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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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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)

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It seems like life is rushing by and not much is happening. I feel that way a lot; I’ve likely communicated that before. It is again true. And I am tired. All of the not doing anything makes me very tired. I always have more energy while I am doing more than I should, going daily to the gym and running all over God’s very white and grey Anchorage to drive friends to and from work. Those days lend life to the duller moments, creating pockets of creativity at home. Those are the days I long for.

I suspect that my readership is perhaps at a total of four people, all not-so-eagerly waiting to see what I will post next, but even so, those who look at this site will notice the dramatic change recently. I don’t think I like it nearly as much as I set out to, but it will work until I find a WordPress theme that is absolutely perfect for me. Honestly, I’ve found a number of perfect themes, but they are broken in some way or they are outdated and no longer customizable with newer versions of WordPress. That is all very unfortunate and has lead me to this ill-fitting theme, which is quite beautiful and dark, but does not exude Brian-ness. The lack of April postings is due to the repeated death of the site over March and April, but that problem has now been corrected. I am able to do more of what I want and the site has been upgraded to decrease the chances of a repeat explosion. For those of you who are unable or unwilling to look at the right side of your screen, I’ve included the picture I have used for this theme.

It is certainly clear that I have been busily writing. I’ve posted only a handful of the poems on here, as many of them are a bit more risque and I have chosen to not alienate those who have been previously offended by the things I post. There may soon appear a small section on this site labeled appropriately to keep innocent eyes away; their decision to investigate will not be my fault and they will only answer to themselves and me to myself for the outrage caused by what seem to me pure thoughts. Oh, the scandal you may be foreseeing!

I’ve come to a decision about my writing. I was simply keeping in practice with no clearly defined goal before. I would like to write a novel. I’ve been plotting it out and am looking forward to seeing what comes of this. It is a great undertaking for everyone who attempts it and I hope I can live up to my own expectations. While I will certainly continue posting poems and other writings here, I do not currently have any intention of offering up snippets of the novel for previewing. I will share in parts privately with a couple of people for specific reasons, but should I ever finish it, I will gladly share it with the world.

I suppose there is little more to say than that. A poem, which may erroneously sound like I have given up vegetarianism. I have not.Continue Reading

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{{first, let me just say thanks to Jennie. You are awesome. I am so glad you humored me in this weird request. I so wish our paths wouldn’t keep wandering off from one another.}}

Story: Cappuccino

“I don’t usually read those “I saw you” personals. I’ve always thought they were a little creepy. No offense.” Sam nods, indicating that no offense has been taken. “But I decided to scan through them for fun the other day, and there you were… looking for me.”

After a long pause, the two smile slowly at one another.

“I’m glad I found you,” Sam says. The waiters in the closed restaurant mill about, acting like they have more to do than they actually do. They are trying to make Chris & Sam aware that they closed almost an hour ago, which is finally dawning on the two. They have been gazing at one another, trying to recapture the magic of their chance encounter in the café. They aren’t finding exactly the same thing, but neither is particularly disappointed in this date. It has been going quite well in fact.

Chris has said all the right things, complementing when necessary and laughing at the right parts of the jokes. Sam has been attentive and doting, stressing the many excellent qualities that are so obvious. They are completely captivated by each other in this one amazing evening. Everything between these two seems perfect.

The attempts to usher the two lovers from the restaurant are becoming less subtle. There is increased urgency. The gazing soon moves out to the parking lot, where only two cars remain. The cars are next to one another in a strange coincidence. The two had met up inside, having come separately and not knowing what the other was driving. But there they were, side-by-side sedans. This makes both of them smirk a little.

“Would you like to grab a cup of coffee?” Sam asks hopefully.

“Yeah.”

The café where they had met is less than a quarter mile away and they decide to walk. They do this without much conversation, each analyzing the other’s mannerisms and imagining themselves happily married.

In the café, they both order a cappuccino. Sam’s heart races. The cappuccino started this love affair last Tuesday evening. It seems oddly important that the same drink has been ordered.

The two sit in a quiet corner. The café is relatively empty; it is late in the evening and the overnight crowd hasn’t started to show up yet. Both Chris and Sam are relieved that it isn’t as crowded as it can get. They want to talk.

Chris, being a little more talkative, nervously chatters about nothing in particular before deciding to share some background story. Sam learns about sisters and aunts and holidays at “Gram’s.” There is a mutual vision of sharing these things, even though the two have only recently met. Still listening intently to Sam, a smile slowly creeps across Sam’s face.

Sam prefers to not talk about family, as there is not much to tell. Having been alone for the majority of adult life, Sam has been searching for a family. Hopefully, Chris will satisfy this need. Instead of a family story, Sam talks about work. Chris is fascinated by the nuances of life in retail.

{okay, I created these characters and I just can’t get into them right now. I will update this one later. I also haven’t been able to determine the gender of either character. Perhaps it is better that they don’t have a specific one. It is more interesting to me that they could be either.}

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First, I hope everyone had a nice Easter weekend. I wish I had a sense of tradition for holidays. Not that my family doesn’t do holidays — we do. But I still don’t mind not having a celebration to attend or having family around. I’d much rather have my family around on a random Tuesday… we’d have dinner and talk late into the night about nothing in particular. I miss that.

“The man who doesn’t relax and hoot a few hoots voluntarily, now and then, is in great danger of hooting hoots and standing on his head for the edification of the pathologist and trained nurse, a little later on.”
–Elbert Hubbard

I have a headache. I’ve had it for about a week now. It is worse when I am at work or thinking about work. When I am at home, not thinking about it, I hardly notice it. I am extremely frustrated with the direction of my job and can’t seem to find a solution at the moment. Maybe there is no solution, but I am certainly not happy. It all feels so petty when I have to analyze it. Somehow, the concerns that drive me to tears while I am at the store seem so trivial when I am not there.

These are my complaints:
•Those hierarchically above me feeling entitled to whatever they want.
•Those same people complaining about having to work certain shifts, knowing that I write the schedules.
•All questions and concerns about the way the schedule is written requiring an impromptu meeting.
•Full-time employees planning work around their social lives instead of the other way around.
•Having more work to do than I can finish and receiving no help when I need it, even after requesting it.
•Bending the rules because certain employees are more “valuable” than others.
•Not having an outlet for venting frustrations.
•The things I do affecting people’s lives and others not understanding that.
•Having a supervisor who gives orders rather than working with me to get everything done.

I love my job. I really do. I like being entrusted with responsibility and am honored to be the person who makes so many decisions about the store. I feel perfect for the job, as I tend to have more patience than most and I am trustworthy. I know that my job will never be done; not only do I have to complete the same tasks every two weeks, but I also want to learn new things all the time and challenge myself to grow as a part of the company. That is difficult at the moment though. I feel like I can barely catch up enough to just get by.

I wanted to be a writer. I still do. But I feel like that is slipping further and further away, as I am in a line of work that requires a lot of work all day. Much of what I do is mental work, but that is just as taxing and I end up exhausted and disinterested by the time I get home. To calm down and resume the love of things I forget to enjoy requires me to spend a few hours with David or Heather just so I can collect my thoughts. Is my job getting in the way of my goals? I don’t want to believe that it is, but I am obviously not doing what I love to do as a result of what I need to do to pay the bills. And it barely does that.

Where am I going with this? I don’t really know. I don’t have a solution, as I have said. I don’t know if relieving some of the stress will fix the problem or not. I need the money I earn from working, but I need my dreams to be realized. How can I have both?

[Did I take a break from this blog? Not exactly. I have been so stressed out that I have been unable to focus on anything. I have done a lot of sleeping. I have done a little crying. I have been at David’s and at Heather’s. I have been escaping from my life through events rather than through the computer. It may be a loophole, but I am still using it Travis. Plus, I’ve been updating & adding poetry pages.]Continue Reading

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Writing:
This is what I wrote the other day at work (while not working!!!). I think I like them… I hope you all do too. I will try and post more poetry in the future, but on a different site. That way you will only get it if you want it! Let me know what you think of these.

Meghan’s DVDs

Staring at the overly-ordered shelves
I wish vacation had never ended and
long for the next one to begin

This excessive order often makes me angry
a kind of unnecessary anger over order
that I cannot create myself

Today it is a relief from the chaos
it might have been
and I know I should thank Meghan
(the girl ripped from an Italian fashion magazine)
this order is hers

For now I am still thinking about past and future
ventures away from here
longing to escape the present
and I am still mesmerized by the intensity
of uniformity
of unclutteredness
of space

7.15.2004

Six Thoughts On Being

I
I let myself get sunburned again,
like I do every year.
This is a lesson I may never learn.

II
How strange a new hole seems
when it’s tender and swollen.
And how difficult it is to not
have it filled once it has healed.

III
Turquoise makes me sad
because my grandmother is dead.

IV
It would have been nice to have
been Frank O’Hara — to have written
those things and to be remembered.
But I don’t own a typewriter and
I just realized that I am not sad.
And look! Words.

V
I need more Texas and more sleep
and I miss my mother, who I haven’t seen
in three months. I hate North Carolina.

VI
I want something beautiful
tattooed on my arm
and I want a joint.
I want the sweetness
of something intoxicating
to fill my lungs
and make me feel alive.
Even now I can taste
that distant memory
and crave it.

7.15.2004

Money:
Yeah, so I have been purchasing too much (as usual). How many t-shirts do I really need? I just bought 8 and I bought 6ish before my vacation last week!!! Good Lord, I am an idiot.

Work:
I very much get frustrated by being a manager. There are some awesome people that I would like to hang out with, but can’t because they are my employees (Meghan, Jill, Sarah…)… damn. Oh well… It is weird because I am usually so okay with it. Blah!

Friends:
I have the best friends ever! Yay.Continue Reading

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untitled [100 days]

It’s been one hundred days
and if feels like it all happened
just this morning.
I’m starting to realize she’s gone –
finally missing her and ultimately
knowing I can never see her again.

I hate that morning –
when Mimi died.
Loneliness overtook me and
pain was invited in.
All I needed was a hug
from Bettina, JD, Travis, Becky,
Mom — but they weren’t there.
I’m cold inside and sad.
I miss her.

6.18.2002