Family — So many people I know have strained relationships — or no relationship at all — with their families. I am so lucky to have parents who have become friends over time. And my brothers are some of the best people I’ve come across in life. I’d want all four members of my immediate family in my life even if I wasn’t related to them. They remain my only regret in moving to Alaska. I wish I could see them more than I do, but cherish even more strongly those times I do get to spend with them.


Alaskans — As lucky as I was to get such amazing parents and brothers, I never thought I would be as lucky in my life again. I’ve always resigned myself to the notion that friends come into and drift from your life with great fluidity. That is why I love people with such ferocity when they are in my life — I know it will not last. However, the group of people who have found a way to let me into their lives here in Alaska are the ones I don’t accept a temporary friendship with. David, Daniel, & Denis feel like family in a way few of my friends have in my life. All three make me feel safe in unique ways. I am so thankful for them. And I’m trying my hardest to not hold on too tightly.

Oklahoma — I needed to leave to appreciate it. I think it is true that every place has a unique sense of itself and I’m quite content to be from Oklahoma. I wouldn’t want to be from anywhere else.

Books — I up and left a better paying job with more obvious room for growth to work in a bookstore again. I simply need to be around books. I enjoy my job at Title Wave Books in Anchorage for a lot of reasons. None of those reasons are because it isn’t Barnes & Noble, which I still miss, or Borders, which I still miss. To me, it isn’t about a place being corporate or independent. It isn’t about what the store looks like. It is the books themselves and the life they give the place.

Old Friends — As people have drifted out of my life, some have not drifted away from me, but towards new lives for themselves. Those people have remained an important part of my life. Sometimes I find it hard to remember that I am loved; these people have reminded me in some way. I appreciate them so much.

Animals — We aren’t here on this planet alone. There are so many beautiful creatures we are blessed to share our world with. My life is enriched with both cats and dogs, whose sense of themselves makes me wonder how animal intelligence can be disregarded. I am thankful that I share my planet — my home — with hoofed, clawed, feathered, & furry individuals.

Shopping — I am a consumer. I love to find things that are beautiful to add to my home, even at the expense of being responsible.

Have a happy Thanksgiving.

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I had a series of dreams that were extremely vivid last night. In one, I was watching as two young guys destroyed an ancient monument of some significance. I was some distance back recording the whole thing. Another man came up to me, excited that I had caught them, but encouraged me to get out before they say me. We made our way through the forest we were in until the helpful man tried to kill me. I picked up a large stick and stabbed him. He pretended to die, but I couldn’t get myself to stab him again, so I left. I watched him get up and run the other way… and then I woke up.

In another, similarly disturbing one, I was in a house with a woman who I lived with. We were the only ones capable of summoning a guy who would certainly kill. She left it to me, fearing that there were people about to discover that we had the incantation, but knowing that if there was only one of us that they couldn’t kill one. She gave me a flashlight and the book containing the incantation and told me that when the time was right, I would know what to do. After many threats and negotiations with those who’d broken into the house, I said the incantation, resurrecting the killer. And then I stared at the flashlight, wondering when the “right time” would come. And then I woke up.

I the last one, I went to work on what seemed like a normal day. Most people were on bike, but I made my way to one of the few car spaces and parked my car in a device that dangled it over the edge of a cliff to keep it safe. I went to punch in under a large tent, full to capacity with all sorts of people. A woman came up and asked for help getting a few things while I was getting ready for my day in the back of the tent. The other employees just raised their eyebrows at her and went back to socializing. I apologized for them and offered to help her. She gave me a list and told me the things were just too high to reach. Still outside, we made our way through a bustling world of an outdoor fair of some sort, down a path and towards the items she wanted, high up in a tent on the far side of the many acres. On the way I remarked that he charcoal sequined dress was the most perfect dress for her, but did not mention the bright orange sneakers she’d chosen to pair with them. A trio of ladies tried to get me to help them, but I told them I was helping someone else and to sit tight and someone would be by. The chose to follow us instead. Somehow, I lost the lady I was helping and the other three. I did find one of my managers who remarked at what a successful Oktoberfest this was. And it was. Everyone was happy and enjoying themselves. The fun was organic; very little structure disrupted people’s enjoyment. I made my way up steep rocks, where I thought to myself that going to the gym and running around the rainforest before work were probably not my best ideas. And then I woke up.

What does it all mean… and why did I remember these dreams?

This election was such a relief.  Thank you to those whose states voted for Obama.  Mine did not.

I apologize for Alaska; don’t judge us all by the actions of those who have voted for a convicted felon.

I’m afraid of death.

I’m more afraid of not living forever.

Kisses.

untitled [mediocrity]

How are we preparing ourselves to be gods,
to shed these skins and rise to greatness?
I’ve been expecting miracles and have found
normalcy.
Mediocrity is punishment for lack of passion,
a pain I’ve allowed to flow through me,
finding ways to penetrate my fibers.
I’m looking for ways to free the me who
screams and wants to be released.

10.15.2008

The creative block continues. It took considerable time to squeeze the above from my head and I really believe that while writing should be a lot of work, it shouldn’t be this difficult. Perhaps I need to put aside my silly fears and just write the things I know would flow easily. Perhaps I should try harder. I’m waiting for that elusive muse the deliver a swift kick to my backside and get me moving. Maybe I’ve waited too long; I should just do it myself.

So, the snow come to us about a month earlier than it did last year. I’m both annoyed and relieved by its return. I do love the crispness of the air when I walk outside in the morning. It blasts me awake in a refreshing way. I love the stillness of a busy city when it is blanketed in softness that blocks out the sound. To be surrounded by bustling and still feel peaceful is a surreal experience that summer doesn’t offer in the same way for me. But I had already forgotten about the driving. I’ll get over it soon enough and it won’t feel like such a big deal to never seem to get through the intersections fast enough. In the meantime, I’ll try to be careful and not let the roads distract me. This place is already piling up with cars crashing into one another. I don’t really want to be a part of that.

Inspiration will come. I trust that. I also know I’m probably forcing it a bit, which won’t help. Maybe I need to get out, have a little fun for once and let my creativity work itself out.

Happy Birthday to KC, Meghan, & my 7 year old kitten, Franz.

Featured Image Art: photo of Franz

The 2 f’s
run through giraffe
like 2 giraffes

{Ron Padgett}

Happy birthday to a couple of people I love. Y’all know who you are.

I spent a couple days in Seward with my Sourdough family. It was nice; our trip was in celebration of another marvelous year ticked for Mr. David, but somehow transcended him and was a welcoming moment in all of our lives. I rarely am able to share the beauty of my own birthday and I remain impressed that David was so willing to do such a thing. Some sort of Alaskan magic permeated that place and made our outing seem like some sort of grand vacation instead of the overnight quickie that it really was. Denis, thank you for guidance. Daniel, thank you for the camaraderie. David, thank you for being born. And a very big thank you to the folks in Seward who were uncommonly wonderful people.

It snowed yesterday.

Although I was one of the many Alaskans who sighed a financial sigh of relief recently, I must say all this freedom from worry has made Brian a dull boy. I’ve been doing what I want and when I want to do it. Time to pull back the reigns a little before I find myself begging for food. With this enthusiastic consumerism has come a huge creative block for me. Nothing is flowing as freely as I want it to and my site is suffering for it. Sometimes, there is nothing painful to say, which I suppose is a good thing in a way.

I need to get out of town more often; I enjoy this place.

Notes

Written 13 September 2008 in Anchorage, Alaska.

Brian Fuchs, “All Growed Up” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

________

Original Version

29! Did I just realize that?!?

All Growed Up

The icons are all dead or broken,
ushered off in wheelchairs and caskets of immoral expense to paradises
surrounded by wildness.
My childhood crumbles without the support of the ones I admired and by the weight of my guilts and follies.
That time of heroes is so distant — it no longer even feels like a dream,
no longer feels like a memory.
The blurred fragments of the Sues, the Mikes, the D’Jeilas… they are fading into emptiness,
leaving me with a search for new people to look up to, if anyone.
I miss the me who was in that time, but celebrate his death.
The me of now is an improvement, a focused replica of an aimless child.
The slate has been cleaned and readied for the new icons to place on pedestals.
Soon, I’ll break out of the thin shell of fear that remains and emerge as a fully complete person.
My wings itch to stretch out and let me fly.

9.13.2008

I’ve been focused on crafting lately… cardmaking and scrapbooking in particular. I’m trying to do things that are unique to me, but sometimes it is hard to find stuff that doesn’t end up making my pages look like everyone else’s. I’d also like to get into artist trading cards (both collecting and making them). I only wish this stuff hadn’t gotten so expensive recently. I’ve been putting stuff on scrapbook.com to get some feedback… there are some really talented people on that site. I’ll probably put stuff on Craftster soon too, but haven’t done much on there yet.

my scrapbook.com gallery
Tim Holtz (I love grungeboard!)
Cosmo Cricket
Paperwishes
Martha Stewart Crafts

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I’m a bit stressed. It seems to always be something.

This week, it is family drama keeping me up at night. I’m much more stressed about it than I realized. I wish I was home to be supportive, but glad I’m 4,000 miles from the mess.

Why isn’t ibuprofen a sleeping pill?

Open your arms (and welcome Love)

A fervent plea to those people I’ve seen my Church family morphing into, slipping away from me, from Love. A prayer for the many who’ve seen the backs of their loved ones too often, shivering alone because they were misunderstood or openly judged for being human.

My neighbors turned towards themselves
and forgot my face.
Backs towards me with multitudes of assumptions.
My heart feels the hymns,
feels the joy still.
I’m unchanged.
My image fails me; refuses to take the shape of the mold
[the idyllic life]
the person I was supposed to be.
I’m neither broken nor lost.
I’m Love’s child, regardless of whispers and raised eyebrows.
My home,
our home.
I never felt so unwelcome from a family, silently, passively.
Judgments. Silence.
Silence.
From my perch high above the elders,
the deacons, the little old ladies
who wait for death on the third pew from the back,
my mind stretches, finding thoughts far from my body,
dreamily.
I welcome judgment.
Don’t pray for me in anger
or sorrow
or disappointment.
Don’t welcome be back from depravity.
Be family; be true to Love.
Love. Love.
Open your arms — not only to me,
not to selfish or petty concerns of mine,
open your arms because they should be open.
Because they are there for welcoming,
uncrossed and warm,
welcome the children, your family,
forgotten innocents,
the joyful, the content,
the exuberantly happy,
the depressed, and the angry.
Keep you arms open to those whose lives you don’t understand,
whose lives are full of light and laughter,
but cannot find comfort in rigid conformity.
I’ll join them too — march with them
into the auditoriums across distances,
across situational divides.
Be Love.
Kiss your neighbor on the forehead and have them over for dinner.
There is nothing important like Love.
There is nothing but Love.
There is Love.
Love.
And Love will take our hands — yours, mine,
the multitudes huddled in the rain.
We’ll find ourselves then.
We’ll free ourselves and be family again.
And selfish concerns and trivial differences will never be able to keep us apart.

8.21.2008

Featured Image Art: Michelangelo, “The Creation of Adam”

On this beautiful August morning, I find myself focused on my soul. God has been at the at the front of my mind for a while now, tugging gently at my spirituality. Having just read My Trip Down the Pink Carpet by Leslie Jordan, I feel less alone in the world than I was starting to feel.

I have some of the best friends one could hope to have. Not only have I been able to retain a whole host of occasional friends from Oklahoma, people with whom I never need to catch up, but love spending time with when I have a chance, but I’ve made some amazing new friends in Alaska. These Alaskan friends are the most giving, warmest people I’ve ever known. But as far as my own faith goes, I cannot begin to relate to any of them.

At best, I’d lump the majority of my friends into the agnostic category. But that is such a religious term. I don’t care for it because it seems to imply a deficiency on their part. And it isn’t them I see as the issue. Although they were all raised Christian, it seems that Christianity failed each of them in some way, keeping them from retaining faith in faith. And to me that is infuriating. It is a clear sign to me of the common treatment of people who insist on being individuals — those who seem to have no choice but to live outside the parameters of strict Christian thought. I’m not only talking about my gay friends whose persecution is well documented, but of anyone whose life doesn’t fit into the idyllic dream of the conservative Christian community.

However, these same non-religious people who I love so much are the ones who make my soul shine brighter than those people I spent years worshiping with. They are my spiritual base. They are some of the most healing and spiritual people I’ve known in my life and recognizing that would do wonders for the religious community.

I often feel like I exist far beyond the norms of any group I’d possibly belong to. But why do I long to belong to a group, to be categorized? That is a silly notion and I do understand that. I’m going to try to be myself more than I have been… and by whatever means I need to… and with or without the support of others. I only know how to be me the way I am.

Jonathan helped to define my belief. Perhaps I need everyone to show me how to get there. Daniel, David, Heather, Denis, Justin, Travis, JD, Kendra… everyone has something to offer and as a whole, it all seems to work together.

Take Back the Word :: Robert E. Gross and Mona West {2000}
My Trip Down the Pink Carpet :: Leslie Jordan {2008}
Stranger at the Gate :: Mel White {1995}

Featured Image Art: AI Image (made using Wonder AI)

Brent hit 30 and I didn’t have the means to call and wish him a happy birthday. And so, rather than that I wish him an entire year full of unimaginable joys. I’m ready to confess my jealousy. It has always lurked there, but I’ve tried to deny it for too long. Brent is making his life happen himself. I’m still muddling through, waiting for someone to help me out. Brent has a family. I want a family and find it harder than I thought it would be. Congratulations to Brent for achieving successes I still wait to start dreaming of. I admire you (and blushed on admitting it).

David & Daniel celebrate six months together today. I am so happy for them, but as I’ve said before, I’d like to be even happier for them, but loneliness requires that I harbor just a little bit of spite for their love. Does that make me a bad person? I don’t think so. And I know they both know I love them to itty bitty pieces. Congratulations to the lovebirds.

Stan celebrates a birthday tomorrow. I don’t often know what to say to someone like Stan. His life is an embarrassment of riches and is so richly embarrassing at the same time, but that doesn’t keep me from fantasizing about having his life. It seems to be what I want and so I wish I could be more like him everyday, but I pray that if I ever start to become him, my brothers warn me and keep me from it. I do envy Stan’s happiness with Michael. Congratulations to him for becoming the best version of himself he can be.

And on an unrelated note:

This Journey Seems Long

Possibility falls like feathers,
gently landing on my head with me barely taking notice.
I think I felt something and life rushes past me,
my feet cemented in this moment.
I’m a statue, a gargoyle,
a testament to following dreams, even as I failed myself.
I’m unfolding myself and trying desperately.
Thirty is ugly for a child like me.
I’m a work in progress —
confused, lonely, surrounded.

8.14.2008

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or, So Lonely I Wish the People Could Stay Underwater

I have no intention of giving in and joining the ever-growing ranks who are reading Twilight Saga. I have no interest and any inkling of interest I had was slain by the sheer volume of requests I receive daily about these books. It is too much. And that is a common relationship I have with books. Once an author or title reaches uber-popular status, I lose all notions of reading them. This silliness has kept me from reading Christopher Moore, Chuck Palahniuk, Augusten Burroughs, and even the latest David Sedaris book. George R. R. Martin, Robert Jordan, Robert Ludlum, and Ian Fleming all make a similar list, but it is the subject matter I really don’t care for. I’ve only recently decided that it is okay to read Harry Potter and His Dark Materials books, but I’ll still keep it a bit quiet when I do. I don’t really know why that is, but I recognize that it is a bit silly.

Perhaps the best thing to do in this situation is to list all the authors who I am only avoiding because of their ridiculous popularity and read one title by each and be done with it. They do have to be popular for a reason, right? Although, that is the same sort of illogic that could get me into some trouble, if I was to start reading Janet Evanovich or J.D. Robb (Nora Roberts). I’ll just try to not make that sort of mistake.

Meanwhile, as they say*, I’ve finished The Monsters of Templeton. It is amazingly well written. I’d pretty much recommend it to anyone. I did find that on those nights when I was really sleepy, but not so much to fall asleep, and I would try to read a chapter of Lauren Groff’s book, I would easily get confused or lost in her genealogical trek. By the end, there were a few ends that were tied up in surprising ways (for me). That didn’t make the book any less enjoyable. Far from it.

*”meanwhile, as they say…” is uttered by Julia Child during one of shows. Makes me smile.

 

8 August 2008

Featured Image Art: book covers

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Birth

And now, this 29th time around the sun is coming to an end.
My trips seems less celebratory than ever, but somehow more satisfying.
I enter the final year of my 20s this very second.
It isn’t a disconnection, it isn’t loss.
Life seems to have only just begun.

8.5.2008 (written at the minute of my birth, 9:01a.m. AKDT; 12:01p.m. CDT)

I’ve begun my 30th trip. How is it that my birthday always feel a little different from other days? I suppose I’ve wondered that before, but leading up to today I really thought that this birthday, more than any other, would feel like just an ordinary day. Perhaps it is the cold I’ve had or the frustration of life not going the way it is supposed to go, but things haven’t been as merry as I’d like. Today, that seems to have changed. I am still waiting for adulthood — or the realization of — to smack me in the face.

My day started beautifully. I had decided to not go over to David & Daniel’s last night after they called and told me they were going to bed instead (the initial plan had been to go over there), but I decided that I wanted the change of scenery. The first minutes of the day were spent rediscovering what it is like to be outside in the dark. It seems like it has been a long time since that happened, with the longer days of summer. It even struck me as odd that it would be dark at midnight. Daniel got up to join me while I used the computer at their house, which was nice. I stayed a couple hours, then came home and slept for a bit. Since waking up this morning, I’ve spent the day updating poems that I had written earlier this year. I’ve also done a tiny bit of writing today, but more editing. Let me know what you think of the revised versions. I think I finally am getting “Whale” where it needs to be. Also, is this “more” thing annoying or not?

Birds

Summer failed to arrive in this grey urbanity.
Anchorage feels naked, empty
without the carpet of ice and snow crunching below.
I was aware of it when lupines and wild roses
heralded the arrival of what should have been June.
I was keenly aware of the missing white when
flowers conceded, accepting the cruelty of warmthlessness.
This city is wet now, as the great lion arrives.
Saddened by this dreary failure, the cat weeps,
drizzles pulling themselves from a sky
that has married itself with concrete.
The world darkens, turning even more grey and distant.
All hope escapes of summer, of warmth.
It’ll return to Alaska now, the familiar cold driving
away smaller birds and welcoming ravens.
In the merriment of an metropolitan buffet,
they’ll shoo the clouds, revealing the sun,
shining brightly on the brief days of a frozen world.

7.27.2008

Lightning Bugs

It hasn’t been enough to love people
to grasp at them, lightning bugs
I want to jar and admire.
They’ve been too quick, lighting up
and confusing me.

I’m no longer willing to feel
punished by time, by God (or god),
by the will of those who just
don’t want me.

5.15.2008

Whale
ode to my vanity

I sneak upon you, surprising you
from beneath your feet.
From not knowing to knowing,
I grow enormous and fill you field of view,
become your entire world for a few moments.
I press on away from you towards newness,
fading slowly 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

Sun Vs. Son

Sun
Falling rays prove merciless;
the hospital all robed in pink fills with babies,
exhausted mothers
breathless
from rising heat.
Son,
colored like the sun and screaming,
comfort taken too hastily.
The minty green dressed men and women
put the baby in a box, shine lights,
drain the sun from his skin.
Rejoicing, the sun burns more fiercely.
The world sighs.

8.4.2008

The Short Reign of a Queen

Heather warmly picked up the old girl,
dusted her off and proudly placed her
high on a pedestal.
Norma purred, closed her eyes.
The two fell in love among yaps
and slobbers.
Comfort, home, family, importance.
Heather’d created a queen and Norma
was content to be crowned.
Amid celebrations of the new monarch,
Norma’s life quietly expired.
Heather’s heart broke and tears flooded
the world; nobody could be as they once were.

7.11.2008

The Short Reign of a Queen is a revised version of a poem I had been afraid to post. I think it captures the situation now, so I offer it to the world.

Smoking, Waiting

With clouds of nothing else to occupy my time,
I’ve paced the walkways in front of jobs
where I arrived too early, cigarette in hand,
waiting for purpose.
Work is not and cannot be life or love,
the search for these things prevents
nervousness and the need to smoke.

4.16.2008

Featured Image Art: photo by David Clode (via Unsplash)

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Summer reappeared briefly (I assume). It was a beautiful July 31, all of which I spent at work. Even during my lunch, I stayed inside enjoying soup I hoped would chase away the cold I’m desperately trying to not get. Thanks to the pusher at work today who slipped me a Mucinex D. It was a glorious hour of medicine-head bliss, perhaps the best hour of my day.

Of all worthless endeavors, I have appointed myself Ambassador to Serendipity, compiling information and researching release dates for the entire series penned by Stephen Cosgrove and illustrated with doe-eyed critters by Robin James. To me, they epitomize childhood in a way and I’d like information to be more readily available. To that end, I am reading, rereading, and analyzing. Many of the books have been rewritten more recently, prompting comparison between original and revised editions. Every single book is either sappy or preachy, but in an excellent way. They represent purity and simplicity and messages children don’t often get in such straightforward ways. It might even be interesting to work on a book about the series, offering histories and information for each book, as well as memories of the books by those who enjoyed them as a piece of childhood like I did.

Stephen Cosgrove’s Website

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