Archive for random
Aug
25
on denial and creating the most powerful of truths
I saved all of my visitor passes. They are stuck to in the last page of my notebook. Inevitably, they are carried with me every where. At first, I thought, how grim. Then I thought, how pretentious. Now I think, it’s really for the best.
It was so easy to look past the erratic behavior and the disappearances. I was too quick to forgive the months dry of physical attention. It was easy to open up the box, put all of those middling doubts right in there and put the pad lock on it. Until that one day when he decided that the best place to walk to while black out drunk, in the midst of a psychotic break, bleeding, was from his place to mine, some 5 miles to the north. What can you do then?
I didn’t want to abandon him, but I knew after the first visit to the substance abuse ward at Bellevue that there was nothing there to hold on to. That the entirety of our short relationship had been built on the flimsiest of fabricated pasts. Less eloquently, I had been lied to. Repeatedly. Now I was forced into this situation where I had to be deceptive and I had to hide while I decided just what the fuck to do. Over the course of four visits, I know, four visits were far more than I should have indulged, but deep down, I’m a softie.
I finally had enough of the manipulative phone calls and questions about my cat. The fourth day I visited. I was trapped in the dim yet too bright flicker of fluorescent lights with a young girl with her obviously uncomfortable father and me with my sluggish and giant boyfriend. We were trapped because of the screams and shouts of the profane coming from the ward. A new intake patient had arrived and could not be subdued. He was placed in the “seclusion” room which happened to be right next to the “visitors room” (nee cafeteria). So, now are stilted conversations were punctuated with screams and thuds as he slammed his body into the walls. That along with the deep breathing of the older man who did not want to be there was the soundtrack as I realized that I didn’t want this to be my problem. Ever.
Maybe it was the drugs that they had him on, but I cried more than he did. I had the liberating experience of New York’s public privacy as I sobbed the L train ride home with no one bother to ask me if I was ok. I was grateful. There was no way I could have held it in and once it was done, it was. There were no more tears after that just a guilt. A guilt that gradually subsided. It wasn’t my fault or my responsibility. I wasn’t absolved, I would never do that to myself, but I was at least forgiven.
Sep
2
stats 09/02/09
seems like a good time to resume this project, but maybe with slightly different metrics and codes.
139 minutes spent procrastinating and looking at pictures online of people that are better left out of my mind.
ran 5.13 miles
been drying out a bit since there is nothing non alcoholic to drink in Germany. i think even the water is vodka.
ate 2 hard boiled eggs and a honey waffle thing, some veggie salad and pita chips.
i seem to have transitioned from very awesome to very boring over the course of a 12 hour flight or it is just the jet lag still talking.
Jul
31
on the searchable life
why are the results returning 1-20 of hundreds? It hasn’t been that long. Or its always been.
Jul
20
a formal feeling comes
Now. There’s been some space. My fear has subsided, my guilt is transformed into anger and that anger dissipated into disappointment.
A man followed me into my apartment vestibule early Sunday morning. The front door had been broken and hadn’t been locking properly for months. It works now, but that makes no difference because you can’t change the future. He could have done so much worse than grab me, take my phone and all of my money. Only about $120 dollars. Coming home from a night out, he’s lucky I even had that.
I called the police from an old cell phone. This all sounds so collected now, but at the time, I almost didn’t know what was going on. The 911 operator stayed on the phone with me until I was with the police. They then put me in the back of the squad car, still in my party dress and heels, clutching this busted cell phone with out of date of numbers and my house keys.
A flock of police had descended onto my neighborhood detaining every young looking black man that was out on the street at sometime between 3:30am and 4am. The drove me around and had me look at the men that they had detained. None of them were the man that had robbed me. It was after the second man, that I finally started crying in the back of the car.
They put me in another car, unmarked, and we went around and looked a two or three more men. Still none of them were the man. I felt so guilty that these men had done nothing wrong, other than be the wrong color out on the street at the wrong time. I felt guilty and responsible and horrified and terrified.
At the precinct on Elizabeth street, one of the oldest in the city, I sat in a dingy room with a man filing reports and intermittently falling asleep with loud snores waiting to fill out the police report. I called every number that might be viable in my phone, but no one picked up. I talked to two cops and then a detective. I looked at mug shots until my head was aching, the sun was coming up and the faces all looked the same.
They brought me home and let me stand on the side walk, shivering in that stupid dress while the evidence technician took finger prints. I did not need to be standing there for that. I went upstairs finally to make some eggs with spinach. I fell into an uneasy sleep that only lasted about 3 hours. It was riddled with random dreams, irrationalities and anxieties. I was lucky to have a friend to stay with me that night. A presence that was just so welcome and such a distraction. It was so important.
The next day, Manhattan looked so much better from the outside looking at her from Liberty Island.
Jul
16
a simple pleasure
i love the feeling of soap suds as they run down my bare back before i rinse them. it’s like a long light caress.
Jul
16
stats
up 7:20 begrudgingly.
once again running on a not so stellar 4 hours of sleep.
ran 5.18 miles
worked on songs, stylings and trying be smilings.
Jul
15
stats
7:30 out of bed, a place i can’t seem to stand right now, yet don’t want to leave.
ran 5.25 miles
Jul
14
stats
slept in in complete exhaustion until 10:30 and laid around until just before noon
went on a boat, went on a trek, went on the stairs until i almost couldn’t see you there
changed the sheets because they were wet with night sweat and tears
worked it out
Jul
13
stats
lost hours and hours to worry, fear, anxiety and lack of sleep
lost: some faith, an iphone, about $120, some dignity, a little love, some hearing
found: renewed respect for existence, a new shirt, that loud sounds dull the brain among other things
saw 5 bands 1 day: ponytail, f*cked up, mission of burma, future of the left and one more random band at k and m
considered leaving
Jul
12
stats
up 10ish
ate dim sum like there was no tomorrow, which at the time i didn’t realize that there may not have been
baked a storm, a whirlwind of chocolate and flours around my kitchen
ate and drank and danced to bacchanalian proportions
fell to the dogs
