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solstice: Watching Garbage Trucks | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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›comments[0] ›all comments ›post #603 ›bio: kristen ›perma-link ›1/25/2025 ›09:11 ›archives ›first post ›that week
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and I'm hecka into a deep dive of the Donner party. I let the orange cat sleep with me last night. he climbed on my bedroom window and screamed. I was remembering when I was young in 2003 and thought I was so hot - if only.... such a secret - so untapped. gag. we lived in two rooms in los Feliz, and I felt a lot closer to the adjacent little Armenia. god that was a hard time. could you imagine? alone coming down from crazy wife working a million hours new town I always say it was yoga that saved my life there - taking a yoga class made me feel less ashamed as a human being and start to feel alive again. at the time, she was so important the former accountant yoga studio owner, and of course now I don't remember her name. finding a mate. finding a ox yoke partner I keep reading or once read about how Atlantis was struck down because they did perversions to animals. people always forget that we are animals too. would we implant a baby cow with numbing agents so they can just grow up to be our meat? it makes my heart hurt and makes me not want to be on this earth contributing to the hunger for this flesh. as I am comfortably numb and watch YouTubes of the Donner party I think of 2003 before social media - when you were alone except the phone and even texting was something that wasn't done. I would walk to the los Feliz library between my dog walking gigs and I would check out all the Babylon 5 DVDs and watch them during the day. sometimes I would drink margaritas. always I would be ashamed. I wonder if I was hot? I always collect the compliments I hear about me as I never even suspected I might be pretty until I was 17 but that lady who said I had the "it" to be an actress - just needed to lose a few poundages. does that matter now? it's time. I'm almost on the black (no more bleeding ) team while the red runs out. Today is a weekend. it is different than yesterday as yesterday was a work day and I had to listen for the bell. stanley Hastings and mr. bridges seem understandable scoundrels, and their need to make more money killed people. I can't even imagine the time I have a beautiful fox in my trap and have to kill him for food. I'm not sure how I would do that. you think about the time they were getting camp set up by firelight and chopping wood and the axe handle flew off never to be seen again - and it was their only axe. I need to understand how lucky I am now. I have not yet ever romanticized any time in my life that was not attached to a man I love. I do not romanticize the edelon year or the married guy. that was a time even in the moment I was like "how low are you going to go here? this is self-hatred".... but there was an equivalent in my life before - I had this terrible human named Tim who stole my mother's bike. the one I had stolen first. Speaking of stolen, JoJo is the nicest cat to sleep with. he is never in my way and always very communicative - like he'll purr when I ask where he is or he'll peep when I touch him to either pet or accidentally. So, I guess I was hot shit as a younger chick, oh well. them daze is gonski . a shift. now I will be in what I told myself I was always preparing: character and old age. I had seen them chasing beauty and youth and it was like the green paper - I was like "note to self..." now, sitting in the drowning tumbles of your mistakes. --- she didn't know she'd adore this time in twenty-three years, and she wasn't aware of the song "kids" by mgmt until she was well nearer that. "you were a child crawling on your knees towards it." the sun set in this Los Angeles apartment so vividly it was like being pierced. there were two rooms with which to go crazy through. She was in such free fall it astounds the writer that she didn't beg for therapy, yet she understands - the actor did not want to be labeled any more. she was taking pills and wanted to be normal like the other kids. she could be very stubborn. her husband who she had cheated on with a boy she had met in advanced bio at UNCW was gone all the time and always distant when he was home. they got drunk and went out to eat a lot. She was a pariah and free to invent herself into anything she wanted to in the new world. LA LA she wrote a horrible screenplay, went to yoga classes, and eventually went to therapy when her artist boss recommended someone. but at this moment, she was walking into the apartment from a yoga class where she was able to not think about her brain meanderings for long moments at a time - and Kelly was the name of the proprietress of the yoga shoppe. and she had a Babylon 5 episode that was a parable of the earth she lived on to watch. she and her husband were so alone, and these rare humans would finally be divorced after many painful weekends. he had been her best friend on planet. He had been base. She had been gone since the wagon left - she had left a part of her soul in the old town. she can't remember the last time she ever saw him, but it might have been when he came by her gallery job in Venice with the divorce papers to sign. she talked to him on the phone so much after the divorce that the physical seeing wasn't so acute. She remembers when she finally had gone into exile in Georgia #1 - she was talking to him from the front porch no doubt smoking an American spirt cigarette. He asked her to stop telling him how sorry she was. She tried to listen, and she always felt so sorry. even now, she could cry about it y'all. she had always been bemused by that house as she'd only cooked one thing in the oven, but it made a terrible mess. she remembers listening to that one song by wilco and typing into her computer and looking at her reflection in the sliding glass windows of her office with Oscar Wilde and other photos... and the world map. this was life after divorces. it's as if she wrote a script. and went by it. in this now neighborhood, she got a good view of many trees. for that she was grateful. it wasn't what the singer sang so much in the 2003 mgmt clip, it was the puppy innocence captured and the feeling she loved seeing so much - comeraderie of artists flying their freak flags high. it made her immediately go to Athens and reed hall. it was fun to have Kent connected to that. (she had changed her entire life around Kent). She remembered that dream that even thinking about the existence of gave her panic attacks in Oakland - "that dream of going into the car and the door slamming shut behind me and seeing The Ancient guardians of the escape and the spider webs and knowing I would have to sit down and try not to hyperventilate - I was trapped. " "I know you don't believe me, but I was with you the whole time and am so excited to be with you on this planet." "I so don't believe you, and I so want to. It's awesome to imagine not really really being alone." the orange cat was apparently allowed in today. she needed to interject a "not all the time" vibe. the orange cat seems to try so hard to be good. "I guess Justine Bateman can be a good role model for aging women - she and paulina." "or maybe Isabella" "Is it really that simple? attract mate - step one - step two - a slew of compromises - step three - someone will love you and watch you die or watch you watch them die." she drinks tea and tries very hard to accept her place. it sometimes runs hard to properly stop an existential story chapter. "this time last year, I was in Oakland and trying to survive feeling so fucking scared and alone. it always feels like it's the worst time you've ever had in your life and was sometimes helpful to recall that it had been this way in spades before." The background of her screen was the maple tree from her time before Wilmington visit - the good one. "what are you trying to do now? what does this remind you of?" "funny you should ask. this reminds me exactly of the time I was living in long walk distance of my mom after my first marriage fell apart and I collapsed right along with it. I still remember the realization when I was in the house in the woods by the pond - I called it walken pond years - and that time I was driving back to it - driving 'home' I guess I remembered that this is exactly what I had wanted - a place to live in solitude with trees. Now, I'm trying to figure out what it means to be in a repeat cycle and what different choices I can make this time to guide myself into a happy outcome." "why?" "it's all bullshit anyway. what I'm trying to do now is to persuade you to talk with me and dance and drink mead by the firelight under stars and moons." "really talk?" "well, you know what I mean - communicate." "am I interchangeable" you're a voice in my head - something with which to play. so you don't go too mad. there an ending. (but only because you love the adrenaline of going to pop the top on that message in a bottle) x [more] - the sky was that perfect crystal saturated blue the kind one only in winter or autumn . she had been on the verge of tears for decades but more acutely for a few days - the nostalgia had poisoned her. she feels as if she is in a wheelchair having eaten two calzone chocolate cheesecakes and the like. she had for sure given up the bee and was trying to just be. the video had thrown her for a loop - to see into the past enough to recall it. have it be a nausea-inducing window. vertigo. she paced in place back and forth and looked at birds and trees and flowers and bushes. one day this would all be quaint, and she allowed all her memories to keep her warm and dance along in her head. she thought often of the time she went first nuts in 2000 and how she had been crazy and said it was all changing irrevocably - and it hurt. She remembers the mantra "we're on the wrong trajectory". currently, it felt like she were on a puff of air and unaffected. that was nice. she wasn't looking forward to crying. she thought a lot lately of the baby she didn't end up having by her choices. and the second one, at 40, tied to an abusive narcissistic madman. she'd already had one experience on the other side of that. it was no fun recalling these times. "mahal pag ibig" it was ridiculous. she was glad she had him to take to her fathers. that was a weird revenge to impart - to say I'm throwing myself away in a hell for you. her coffee tea cup had been a gift from Andrew. she allowed it because it was large, it had a scorpion on it . she didn't allow much from Andrew. still was it hard. thrown away again by someone you had bent over backwards to try and fit into the right mold to. she kept being surprised that she was not panicking about not being able to see people and about the cheesecake, yet she had not one regret about the cheesecake and figured people were near at hand. I'm done with it, but it's the best desert I've ever had. transcendent cheese cake. and a grey suv saunters down the street while the sun streams in like a weak scream. she's no longer one thing, but she can start being more stylish.
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