what we are escapes silently.
3.17.2008
David Eugene, look at me when I am thinking of you!
I declare myself a child of narcissism. I’m a disciple,
a follower of the most newly found.
Love is disguised well in sarcasm, in moments of mocking and making-fun.
I only see the Davids of this world for who they are and rarely for who they want me to see,
longing for who others make me want to be,
afraid [at times] of whom they’ll believe me to want and afraid they’ll think it is always him.
Oh David, do you not recognize the idolatry in my loyalty?
Doesn’t my face give away the desire to be looking into my own face as I look at you?
It does if you’d look up and see my eyes, the tears still kept close, pooling in my eyelids.
I became me such a short time ago; being someone else doesn’t seem so drastic.
I wonder why I cower in my corner, shy away into the safety of home
when safety comes from experiencing the world and those in it.
Denial of this truth makes me feel safe, despite so many shouting it like anthems,
begging me to listen
Love means replacing my foolishness with the needs of friends,
an act that is excruciatingly joyous.
David is more important than I am — more than I am.
[so too are the others, whose hearts I meant to steal while I had the chance]
They exist, whereas I seem like mere fragments of their lives, real on their terms.
Reassurance is nice; I’m not looking for pats on my head
like a Lhasa Apso with its head cocked to one side, no attention ever enough.
My needs are basic — understanding and compassion and selflessness;
a recognition of value.
To require selflessness is selfish.
If I am to be the tucked into the shadows, part of other people’s lives, but only negligibly,
then I should be rewarded with love — romantic love. I should and will.
Heartache is trite, but I dwell on it even as I try to set it free,
unchaining my tongue, allowing bravery to escape.
I release my heartache in the name of becoming that person who I see in David,
who has been rewarded for his beauty and brazen spirit
with love and sex, but more importantly companionship [warmth].
I humbly bow and request my turn, giving thanks
for less obvious, yet still true love and for great aspirations.
For life and someone to share my dinners and wine with,
models set by those I so desperately wish I could be, I can still only long and wait.
But I don’t wait alone and my side is crowded with those too ashamed to admit how they really feel.
3.17.2008
inside a herd of tiny buffalo stampede me towards my next moments
occasionally they pause to graze on memories i’m done with and information i just never used
and then they get restless again
snorting and butting heads, kicking the ground and grunting
and in tandem they all start off again
some days i wish i could tame them, corral them into a fence and brand them
but in doing so i might stop being me
3.15.2008
or, This is why people like me shouldn’t be alone
for my heart, which is lonely
If only for a moment, I should receive the happiness I’ve earned.
Winter is long and I seem to be one of the few who wouldn’t have it be any shorter. It gives me hopes of cuddling up with someone, losing myself in another person’s warmth.
Shake me, so I’ll realize you really are there and this has all been a dream. Wrap your arms around me and we’ll go back to sleep.
People seem happy when they are in love and I just go about my business pretending not to notice.
This will seem so distant someday soon. I’ll be astounded at how young I was and how naive. I’ll read this aloud, amusing someone else with how lonely I seemed and how desperate it all was. I’ll give him a hug — a peck on the cheek and tell him how lucky I am to have someone so wonderful in my life. He’ll make a sarcastic quip, as though the sentiment was lost, but he’ll have heard me. And he’ll silently agree.
I’m using “the Secret,” hoping for an attorney from Lubbock. Or maybe just more money. Or maybe some guy with no job, still living at home.
I want to feel taken [for granted].
Should it come up in conversation, make me sound easy without sounding too slutty. I want to assert my availability without attracting the wrong set of people. I think you know who to look out for. Make sure they aren’t wearing lavender… or chaps. No, wait, chaps can be hot.
I have secrets to whisper to you when we are alone.
3.13.2008
I’ve still got a horrible cold. I’m on the non-stop coughing stage, which makes me sound like a “demon frog” according to a coworker. I’ve spent far too much money on medicine that seems to have done nothing, although it did allow me to work for more than a week.
As I wasn’t in the mood for much else, I spent my sick days watching the three seasons of Boston Legal that are on DVD. It is such an addictive show, but knowing that there is no more for a while, I can move on and find something else to occupy my time.
Most of the paper I had ordered has now arrived and I need to really start in on my scrapbooks if it is not to seem wasteful to have purchased the supplies. I am waiting for copies of photos from my parents for a lot of my pages, but I can certainly do some things with photos of my friends here (if they will get me some).
I have not started back up at the gym. I can’t really go while I am sick, so I will just have to go as soon as I can, which hopefullly is this week, but we will see. I really miss it right now.
