digging into it: I

so another recap. another backwards musing:

it's funny b/c i was talking to Pree-oz about this, and one year ago, i was defined by one of my closest friends as the most "stable", in terms of "life" and where i was in 'what i was doing': i had a husband of 4+ years, was in school/career mode, was a 'home'owner, was getting my shit together, was thinking maybe, just maybe that it was 'time' to have kids--all of that status quo bullshit. and here's the insanity of it all--i hate status quo.

ok, well, hate is an extreme word--i hate to hate things. but taking that general life path--the expected, typical--in a very unthinking, undeliberate way seems to be a very unsettling way to live. but damnit--i was totally put in my place as all the shit was going down last year. while i was in counseling in the thick of things, and discussing the ins-and-outs of who i am as a person, i expressed my unsettling disturb about status quo. and he asked:
"so what have you done w/ your life that isn't status quo?"
(pause. dramatic pause. gatheringthoughtsgatheringthoughts.) fuck. motherfucker! nothing. absolutely nothing.
"you should keep a check on that tongue of yours."
there are more important things going on right now, P Dave. i'm not pretending here.
"certainly."
but noted. you're probably right.

so, yes. i was "stable", but absolutely not living a life that was authentic to my personhood. i'm still trying to understand the person i am. it's hard to know. when your identity is so wrapped up in another person for a decade (an entire third of my life)... i've been scrambling around trying to gather up the loose scraps of my identity to understand that. i'm not clear in what i'm finding. what does one do in this circumstance? the thing that would seem to make sense to me would be to remember who i was ~before~.

but that girl.

the angry, confused, man-hating, explosive, lost and wandering, drug-abusing, thrill but purpose seeking, insecure little soul. that's not entirely me either. some of that still is, undoutedly. but, i'm trying to tease out that identity and the one that developed afterwards--whilst scrounging around for those more pure and untouched elements that were part of my ex-'love-of-my-life'. i know it's not entirely reasonable to think that i can recreate myself and fully understand my identity w/o my ex, but honestly, i want to try my best to do that. i don't want any part of his fucked up identity and the twisted tragedies that influenced my twisted responses to continue to plague me. again, this is impossible, i know. but let me fool myself while i heal and maybe i can feel that i have some kind of integrity.

so where does that leave me?

feeling again. certainly. i've been more conscious about what i've been feeling--in an intense way--more in the past 10 months than i have in the 5 years previous. and even moreso in the past 4 months since i've been in Korea. it's amazing to not feel like such a bland, washed out piece of overly used terrycloth. still have some of my blandness and frayed edges, but those rainments are like my favorite high school pair of broken in everyday jeans. they had 2 safety-pins fastened to my thigh for 'just-in-case'. they came in handy to clean out various bowls, leaving small dark smears when i refastened them. one of them was forever lost in the ether when a friend's bra snapped. i remember the gap-mouthed expressions of those adolescent boys while i assisted my girlfriend w/ her broken bra strap in the backseat of a Chevy Nova. (giggling protests, of course. stop watching, you idiots! dumb, juvenile games. but, it was fun.) i loved those jeans. i can't remember what happened to them.

why do i recount such random memories?
i think it helps me to recall the whatever i was made of before it all. though i've evolved beyond that ridiculousness, i'll admit that that silly, coquettish sensibility is still very much a part of my personality. God help me. so is that maybe where i start? just naming things that begin to form the outline--the shape of who this girl is on this earth?

this is unfinished. but i will continue when i've got some more time.

unfolding laundry

ah. family. what do you do with them?
it hurts.
you think you might know what might be going on with them--especially so because of the collaborated associations of the years and years, right? you're so confident knowing certain things, and then when you discover that that might not be the case, you gasp! i'm gasping in surprised confusion.
i'm not sure what to do with this confusion. i don't even know if it 's something to categorize. i'm fairly certain though--that that the 'offending' party would not appreciate that i am categorizing such things.
thinking about all of this almost makes me cry. this is not because of my 오빠's plausible actions, but because i feel that certain things should not burden your soul in this way. and because of the secrecy. why hide these things?

why are people so hung up?

so, we were just looking at each other after another one of our stupid, idiotic, idiocies... his face was soft. childlike. he reached out his hand to grasp mine. and i refused. why?--it just felt like it'd be too much. like i'd be giving into him again and accepting an apology for a crime that would happen over and over. (it's definitely been more than 70 times 7 times!!). i had no stomach for it in that moment. does that make be a cruel witch? to not fully accept an extended apology?

God. we've got issues.

so. baby steps--because some kinds of success is worth all the failures along the way, right?

my brother and i used to quietly confer about sneaking out before our parents went to sleep. i would read books until i thought the coast was clear. he would listen for me in the creaking in the upstairs hallway. so, in the middle of the night darkness, we would carefully tread down the memorized map of the stairs where the squeaks were most muted. quickly pulling open the back door, we'd pause, hold our breaths, and wonder if our parents would rise to investigate. they never did. (well, once, but i wasn't with him that time.)
then we'd sit on the stoop or the sidewalk--a little ways away from home if we were feeling a little more edgy. we talked and talked and smoked cigarettes and the occasional joint. towards then end, it was just me smoking the joints and the hitters. we discussed many of those bigger questions while i was expanding (dulling?) my mind.

today, i am sheepishly remembering how depressed i was when he was leaving for college. he was my confidante. the person who 'got' me. we shared everything--he knew about all those hopes and angst and the things that i was hiding or didn't share with my parents and "friends". he worried intensely, extensively about some of the choices i was making and the mental paths that i was deliberately beginning to skip down.

but then we drifted in different directions and then he started thinking and acting in ways that made absolutely no sense to me. nor i to him, for that matter. i struggled and fought against the identity of innocent little sparrow. in retrospect, i sometimes wish i hadn't discovered and explored beyond certain boundaries. hard truths led to regrettable consequences that i still live in today. so, maybe he was right sometimes. damnit.
my brother and i eventually began to disagree--heatedly, and my attitude towards him developed into one of sneering arrogance.
how disgusting and silly of me? who am i and what is the nature of my lowly thoughts? i have no right to arbitrate what is good or right or beautiful. i am an unforgiving monster.

but he came and visited me in Seoul--on a visit of seemingly misguided and confusing intentions. we had little (and large) tiffs almost every time we saw each other. he cut me down with subconscious inconsiderations and i exacted my revenge with my endless arsenal of sharp discontent.

i just don't agree with you! can't we just leave it?
if you'll just let me finish talking--
you've been talking for 45 minutes!
but you haven't given me a chance to get to the point.
i am going to pull my hair out!

many of my silvery greys have seemed to have faded back to black, but these pointless and roving conversations were making them sprout again. why was he making it so difficult? in a moments of frustrated exhaustion, i would ask him: why can't you just be nice to me? i know you're kind and loving to other people. why not me?
he was chagrinned by this. and he admitted some things. he was actually weak at times. we began to slowly--very slowly shift in our attitudes toward each other.
so maybe he's not a robot? or an alien?

but in the course of our ever-deepening discourse (the first we've had in many years), i was struck with an absurd musing. it was completely absurd, but it was still there.
my other sweetie brother gave me a cardiac shock a few years back with his revelations of certain things. so i asked this brother a question that bled along that same, preposterous vein.

_____________________?
i don't know. i don't think i want to answer that.
why? why wouln't you be able to answer that question?
i... just can't...
why? it's such a peculiar thing... his head was hidden behind a turquise shelter. i almost felt sorry for him, but i was so curious. it seemed almost nonsensical to hide such a trivial thing. but i guess siblings might hide certain things from each other based upon circumpect.
i'm just not going to force you to talk about it. 오빠, either way you answer, it makes you more human.
i still don't think i want to talk about that.
what the fuck? (i'm human. unsatiated wondering.) why can't you answer such a question? it's really nothing. but... if you look @ it that way... i love you. dearly. and there is nothing you could say that would change that.

eitherway, his silence made him more human.

once. just once.

a heart breaking mistake. why do i always have to learn things in this heart breaking way?
i think i had prided myself in actually being smarter than to do certain things, but apparently, i've got as much dumb ass in my system as the next overly educated idealist. this was probably apparent to anyone who's read any of my earliest blogs, but hell!--much of that had to do w/ flights of bullshit fancy rather than actual plans to realize any true self-degradation.

this has been a blurring dramatic week that started off by a trip to the hospital then the pharmacy and then two days later getting intoxicated to the point of committing a regretful act that i'm probably going to feel twisted about for a while. i sat trembling in my office today feeling sick and disgusted and cursed at myself all day. yes. this is vague.

i can't believe i'm actually writing about this right now. i'm toying with the idea of not publishing this blog at all--and keeping it hidden w/ a few other secret blogs i've written. but these are the chronicles of the crazy process of my growing process, so i'm going to be honest with myself and anyone reading this. you may or may not have shared a similar experience. it's going to get a little PG-13 folks, so if you can't handle the word sex, please stop reading.

let's get a little more specific. i have now officially joined the teeming masses of the misguided. i have officially had a one night stand. how crass. awful. problematic and degrading and ugh!--i'm feeling nauseous thinking about it. it's not the act itself that is so troubling to me, but moreso the fact that it was me. i don't judge anyone for their indulgences, but i feel really disturbed that i allowed this to happen. this is actually not me. this is against any and everything i value about human relationships.
and huh!--again, Christian girl gone amuck. i know that there is no real difference in the gradations within the Biblical tenets regarding (dare i use the word?) fornication, but even outside of this 'religious' talk, i feel that there is something really base and demeaning to both parties who engage in this way. it's not meant to be this way. God did not make sex to be so misused. i write so openly about this partly to think through it all and partly because i need to get it out there in the world and be humble about my unfortunate idiocy.

i'm a human. i've got those carnal desires that every human being has. this is not necessarily why this happened. why did it happen?
partly because of this damn woman nature of mine. we all want to be considered beautiful and desired and pedestaled as the most amazing treasure eyes have beheld. you want to be that one. seen. that smooth and curvy and incredibly sparkly sexy-as-hell hourglass--just by walking down the street or leaning against a desk or wielding a butter knife. fuckable just because you're so damn pretty.
but still valued.
it's a tricky balance.

i don't think these things are wrong wants or needs. in fact, i believe this is how God made women.
but i fretted and cursed at myself all day; i muttered frustrated and degrading comments to myself at my computer; i sighed heavily over and over and rubbed my temples raw; i pulled on my hair and clenched my fists; i wished i could put on a sackcloth and smother myself in a mountain of ashes.

again. why did this happen? why would i do this to myself? why does anyone do this to themselves?

i was talking to a friend today and feel that she quoted something that i found incredibly profound. 'sin is when we miss the mark'.
we women have those desires to be sparkly and amazing, but sometimes we simply miss the mark. we can see what we want and we approach it w/ all kinds of tenacity and shiny eyeshadow or scheming and perfumes or posturing--whatever--to get our needs gratified. and there are times we accidentally stumble into that unforeseen opportunity for that momentary flash of feel-good. there's that point where you just let yourself fall into it and the momentum carries you down the rabbit hole.
eitherway, when we make any choice that isn't aligned to the way that things should be, we miss the mark. and we often cycle into another mistake and another--in an effort to recover or try to hit our target again. but this turns into a mass of degrading choices that cause deep, bone aching, heart wrenching pain.
then we tear at our hair and sorrowfully spill of a fountain of tears. regret.

and knowing this, already knowing all of this, why did i make this mistake? continue to make these mistakes? damnit. i'm a sinner. fuck. things have certainly changed in the past quarter of a year. and i have the irresistible tendency to learn things in the hardest way possible.

Jesus help me. i cannot compel myself to not do what i want to do. i cannot compel myself to stop myself from doing what i desire, but even though it's not Your way.

outside of all of these things, i learned a maybe superficial but powerful lesson. men want to have sex. and they actually want to have sex with me. they may not behold me as the most et cetera of et ceteras, but i actually am beginning to believe that i might be desirable and pretty enough that many men would want to get into bed w/ me, simply because of my appearance. yuck.
i do NOT want to get into bed with many men. and i will NOT.

so yes, last night. incredibly stupid assinine horrifying behavior, yes.
but i'm joining a club--i should laminate a card and stamp my name on it. officially a lifetime member of the ONE one-night stand club.
ladies, gentlemen--if you're a part of this club, please don't revoke your membership.

a.kin.esthetic

substance. i want to touch it
hold it in my hands
let it slide or seep through my fingers
feel it in the hollow of my neck
that velvet
that softness shifting
crunching beneath my shoes
a solid kick connecting against the ball of my foot
flipping and skittering down faded asphalt
and grasping gripping so hard with tense muscles until
it dies bursting
spilling death between straining digits
and rhythmic bronchial scorching

all this substance.
i want to shove it into uneven ridges
nerves and neurons
this rough texture beneath my tongue
tasting the gritty saltiness
seeping in
scraping over raw wounded skin
twisting searing heat
the soft percussion of blood
warm staccato coursing
rippling streams chasing ticklish
down shoulder blades
slipping into the curves of my back
slippery tiles slick smoothness

the substance.
of grains under pressed prints
lifting
smashing into linoleum
cracking
satisfying sharp reverberation
up and down trembling arms
alkaline battery burn
dripping off a chin
soft tapping ticking
backspace
clicking fingernails against plastic

journal: 3.16.09

today, i had an extensive conversation with food. it was a good talk.
these past three months have been happy, melancholy, exciting, stupid, all these things--but generally interesting. i can't complain i suppose. but, as i sit still and think about things sometimes, my heart just feels that there's an empty hole for some people. partly because i have no idea when i'll set my foot back on American soil. partly because so many things have changed for me--in a dozen varieties of varieties.
how i look @ faith and God. what it means to dream. what it means to be a person. a woman. a friend. and once again a person who is producing something--however paltry that product seems to me.

dreaming. i'm not sure what my dreams are made of anymore these days. i think i have a clue. i have things that make my heart bleed and cause my eyes to water, but damnit!--the world is such a messed up place these days, and it's overwhelming to think about the mountains of garbage that need to be attended to.
and i'm so privileged. why? i'm so isolated from the worst of most of all of the crap. i have higher level education, i speak English, i can think on my feet, i can force myself to put my fist to a clock and do the 45 hour/week thing. these things allow me to have some kind of job--unlike many many worldwide right now. i know i'm fortunate. i can generally be unconcerned about money or unemployment.
but, sitting @ a desk, interacting w/ my computer all day has once again reminded me how much i need human contact and again and again--to do something purposeful. something that causes a stirring for me. i know that God made me a certain way, w/ certain skills, abilities, et cetera, i just have no idea what to do w/ myself. these skills feel completely useless these days.

and i can be a raging pessimist at times. the same old demons.
but no--not here. i won't go into all of that all-too-personal explication here and bore people w/ my mountains of garbage. i see those demons now--i know their names and what it looks like when they chase me down. this unrelenting and impossible chase--always running for so many years. but when i finally saw them for what they actually were--actually stopped to examine them, they seemed somewhat less frightening. although, some of them still scare the hell out of me and i've been picking up a few new ones here and there. i know it's always a process, but i wonder what i'll look like when all the extraneous is burned away.

i guess, amidst all of the intense emotions and chaos and drama and all of these questions about what's what, where am i going, what am i doing, and all of those why-the-hell-did-i-just-do-that?-moments--
today, i really just want to just crawl across the floor, put my head in my mom's lap, and listen to her tell me she loves me while she strokes my hair.

Friday psalm

in this river
on this piecemeal raft, i sit
taking hold of these ropes
fashioned of strands of grass
i love these loops and ties
to connect to
all of you
today--this very real day
over these waters
we are flowing down

sometimes these rippling waters carry us lazily
we fondly touch hands
braid hair with curious fingers
exchanging thousands of words
the shifting of silent lips
remembering faces
each feature
we melt into one another
staring into the dandelion sky or
one sees the sun
while the other watches the crescent moon
but we can still touch--we are still touching
melting into
each
the other

periodically pensive
but always carried forward stream
quiet water seeping between curled toes
the sweet aloneness that causes sweet ache
passing all of that verdant foliage
i try to remember the names of trees and plants
but when i close my eyes
these names, shapes
they have been fading
losing color, this is bad
i must keep those eyes open

sometimes i imagine that all of this
these hydrogen-oxygen atoms we float on
these waving, fluttering green hands that surround us
the horizons of purples and blues and golds
is this a self-constructed dream?

but i have touched them
we've all been touched
pierced by these colors
these small greennesses as they cleave their shells
these minor cuts, slight stings

and also crashing
flowing downward downward
it pulls me, you, all of us
downward on this river
these liquid arms drawing and towing
us
wondering where it's all going
lightning crashing
crooked bare branches
and i weep
we weep
because we don't know where You are

i wonder
how long will i travel this way?
intermittently calm
but often
soaked and broken
bone chilled wintery
without volition?
or is this way volitional as well?
this choice to not paddle towards a shore?

i wish to resist this deepening languor and keep watching
waiting for that winking firefly
i wish to wait for that quickening in my spirit
that something that keeps my heart beating
please tell me
does your heart stir as well?

i know i must be brave
more than courageous
to abandon this raft
will you dive with me?
into these waters
whether warm or icy?
it might be too much to ask

but one day
the bright flickering flame
maybe you'll watch me
or maybe i'll follow you
thrusting off
diving into the swirling hydrogen and oxygen
joyfully
swimming as hard as we can
because together
we caught glimpse
of that quickening light

journal: 3.9.09

and for years,
a little girl thought her favorite color was blue.
mainly because it was her 엄마's favorite color.
her 엄마 revealed her fondness for blue in the days where the little girl was still learning some of those basic things.
like how to run
or how to strategically wash a sink full of dirty dishes
and how to bow properly to her elders
her favorite color
Crayola midnight blue

everything races past at blurring speeds, and you settle into a normal. this pattern of doing things, thinking in a certain way. sure, there are those who are "spontaneous"--into the spice and adventure and the mysteries of making the atypical choice, but we've all got our favorite cereals for breakfast, or we prefer toast or oatmeal or some random snack from the convenience store. or we prefer nothing at all.

either way, we have the things we know and like and we know what we think we Know. we have confidence in things like the concrete sidewalk, so we step on it. we trust the elevator will get us to floor five if we hit the right button. we get on planes, we fill out paperwork, we exercise, we hug someone 'hello', we play a certain song, mostly with a kind of confidence that all of our actions will result in a certain something, right?

but then there are the mysteries that we don't really know or understand. we try to make sense of it as best as we can, but usually we just shrug our shoulders and coast into whatever the next thing is.
our wheels following those same tire treads.
the wind in our hair, the sun on our faces, the delicious prospects of adventure, or sometimes just the humdrum of the everday.
no matter where we go, when we stop questioning, our treads maintain that same pattern as we coast. those grooves keep solidifying and pressing downward into the muddy trail--so much so, that we can't see over the lip of the chasm we've created. we don't even realize we're in a chasm anymore. we just move East because we've always been moving East along these ever deepening self-perpetuated channels of thought.
(ugh. excuse the language, but this is what i really mean.)

but Queen Esther questioned things. she stood up in the face of a potentially awful and painful death in order to preserve the lives of her fellow countrymen. she could have made the choice to just anxiously twist her hands in her silken robes and sumptuous surroundings. she could have just paced back and forth in her little glass cage, hoping that genocide wouldn't happen.
but it was all too calculated. the venom with which the law was written and was being passed was too poisonous. people would die. her people.
her response was immediate. she called people to pray, to fast, to plead for mercy.

it's this immediacy that makes me think. there's so much that i want to do, have a passion for, and want to learn. i've had many of these cycling aspirations for years. and some of those things have come into fruition. some of these other things may be delusions of grandeur and some of them are real possibilities.
in particular, the smaller, more personal items are certainly achievable: finally saying 'no' to certain habits, showing a little more love to certain people, reading and writing more, working out so my skinny jeans don't feel so tight, learning Korean, being more intentional to stay connected to people, seeing Australia/New Zealand and Europe and more of Asia and Africa. then maybe Israel and eventually South America.
duh. all these things are duh--easy. easy to conceive, definitely all in the realm of just a little bit of time and effort. i know these things--we all know these things, but i fall into normal. the ease of the pattern.

but here's the problematic part.
the scary part.
*
Mr. Boyd spoke this into my ears while i rode buses back home yesterday:
if you don't act on what you know, you may lose the capacity to know. and further, you may lose the capacity to act on the truths you've been afforded.
then, as we gently move along, we will convince ourselves that its not not clear anymore. we convince ourselves that we don't know what we really knew to begin with.
"oh! the ambiguities are amazing!"

[is this getting too convoluted? is anyone following?]

the more we just live without examining and acting--without moving towards these bursts of light, the lights will fade with time and circumstance. the more difficult it will become to clearly see.
*
we deceive ourselves in our inaction.
we deceive ourselves when we ignore that quickening.
how hideous.

i don't want to lose my capacity to act, all bloated on knowledge.
i feel frightened at the possibility that another month, nine and a half months, five years will pass with nothing produced but philosophical musings and dreamy meditations.

all of this meandering rambling.

even though this little girl's favorite color is still blue, i've thought carefully about it and have made deliberate choices.
there are sharp glimmers of light.
though my vision has many swirling mists that make things very unclear, in the darkest of the deepest black, i have a certain stirring of Peace.

why am i so blessed?
i promise to run hard when i catch sight of a ray.
Lord help me.

Monday psalm

the sun
amazing warm touch on my face
brushing my cheeks
these subtle Spring kisses

today, my jeans feel snug
but for once
i don't feel unattractive or unlovely
actually
i feel sexy
this taut fabric around my thighs
and curved hips
and my blinking brown eyes
blushed lips
earthy hints in my skin

this melancholy tune
reminding me
these bittersweet realities
together we breathe
of no grass green and empty streets
where the sun sets on us all

all of us
made of earth
hints

we are not alone
we are all here
seeking for
everysingleone kissed
but not every one receives

let's hold hands
and feel and remember
let's learn of this
know of this
grow in this--all of This
together

journal: 3.5.09

why do i start this? this late at night?
this will be a rant. i apologize. i'll make up for it.

it's almost tomorrow and i know that beginning anything will result in a half pack of cigarettes smoked and incredible lethargy for the first few of my waking hours. well, i guess my job doesn't require that many alert and firing neurons.

but i've been contemplating change.
changes.
lots of them.

everything changes. countries change. culture changes. governments change. world leaders get displaced and people revolt. the economy goes to hell and people lose their jobs.
women, little girls get pregnant. fuck! women get the hell ravaged out them them--all around this little round rock and we sit idly by, sipping our espressos and shaking our heads at the travesty.
damnit. it makes me cry.
i promise to do something.
i promise.

and car accidents. lost limbs. lost lives. this makes me cry too.
i hurt. this hurts.

people get chubby. and skinny. hairstyles change.
my hair was fairly straight until i turned 25, and suddenly it's become a crazy curl under this magnificent magic straight perm. i'm chasin' BigWhig.
paint peels. new clothes get old. even my very even-keeled menstrual cycle of the last 20 years has changed strangely in the past three months.

massive geological things happen. i read an article sometime in the last 164 hours about how the Earth had been some thousands of miles from some 40-yard meteor that circles and cycles around our sun. there would've been catastrophic consequences if there was contact. all we could've done is 'evacuate the area'.
we humans would've had to just get the hell out of the way and then collectively held our breath while speculating what kind of impact this would have in our known worlds.

i say 'worlds' because we exist in our own little self-contained systems, don't we? the slightest changes in our worlds can wreak havoc and insanity. we complain because our gas prices are too high or someone's cells start mutating really bad or we don't have our right brand of toothpaste or someone betrayed us or we broke a bone or bit our tongues too hard.
i mean, i bit it so hard that it bled, damnit. that shit hurts!

this is not to say that these experiences are insignificant--they absolutely are. financial distress sucks. cancer is an unspeakably awful experience as the hand-holder or the hand-held. our minor inconveniences, especially as they are stacked and compounded--this shit can turn hairs gray.
i had gray hairs sprouting everywhere about 7 months back--and now i have no idea where they've gone. i was confused and a little glad for some reason when i saw them. and wondered if they'd stick around. maybe they're still there? i'm really not sure.

but considering all of this movement. this movement that happens everywhichwhere--damnit! it feels absolutely chaotic and frightening at times.

so where does this leave me? all of this change. all of this seeming chaos. sometimes sad.
people change. relationships change. sometimes the subtlest changes make the 'worlds' of difference, no?
sometimes a tiny little blood cell dries up a little and it congeals with a partner who brings along several more partners and travel into the brain. sometimes your hand was too close to something that looked like a blade inside an engine and it turned too sharply before you could blink. sometimes you admit something you shouldn't have admitted and it changes a relationship forever. sometimes you don't want something to happen, and it does, and then you realize that it creates a relief you didn't realize you needed. sometimes you try at something really desperately, longing for something that will never happen.
and sometimes it does.

it hurts. it feels good.
sometimes.

i like to make sense of it. intermittently.
at least there's a burn that you can feel, i guess.

well, i smoked 6 smokes while writing this today.
it burned. but in a tasty good way.
i think.

suds and an Avian flight

sandlewood curling in the air
my screen tells me it's two degrees above freezing,
but open windows
it streams in
fabric sways
they stream out
i'm dancing to Bird's in this nighttime

enjoying the smell of lemony bubbles that mist into my face
upwards i climb
into this time
with heated hands
a sink full of nurture complete
i smile
it's one in the am--this is ok, right?
donning pink rubber gloves at one, two, or two and a half in the am?
violins violas voices lilting on
splashing stanzas
sudsy
suds sing
bursting clink. this?
in the middle of the nighttime?

my ever familiar square black sky

downstairs trip twenty minutes ago--it was a stupid whim
스파크 still effervesces on my hands
but i love that i can choose
foamy stupidity
bah. at least another two hours to go
is anyone else awake in the world?
anyone else's hands have that fresh 스파클?
is anyone else listening to Bird's in this nighttime?

racing percussion
at times
piccoletting and a muted trumpet
there might've been a fiddle
or a ukulele
and a darling alto
with some wistful whistling
harmonious melodious

tap the volume up
and open the windows wider
so others can hear
maybe someone will listen? bemused?
and maybe small smile
at Bird's
maybe they'll join this nighttime dance
my dance

or maybe they'll fly?

March 3rd, 2009

she struggles now
she's broken
her health fails
her precious father just had a stroke
her brothers are so far away
her uncle just died yesterday
her grandmother is going senile and needs to be put in a home because her whole family is broken

she can't sleep though she's exhausted
and she has a million things to do
spinning thoughts
she's been crying
but she asks for prayer
she knows that there's answers though she might not understand
she still finds Joy
she still finds Peace
immeasurable. eternal.

i love her
my Sister

though we're separated by 7000 miles,
we prayed together over email, knowing that our little voices will be heard

***
...as Su is hurting and struggling through all of this, i ask for an extra measure of that good stuff for her. help her to really sense Your presence and not just get lost in the pain of these circumstances. please put people in her life to encourage her and to pray for her as she moves forward. give her hands to hold and shoulders to shed tears upon. help her to know that she is loved by me and her friends and her family--but most of all, help her to experience Your unfailing love. help her to know that Your love follows her as she drives to work, as she sits at her computer, as she eats her meals, as she talks on the phone, as she brushes her hair, as she lies in bed to sleep. give her the special grace that helps her to sleep. we are thankful because we know that You are our Provider and our Comforter.

we pray these things in the Name of Jesus Christ our Lord and Beautiful Savior
Amen.

i love you darling Sujung. please let me know when's a good time to call.
***

electronic paper cut

oh fuck.
why do people bother to be snide? what is the utility of it? is it a search for the proof of the power you might have over them?
and moreover and over: why bother tossing weak acid on people w/ whom the familiarity and the association has ended?

let's press that dull knife against that skin and see if it'll break through a layer or two. see if it'll hit four chambers or a pancreas or something.

i hated to press 'send' but i did. i had to. there were some important legal questions. for 2 seconds, i hovered over a figurative button on a computer screen. then i shrugged a shoulder and drifted into that minor little click...
when drew my hand back and casually tossed that airplane into the electronic ether, i didn't think about the message or the recipient. i saw the lilting flight of paper on uneven breaths of air. veering to and fro and curving around unseen crests.

i forgot how precise my aim would be.
this forsaken internet. there is no room for romantic daydreams about the lyrical flights of paper messages getting caught up on the wind.

you don't always think about how someone else's heart is still beating when you don't feel like remembering them. well, i don't anyway. they are like hazy dreams and haphazard images. no minds or intentionality. why would they think of you any differently than you think of them?

pretty please. just forget my name.

why run at me so deliberately with a flimsy point? can i not just fold into hazy dream? and tell me: what is this slight sting?

sigh. i think i need to go ask these befuddling questions to a piece of buttered toast. and maybe a piece of chocolate and 6 cigarettes. and of course, Jesus.

what it looks like?: II

he said he never remembers his dreams--that it had been about 20 years since he's had any memories upon waking. however, last week he awoke gasping and sweating to these images:

he was walking along the streets of Seoul when he saw a beautiful woman with a glossy sheet of long black hair wailing loudly:
"i'm blind! i'm blind! someone help me!"

he rushed over and stared into her deep brown unseeing eyes. he reached to catch hold of her arm to calm her. a duo of old women in vivid colors intercepted the woman and began stroking her hair and face, speaking in sweet dulcet tones:
we're here to help. we're going to help you to regain your sight. hold onto our arms.

the woman whimpered and cried and clung onto the brightly lit fabrics of their sleeves. they began pulling her down the street.

he was concerned. curious. so he called out to them. the duo looked backwards and then nodded to him excitedly as they hurried along. reds, yellows, blues, and browns swished around their thin bodies.

he followed them down the street. they turned left into an alley, then another left into a smaller alley. they carefully led her up four broken concrete stairs into a warm room filled with thick sweet odor he couldn't identify.

the duo seated the woman into a plush old couch and flit out of the room still calling out to her sweetly. the dark curtain of the woman's hair flowed downwards and she began twisting knots into the strands of her locks. her chocolate eyes were enormous with tears as she stared through him:
"please. i don't understand what's happened. please help me. why can't i see?"
he lifted up her chin to ascertain if there was something unusual about her eyes: i'm not sure. but i'll do whatever i can to help you. don't worry. try to stay calm.

they swished back, each holding a rusting bucket. they edged between him and the woman. crackling sounds came from the depths of the corroding metal:
tilt your head back, my dear... back further. this will make it better. you'll be able to see clearly very soon.

knotted hair swung back. the two women each reached into their buckets and began applying white slimy maggots to her eyes. his stomach turned and he recoiled:
no! stop! that's not going to help her!

they ignored him as they swiftly bandaged her eyes. the woman was silent. he pulled on a flying hem and insisted more loudly this time:
stop! stop it! that's going to hurt her!

the duo looked at him in confusion: this works to cure blindness with great frequency, sir.
please! please! you have to get that off of her eyes!

they looked at each other and then looked at him. one of them slowly reached around the woman's head and undid the bandage. the crumpled fabric fell to her lap. the maggots writhed around each other in the folds. her brown irises had been eaten away and maggots crawled along underneath her eyes and on her cheeks.

"i can see! i can see again! oh thank you thank you!" she beamed at him and in turn at the duo.
but even as her lips curved upwards in pleasure, he began hearing screams of eternal pain fill the room. the three women delightedly clapped and laughed and then squeezed each other's hands.

the maggots continued to feed as the woman continued to smile.