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I think the previously posted poem Hiking At Kennicott will either will be edited to be shorter or fleshed out to be an essay. I like it, but it is almost begging to be prose. I find myself rather blocked this week. Perhaps it has been the turmoil this past week seems to be in. Things are in disarray. It causes me to not want to face myself and I slink into my corner and pretend I don’t want to write. In reality, nothing would bring me greater joy in difficult times. Facing myself always seems to convince me that I like me more than I thought and still troubles me because I don’t understand how I can still be alone. I’m feeling rather desperate to have what those around me have and desperation causes foolishness. I hope I can keep the antics at bay. In the meantime, I’ll risk a poem on here that could potentially offend those mentioned in it. It is about three people I love a great deal — a family of sorts. Like all families, it is the quirks of individuals that sometimes receive the focus. It rarely means that those quirky people are thought of any less.Continue Reading

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I got out of Anchorage for nearly three days. David, Daniel, Denis, & I took a trip to McCarthy & Kennecott in the Copper River Basin. Kennecott is an old mining town that was abandoned in 1938. The trip was beautiful, therapeutic, and well-deserved by all of us.

Honestly, I imagined great tension and possible distance on our return, but the four of us play very well off one another and if I can get over my jealousy that the other three live in two adjacent houses far from me, I think we’ll continue to have a strong relationship.

I’m not a nature person… so I say, but I do really enjoy getting out and doing things like this trip. I mainly say these things about not being a nature person to prevent people from inviting me on adventures that I can resent them for going on later. I should see someone about that, but for now I will just admit it and try to deal with it. I seem to be all too willing to sabotage my own happiness. Curious. I think getting a little nature all over me was good.

My pictures will be around soon. Too tired to care tonight.Continue Reading

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10th & Cordova

I’m working on feeling unconventional
in a world of unconventional people.
I’m melding with others,
with those whose lives barely cross mine,
I am again like a loose bit
dangling from a ragged tree branch.
And I feel love. Love.
Quantified love. Finite and sequenced love.
Quantified?
I know I’m last. The love left is different,
the love is coated with a sticky doubt.
Denis is made up in shades of green,
needlessly feeding himself pain, gorging himself on his own thoughts.
His love is ranked, ordered, defined by hierarchy.
Denis uses his love to feel closeness,
and he wraps that love in money. Family.
Quantified? Finite?
David makes diplomatic concessions,
talks in circles and understanding tones, tries to hold together
things that aren’t in danger of slipping away.
He spends his time adding on to the structures, stroking egos,
helping Denis find even brighter green vestments.
I can’t even seem to get attention from myself.
Love? Love. It’s possible.
Expanding, filling the room, I feel uncomfortable
and take up too much space. How can I be ignored?
Sometimes I deflate the elephant and shrink to almost nothing,
transparent.
I shrink into a corner and watch my family below grow ever closer
without me, saddened by my own inability to include myself.
Daniel has come in, found David, taken him down a path I cannot see.
The fields of sweetly scented flowers cover the trail.
There is an increased interest in green.
I try to figure out how to be seen,
how to understand quantified love.
Denis longs to not be green, but I only know about this too late,
after I have purchased green tinted glasses that I wear when I look at him.
David and Daniel playing in the flowers makes me
simultaneously happy and enraged.
Enraged at me, at my ignorance, at how insufferable I’ve become.
Daniel brings back flowers and shares them with me,
and I am happy enough. Family.
Quantified? No.
David keeps tabs on the situation, sometimes,
very occasionally checking to see how I’m doing.
It’s easiest when he speaks about Daniel, about secrets and sex,
about the fields of flowers down the path.
I feel happy when he mentions Daniel, free.
The cracks are forming, and we are all distracted with our efforts.
I’ll soon need to purchase another pair of glasses, this time in rose.

Notes

Written 14 June 2008 in McCarthy, Alaska. Revised 1 October 2018 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “10th & Cordova” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)Continue Reading

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Before Kennicott

Even before it begins, I want the end
Age has made me inflexible and cantankerous
I don’t want to live in the moment
don’t want to live
don’t want
don’t

I beg forgiveness for being inflexible and cantankerous
Waiting, sitting, forgetting why I agreed to do this
Sigh
I’m over heartache and jealousy
Clichés
I can see happiness in front of me, my arms outstretched
It is simple to vacation and so hard,
busy people all frantic about different things
personalities that barely mesh in the relative ease of our daily lives

I feel my rage staying near the surface
ready to explode at any moment and I hope I can suppress it long enough
and then scream into my pillow later
They’ve never seen my rage
I don’t like it
I feel like a child
Spoiled, inflexible
Things should stay as they are
As they are
Not quite
Not this
As they are
As I am
Inflexible
Cantankerous
Impatient

We’ll find ourselves soon at a lodge
a disappointment to my urban sensibilities
to my immaturity
and I’ll feel ashamed to not be more connected to nature
or Nature
Connected to the universe
I am clichés
waiting for a beginning I want to end
longing for moments I fail to experience
I’m waiting
and Daniel is sleeping

Written 13 June 2008 in Anchorage, Alaska.  Revised 1 October 2018 in Glencoe, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Before Kennicott” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)Continue Reading

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Elton was amazing. The whole experience was surreal as it never dawned on me that I would actually get to see Elton John… I mean, I understood the concept, but when it was actually happening I was transported somewhere wonderful. I regretted that David was not sitting next to Daniel, who was in the row behind us with his parents, but somehow that seemed nice too. Daniel and his mom really seemed to enjoy one another at the concert.

And yes, I cried a little. It just wouldn’t stay in. There were others who cried too, but I think I’m not supposed to mention it. Oh well.

This month has been great for events. While Elton was certainly the superstar of them — and indeed the biggest star I’ve seen in concert — the others are still worth mentioning. May started with Margaret Cho, which was so much fun… fantastically dirty. I almost feel bad saying so, but it was nice to attend an event surrounded by other gay men. There is something comforting about being around gay men, even when they are trashing you behind your back (and they are). At work, we had several big authors, which gets me as excited, if not more, as other celebrities. Seth Kantner, author of Ordinary Wolves, was in last night to discuss his new book and sign. I felt honored by getting to hear from such a successful writer. Sue Henry, Alaskan mystery novelist, was in last week. Her event was small and not promoted, but the intimate setting was nice and allowed for more of a group discussion on writing rather than a talk about her newest book. Her books sell well all over the country. Although I was not there, John Dean, former White House counsel who was convicted of multiple felonies for his involvement in Watergate, was in on Sunday to sign copies of his books. It was a last minute appearance, but drew a crowd I hear.

I loved being out and about in Anchorage tonight, but somehow still managed to feel out of place. I clearly have some issues to work on. Don’t I always.

If you ever have a chance to see Elton John, do it. It is worth the price of the ticket. And a thousand thank-yous to Daniel, who camped out at Sullivan Arena for 24 hours to get tickets for everyone. It takes a really great person to do that.

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Here you go Jess. This is the CD I wrote on. The only pen I had was a green micro sharpie. It took me some time because I thought I’d thrown it out. I have restocked my car with the appropriate writing tools.

My glasses broke today. That is not completely accurate. I broke my glasses today. There was a hair stuck in them, so I popped the lens out (which I do from time to time) and they snapped. They had gotten pretty old, so it is hardly a tragedy. I’ve ordered more, which are much more girly, but I’m hardly the model of masculinity.

I’ve spent FAR too much time making little books with my new printer. I’m trying to carefully select things I’ve written to send to my parents. Really, I seem to be looking for any excuse to not work on things that need to be worked on.

My coworker Alicia is going to help with some booklists. I’m unclear about it all right now, but it sounds like a plan… well, almost. I know I want to list the best of the certain subjects, not just have long lists of books. They really have to have been great to make the list. It is sounding like a lot of work. We’ll see what happens. I just find that looking up certain subjects (things I want to read) can be hard because there don’t seem to be good resources out there for some subjects.

Okay, that was rather long winded for having said nothing.

Alone, Alaska

The pumpkin is covered in snow;
I’ve found myself taking refuge
on the crowded velvet cushion,
I could stand here, waiting
for the snow to melt,
hiding in a corner alone.
At least I would find the quiet I was looking for.
Solitude makes me feel closer to nature,
but I don’t feel like being closer just now.
The cold has forgotten to lift from here
and my heart has grown fond of snow and ice,
the very elements that have removed
me from my quiet repose.
I look forward to meditation and calm,
to sitting on the lawn,
overgrown with dandelions,
beautiful blooms making me
close my eyes and feel God within me.
For now, I’ll take what I can get,
taking life from the faces of people
around me; weaving that life into lines of words.
Oh solace, elusively greeting me,
ready with this world still hard
from the months of frozenness.
And I feel the power of this place
in ways that change with seasons,
feel the huddling masses,
each individual finding a way to self,
all of us alone in this together,
penguins of the North,
tightly packed for warmth,
but barely knowing our neighbors.

5.20.2008

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Oil Man

In secret places I’ve longed to revisit,
he adds new people to his life and the closeness we never had fades in the sad recesses of time. I’ve been forgotten and replaced.
Hidden away in shadowy restaurants, places I was shown the ways I wanted to be loved, new faces grace tables with conversations that are familiar, the responses changing — improving.
I’ve regretted not finding him again and not loving him enough (not loving him in ways I wanted to and could have).
It is a life I gave up to be someone I grew to hate; a life never offered, but hovering over our friendship.
We traveled to the West, to passions we didn’t share, for a weekend that would change who we had been.
I remember how I longed for something more, not only from him, but from me and how I felt the presence of our fear in the room, breathing deeply and making us sad.
I wish he were here, forgiving me, showing me that love still exists for me in his heart. I want him to kiss me, but still afraid, I’d wish it were a hug.
There are times of mistakes, times that cannot be summoned to this present with all the power of my heart… times that I miss.
But scattering the bones of lives I wanted to live across infinity makes the present sad. I need to hold on and keep them close, reminders of motives that make me who I am.

Notes

Written 19 May 2008 in Anchorage, Alaska.

Brian Fuchs, “Oil Man” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)