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Meeting Skylar & Wesleyan at the Grey Gardens Disco

Secrets feel more like friends than flesh,

written on the tightly rolled scrolls and tied loosely with a scrap of string.
These are the days when life is slipping past so quickly that I cannot seem to find a way back to it, a way to engage. I want to write my own secrets on tiny scrolls, but their contents would drive away even those I’m barely clinging to and they’d slip further into the torrent
away from me.

Time has been cruel, much more than I could have expected.

Mine will be the story that goes untold, unrecorded, unremembered.
Inaction fuels inaction and so I do not move, do not move, do not move. There are lives happening, I’ve been told, beyond the threshold I’m so afraid to cross. The moments I should’ve had hold me back, keep me wondering, force me into the safety of my empty bed
where the quiet loneliness can comfort me.

After the house has filled with leaves and dust and snow,

beyond the carefully orchestrated solitude, celebrations go on without me.
The most beautiful hear the music within themselves, gaily swinging auburn hair and laughing at their own unfunny puns. Merriment and giddiness come on like migraines and I find myself waving a flag and dancing joyously, still unable to coax myself from my home.
Happiness feels so foreign.

Ugliness greets me in every mirror, an old addictive friend

and the voids I’ve created have grown to feel comfortable on my miserable soul.
I’ve failed to learn the steps, and I am terrified that the dance will go on with out me. I look at the hollowness of the collected things around me, dismayed that I’ve become this me. This is the me that will keep happiness in its place
far away.

Nothing excuses knowing about leopard print,

a secret that seems to have allowed me to let go of ill-advised longings.
How incredibly sad it is to not find me so alluring that you can see past my plentiful flaws. I have known for quite some time that if I live my life alone, dying before I know love, that it is not me who is to blame, although I understand the temptation. It is others
who fail to see how happy I would make them.

Could these children have caused my empty world’s destruction?

set in motion events that will cause this tomb around me to collapse.
It’s too soon to know, but I welcome the crumbling. My stacks of nonsense are poised to fall into a blissful abyss. Oh, what exquisite joy I know I will feel when the rooms are all empty and there is just me to fill the space.
And someone to help me fill it, I hope.

Hope, indeed. It is all that keeps me from dropping into the crevasse myself,

cementing my loneliness forever with my inability to change.
I’ve begun to remember who I used to be and have found people who make me hate myself less and less every moment. But not even their patience can be endless, so if I am not to miss out on the Brian I’ve been trying to become again, I need to ask fast
and meet my friends for a drink.

Notes

Written 2 December 2012 in Anchorage, Alaska.

Brian Fuchs, “Meeting Skylar & Wesleyan at the Grey Gardens Disco” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

Formatting on WordPress ended up looking a little off, but this was as close as I could get it.  The first lines of the stanzas shouldn’t be separated, but indenting a line requires making a new paragraph.  If I figure out how to change that, I will.

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I’ve always felt solitary. Not alone, not always lonely, but content to just be with myself. But I need the company of loved ones more often than I remember and the lack of such company makes keeping my head up an arduous endeavor. I certainly don’t take joy in sounding miserable when all indications are that I am rather happy, but I am not as satisfied with my life as I could be.

I’ve felt hurt by the rather unintentional acts of both of my close friends in Alaska. And while it has been easy to point to them as the cause of my hurt, it has been dishonest on my part. They have been living quite happy lives, lives I am so happy that each of them has found. If I were faced with a life filled with someone to give all this love to, I too might become rather inconsiderate of the feelings of mere friends. But that knowledge does not mitigate the emotional pain. They are not responsible for my perpetual bachelorhood and I don’t fault them for their happiness. It can be difficult to realize that I don’t sit at the center of other people’s worlds.

Existential crises are becoming common. Friends tend to distract me enough to not over think what it means to be me. Forgive my depressed ramblings and heavy heart. I just feel alone sometimes and I just want someone else to know about it. I’m fine; I always am.

Featured Image Art: AI Image (created using StarryAI)

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Cold Betrayal
on being stranded in Alaska

January had been full of
animal dinners and parties
when sadness was setting in
and Lori left suddenly after
and exchange of anger-charged words

I was lost during those cold weeks
that followed and couldn’t keep up
Life rushed by and stood still

I know about the carefully discarded
cigarette butts in bottles of soda
and the mornings of coffee and romance
empty mornings and safe

I had days when I didn’t eat
that spring and the cheap dinners
of tasteless noodles seemed
heavenly after

The pain doesn’t last and Justin
stayed with me until I wasn’t unhappy
anymore which was a long time
Then he went home to his life and
left me to forge my new life from
this strange place

Sometimes I want to forget Lori’s face
but I keep getting it stuck in my head
I had a dream with hundreds of hens
flocking around me and
they all screamed Lori’s name
and I realized that I still love her

despite not being able to hold on enough
to keep her near me
I am floating above this frozen place
this city of refugees lumped together
from many corners of other places

I don’t care anymore about knowing about the
coffee and the cigarettes and the novels
it doesn’t matter that people are happy when
I can’t decide what would make me happy
but I wish the hens would stop reminding me

Brian Fuchs 2 April 2007

I don’t know where I intended to go with this. It feels unfinished somehow. Maybe such emotional things are more difficult to write about than trivial bits of life. I don’t really know. I do know that this wouldn’t even have been written if it hadn’t been for Travis, who kindly reminded me that a writer writes… everday. Thank you, Travis.

It is sometimes hard for me to keep up with anything routine. I am just wired to forget, but I really appreciate anyone who gives me new material, reminds me to write, or inquires about my writing. It is one of the important things in my life and knowing others care is a big part of keeping with it. I have been less successful with it in the past, but I do intend to keep up here. With that said, anyone who reads should feel free to nag me endlessly if it seems I am not keeping up with this.

If Lori reads this (or any of Lori’s peeps), I hope it is understood that I don’t harbor any hard feelings. I was thinking about her today, as it is her birthday and remembered the feeling of her not being around when it was still new for me. I wish Lori the best and hope she has a great birthday today.

Featured Image Art: Artem Misyuk, Illustrations to the collection of poems by Borovets A (6)

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I am officially over being sad. That’s right, over it. Where has all this sadness gotten me? Tired, fat, unmotivated, uninteresting, bitchy, unfriendly, & bored. I have had it up to here (holding hand up to non-specific head part) with this crap!

I recently told a friend that I was sorry she had to see the me she sees because the one inside is so different. It was misconstrued, but easily. What I meant by that is that regardless of this outward façade, I am a very different person inside. My moods are different, my emotions are different, and yes, my body is different. There is nothing wrong with the way I look, but it isn’t reflective of the real me. I wish people could see the person I know, because that one is who I feel I am. I am sorry that they must settle for this imposter.

So, what am I doing about this? Anyone who has known me for any longer than 5 minutes knows that I lose track of things… forget to do routine tasks. I am famous for losing focus and being often lost out on a far tangent, too stretched away from the point to recover. This is my fatal flaw. But I can do it. It just requires that I write it down. If I can write these things out for a long enough time, I will encompass that next day when I feel motivated to do it again, thereby ensuring that I continue to do these whatevers. But it makes me feel terribly nerdy to refer to lists and schedules in my personal life to accomplish mundane tasks.

Vanity must die.

So, I’ve made the pact with myself. I have gathered advice from the few who were privileged with insights into my deterioration. I am determined to become a new me. Two weeks from now, this pact could be all but forgotten, but at the moment I really want to do this. We’ll see where this all takes me.

Thanks to everyone for being so kind. My life is full of the most generous people I have ever known and I appreciate every one of you.

Featured Image Art: Kenojuak Ashevak, “Displaying Feathers”

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Two things have been bugging me for the past few days. First, Lori. Yes, I know — this drama is tired and I need to stop dwelling on it. In an effort to make clear what I feel, I have posted the lyrics to both of my “Lori songs” (both by Scissor Sisters). The first, Mary, is the way I felt when Lori was still around. It was the relationship we had. I miss that time. The second, Almost Sorry, is the way I feel about Lori now. It is darker and cynical and fairly accurate about the anger I have built up.

The other thing bugging me is the death of the real Mary (from the song). Having never known the woman, hearing that she died was very sad to me.

Mary

I love the tone that’s in your laugh
Gasping for an extra breath
Waiting for the time to pass
I believe in days ahead
Don’t spend another night alone
Cross and wishing you were dead.

Mary, you shouldn’t let them make you mad
You hold the best you can
And Mary, after all the pain is gone
I’m always gonna live to be your man.

I’ve had it easy now you see
When I’m down you’re always there
Standing by to comfort me
Someday we’ll go round the world
I’ll make the journey so sublime
I know you’re not a travelin’ girl.

Mary, you shouldn’t let ’em make you mad
You hold the best you can
And Mary, after all the pain is gone
I’m always gonna live to be your man.

Cause I’d give everything I have
Forget all the things that bring me joy
If you could have one day of
Pure and simple happiness
Until that moment comes
I’ll be here where I’ve always been
I’m gonna be your friend
Until the day I die.

Mary, you shouldn’t let ’em make you mad
You hold the best you can
And Mary, after all the pain is gone
I’m always gonna live to be your man.

Almost Sorry

if anyone was headed for the gates of hell i knew you’d be first
i used to picture your obituary and i wished you the worst
the danger of the playground
the radio said you drowned
and i’m sorry
almost
almost sorry

no sympathy is given to the perpetrator charged with the crime
im willing to admit that it feels good to be a victim sometimes
and i wont ever get to thank you for the terrible things you said
’cause i’m sorry
almost
that you’re dead to the world
where i hoped you would be
never imagined you’d live on in me
you gave me destination but i paid for the ride
the place you punched my ticket left a crater inside
where i cried (he cried)
where i cried (you died)

where i cried from the bruises
learned to live with the scars
now you live in the mirror
when i look there you are
you’re the shadow on the faces of the people i meet
have you claimed eternal shotgun in my passenger seat
well i’m sorry
almost
almost sorry

sometimes the best design is done by damage
the accident can cease
the rainbow still looks pretty when it bleeds

Featured Image Art: illustration of a Faerie Kacheek (Neopets)

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Alas, my socks don’t match today. My belt is black; my shoes are brown. Even my left hand seems larger than my right. As I drove to work this morning, the colors seemed so intense and distant and nothing felt real. I am out of sorts. I am trapped in a little bubble and everything is a little distorted as I look out at the world. I’m not sure why this is, but stress seems to be the safest bet.

I’ve recently discovered what the pain of homesickness feels like and I don’t really care for it. I was putting together my photo album, as I do when the sequence of events needs to be altered to represent who I am now, when I felt an ever increasing ache in my entire being. With no other warning, I began to cry. I have tested my limits and discovered my true breaking point. It seems that nine months is too long to be away from my loved ones. Rather like birth. Nine months was enough and I had to emerge and meet my family. Now I feel that again.

It isn’t just homesickness. Everything from home has been negative. Everything. A close friend of my mom is dying. Mom isn’t doing well with that. Stan isn’t doing well. And financially, everyone is suffering like never before. Individually, we are all used to being pennyless, but simultaneous draining of our monies has created quite a problem. I am already essentially homeless, but now my parents might end up that way as well. It is hard to deal with everything being so far away, but I just keep praying that everything will be okay.

I haven’t been a model human being lately. I have a good heart and I mean well, but that can only get you so far in this life. My lack of attention to what seem to be important things in life has really added to the hole I continue to dig for myself. My brain just won’t work correctly. I find that music is the only thing that can keep me focused, which is likely the reason I love it so much. I can actually think about something rather than thinking about everything.

This is all depressing and I am not really sad at all. I actually feel blessed to be here on this planet at this moment in time. It feels right. Life is interesting. I never thought my path would include excursions to far away places — and certainly not for the length of time that it has, but I am glad that it has. I am also fascinated that people I meet seem to fill holes in my life I didn’t even realize I had. It is as though I was meant to meet them… meant to know them. My destiny seems to be working itself into fruition. I guess everyone realizes what life means for them at a certain point in life. For me, that hasn’t really happened. yet, but the picture is becoming increasingly clear. Life isn’t fuzzy like is once was. Well, that isn’t exactly true. Maybe life is a little less fuzzy.

Incidentally, I have been slowly introducing Asian foods into my pantry. I am really enjoying curries & noodles & such. Plus, food at Asian markets is super cheap.

Images: photo of LaDonna & Curtis Fuchs; photo of Brian, Brent, & Bradley Fuchs

Featured Image Art: vintage map of Indian Territory

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I have been feverishly trying to define myself. I have actually been doing a lot of non-Brian activities lately. I have a need to figure out what religion I am most aligned with… I don’t know why I have this need to define myself. I am usually satisfied with my beliefs being what they are and not needing to lock them into a pre-defined set of… whatevers. But I somehow need to know. I have discovered that I rest somewhere happily between non-Baptist protostant Christianity, Hinduism, & Judaism. Somehow, that makes sense finding that out. But I don’t know what to do with that information either. I went on this quest mainly to answer the question when asked, but I am no closer to doing that. The honest answer is confusing to most.

Meanwhile, the condo is not sold… I have made plans to visit Oklahoma in October… Work is good… Heather has a birthday soon… I got my invite to Dorothy & Sean’s wedding… I have been unsettlingly homesick… I am still broke… my tattoo design is not yet completed… Ashley & I are going to the fair next weeked and then she is taking me out to a glacier the following week… and life goes on.

I will include some things I have written soon. I have been at it again, which really means I have been a bit depressed. No worries though; depression is the only means to my self expression. My creative self will now be allowed out for a breath.

I miss the weirdest things.

Featured Image Art: Oswald Völkel, “The Sacred Heart of Jesus”; painting of Ganesha (unknown artist)