Reading this all that time without my knowledge wasn't kind. It was the opposite of kind. He should never have shared this with you.

Thankfully I met someone who never would have.

.

.

.

.

.

day 126

12/13/01

6:25pm

.

.

let it snow

let it snow

let it snow.

.

.

.

cold outside.

glittering diamonds in a glacial night. eternal cold of outer space. wild and lonely across the dark acres. &drowsy peace inside. across a dark rushing river, across fields of grass flung far and wide,
i see it all in your eyes,
and i can't forget the feeling.

.

.

3pm

just saw steve martin
walking down the hall and
he smiled at me & then was
past before i realized who he was
distracted as i am~~~~how groovy
is that?

is that too freaking groovy? i think it is, i think it definitely is

.

.

.

the delicious mmm-mmm-mona m. won't be joining me tonight
at vanilla sky. so sabina will have to save me
a seat

...

found my journal from when i was 14. -i was writing down everything everyone said. seems like i was a real bitch to mel. here's a conversation i wrote down at gramma's house: w/me, mel, and matt, who were both 11 at the time.

matt: "know what this tastes like?"
mel: "what?"
matt: "cow dooey!"
matt: "hey, that's mom langley's candy!"
mel: "she said i could have some."
me: "you're a con artist, mel. she said not to eat anything till dinner."
matt: "yeah, MEL! mom langley, mel's eating."
gramma (in a pained voice): "kids!"
mel: "hey, gramma, do you want me to count your dimes today? i mean, your pennies."
gramma: "no, i'd rather you didn't."
mel: "i wanna count your pennies. cause, if i don't, i'll forget to."
gramma: "no, because all you kids, and it falls on the floor, and goofing off..."
melissa walks out of the bedroom with the jar of pennies. gramma is rendered speechless.
me: "how can you get your jollies out of counting pennies?"
mel: "15.....16.....17..."
matt: "let's make noises....aaaahhhhh, uhmmmm."
me: "melissa, how can you get your jollies out of counting pennies?"
mel: "24......25.....26...."
matt: "that's 200....."
me: "mel, how do you get your jollies out of counting pennies? come on...tell me."
matt: "how, mel?"
matt: "you have to count like this..nan-5, nan-6, nan-7, nan-8, nan-9, nan-10."
THUMP. me: "just thought i'd join you here on the floor, since you aren't answering me."
mel: "three dollars."
me: "can i count too? 1....2....3..."
matt(plops down on floor): "NOOOOOO!!!!!"
mel: "matt, you messed me up!!!"
matt: "whattaya eating, mel? huh?"
me: "huh? mel, whattaya eating?"
matt: "don't goof, mel, don't goof!"
me: "this candy's good. mel, beside the chair, mel, that you were eating."
matt: "wow, a CANADIAN PENNY!!!"
mel: "QUIT IT YOU GUYS!! YOU MESSED ME UP!! NOW I FORGOT HOW MUCH MONEY'S IN HERE!!! GRAMMA!!!!" (hits me in the small of the back. i giggle. she redumps the coins.)
matt: "wow! another canadian penny!"
mel: "matt, you're a faggot!! hands off it!!"
matt: "waaAAAAHHH!! AH-AH-WAH!!" he runs into the bedroom, then, after a few minutes, comes back. smacks mel. "HANDS OFF IT!" he mimics, then runs.
in a few minutes, he's back. "QUICK DRAW!" BOOM. "Pfffffttt!" (sticks out tongue). "hey, mel! lose count and i'll hit you with a rubber band!"
mel: "MATTHEW!!!!"
matt: (screams) "I'M THORRY!!!" (covers face with hands) hits her with the rubber band. "that hoit?" hits himself. "cow dooey!"
mel: "jello-breath!"
matt: (breathes in her face) "ha ha, you lost count again!"
mel (screams): "ONE!! TWO! THREE! FOUR!"
me (righteously): "ya'll! gramma's going to get upset!"
mel: "SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE..."
me: "ya'll!"
mel: "TEN!!!"
matt: "THIRTEEN!!! FOURTEEN! SEVENTEEN!"
mel: "FAGGOT!" hits him. he gets up and runs out the door. she follows.

.

.

a glow

last night i went over to the table near him so i could draw an illustration of what i was trying to explain, since i wasn't conveying properly....i had to kneel down &began to draw a sort of diagram. and while i was drawing, he was sitting in the armchair next to the table, and moved near to watch me drawing. and his legs were sort of touching my back, and he didn't move out of my space. and, i didn't mind.

so i drew the thing and explained all the while very aware that his leg was sort of resting against my side. then he leaned in closer and turned toward me so his arm, which was sort of propped on his knee, touched my back. it was only for a few moments, but the effect was kind of ....dramatic. haven't been touched in so long. i didn't move away, and he didn't re-adjust himself, so for a few minutes while i did the drawing, we were very close, touching.

and it was really nice. it made me think about other things. about holding him. what that would feel like. he's not in Great shape, not a body person, but tall and larger than i am, and there's a kind of comfortable body language there. and that ....glow.
so today i keep feeling that closeness.

keep feeling him leaning in and feel warmer for
it.

actually a little nervous. not nervous nervous but nothing was said, we're still friends, everything is the same, neither of us mentioned it or acted funny. but i kept thinking about it. and keep thinking about it.

.

.

.

day 125

12/12/01

5:30pm

.

.

.

.

sandi stritchko
looked me up. my friend from 4th grade!
wow. how many times have i wondered what
happened to her. and how many times have i wondered how easter eggs are made

.

.

always wanted to own something with a
leopard-print pattern but
never found anything i could really pull off.
but.

today i'm very proud
to be wearing my
dollar-twenty-five thrift-store
leopard-print velvet baggy pants.

they have a 'TUDE i can only hope to
have myself, one day

.

.

i guess
a little bit of the sunshine has
gotten under my skin.
these days are all just seeming to run
together easily. like cool clear water
w/o much turbulence.

not sad, not happy, but
kind of

i guess

nice

; nice ;

easy,

like smooth shiny
stones slipping through my fingers. wonder
how they'll look to me ten years from now.

goodbyes are necessary. but, they're still hard. emotional currents are hard to stem.

the visual touchstones.

the gold lights coming up in the studio next door. a sudden glow that still makes me jump.

--like starlight arriving into our night sky
from suns expired long years ago.

signals from the past;

not searchlights calling me home.

.

.

the difference between hello and goodbye nearly invisible. the finest gradation of light and shadow. and more important than the difference between night and day.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"hold me now while my old life dies tonight, and i surrender."
-david sylvian

day 124

tue 12/11/01

6:20pm

kind of
melancholy today.
maybe it's the holidays.

.

.

ray brought me a copy
he made of the LBJ tapes.
wow. what a great surprise.
i think he feels kind of bad
about the whole concert
thing. he's a nice guy.

.

.

the night holds something
in the dark around corners.

surprises-possibilities-undeveloped
futures.

. and the day is full of wind
blowing bits of twisted palm
fronds in the street

.

.

.

the days are so clean and bright
blue

.

.

.

i do think of flyboy, but not
in the same way.

it's strange to see him when i've
seen him up here. doesn't affect me
the way it used to. used to feel nothing
but irrational longing.

even when he was dating the actress--a
kind of i-can't-help-it hope.
and a kind of denial that he was
spending time in another woman's arms,
seeing her, fighting with her, making
up, doing all the emotional exercises.

what's different--what?

it's not GONE-but
the sweetness is so tainted by
what happened this summer that
instead of looking at him and
yearning for him, i see
--instead---someone who wanted
to be in someone else's arms
and wants someone else---and
see, instead, that there's just
really nothing there.
before---

i think

i saw
what i wanted to see.

something really
driven from a primal place,
painted in a million shimmering
colors, every shade and tone
imaginable and shades beyond
anything i had ever seen in
my minds/heart's eye--but they were from
MY imagination.

my hope. not that he didn't
value it----
he just didn't value it in the same way.

well, anyway. the basic thing
is that it's different now. which
is good for me
and sad, too.

leaving behind a dream is sad, but
i'm sick of dreams. the reality is
he didn't want to know my family. he didn't
want to be seen with me in public. he
didn't want to be 'official' with me.
things people in good relationships take
for granted--that they're
proud of being with each other.

when i think about that,

it spoils the other feeling.

and i'm glad and i'm not glad

and it's just too bad.

the world really is now the way
it should be---uncluttered by such
crap.

.

.

.

saw 'the deep end' last night

*daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmn.*

night
from
hell.

tried to sleep w/o the trazodone. 2 1/2 hours tossing and turning finally took it. slept. sweat pouring out of me all night. and dreamed. all night. ALL night. that i was a squirrel.

this dream literally went on for hours--at least it seemed that way. i was living in a house where a family lived; the whole object of my life was to get food and avoid the family dog, which chased me up stairs, through rooms; i slid down banisters and snuck into cubbyholes, went outside to get nuts, brought the nuts back in, and there were certain foods the family had that i liked, that i also was on a mission to get, for my cache.

this could be because i saw a barrel of acorns in the cooke's market in malibu the other day. and thought, hm, acorns, what do you Do with them? or, it could be.....??

andre said maybe a delayed reaction to sept. 11th. "you're trying to store up for the future? be prepared for...something?"

.

woke up with a raging, splitting headache.

....

so melissa called and started ranting about HER night. skeez has been staying with her the last few days, and she said it was mostly fine, but that she's got weird sleeping habits. "like what?" i asked.

"well," mel said, "she sleeps with the tv on. which, you know, i've done. but i set it so it turns off at a certain time. but she just leaves it on. so every night in the middle of the night i would have to get up, and go downstairs, and turn off the tv. and she sleeps with the lights on....i mean, the kitchen light, the christmas tree lights, she just leaves everything on. it's bizarre.

"but then," she continued, "last night, in the middle of the night, she came upstairs, and said, 'can i get in bed with you?' and i said, 'why?'

----and she goes: 'the street light is coming in through the blinds and making a weird pattern on the ceiling.'

"---i mean---she sleeps with ALL THAT LIGHT and she's freaking out about THAT. so she gets in bed and of course she's a bed hog. so half the time she's got her leg on my side or she throws her arm over me. but i was so tired i just rolled over and let her get in bed."

...

reminds me of once in college when i was home for christmas and had to share a bed with mel. in the middle of the night i was dreaming fondly of my boyfriend, vince, and reached over to gently caress....melissa's breast. she woke up and yelled, "what are you doing?" -i apologized and we went back to sleep. and the next morning at breakfast she had to broadcast the news to anyone who would listen. "Xinthia grabbed my BOOB last night!"

.

.

.

.

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day 117

12/4/01

the air is like some precious substance today.
a kind of miracle that only happens a couple
of times a year. carries the light and the
temperature in such a way that everything looks
beautiful and feels inviting. carries a promise of reinvention.

as if just by sitting and breathing it,
one could cleanse one's self of everything
negative, sodden, unhealthy, stale.

one of the rare pure things in the world.

the air in santa monica after rain.

~*~

at the eye dr.'s today i picked up a copy of this
trade magazine. 20/20 it's called. the date of the issue: August 2001. flipped through it.

came upon a large full-page color ad:

here

.

.

.

it

.

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.

is:

.

.

.

.

.

.

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.

....kept the magazine.

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day 115

12/2/01

spanky is
a funny little dude. didn't realize
he was so visually engaged.
i had my hat on today, because
i had been out and it was chilly
this morning. i put him on my finger and
all he did was stare at the hat. nervously.
just looking, looking at my hat with big black
bird-eyes. then he would glance at my face, then
immediately return to staring at the hat.
seeming very ill-at-ease.
as if he wasn't sure it was me,
with the hat on my head.
cute little boogerhead.

great weekend. would have been
actually amazing, if not for this forkin'
cold. my head is still "generating two
pounds of snot per hour" as the
funny squirrel-bait woman said;

i've been lax, &you'all haven't been checking in as much...
i unnerstan'; ....it's the holidays and all~
and i'm not in a writing mood past week or so; but
i'm sure i will be again.looks like i got some hits
this weekend. groovy. ya'll come back anytime....

don't forget about me....

in the 'oy vay' dept.

trying to avoid conversations with ray these days. he's
a cutie, but not interested, and i'd rather just focus
elsewhere....anyway, the other day he
said, of his "fuck-buddy,":
"well, it's kind of good to just have her as a fuck-buddy, because
we can get...really....dirty."

AAAGGGHHH!!! TOO MUCH FUCKING INFORMATION.

i really didn't want to know. and then you wonder,
dirty? what's dirty? what do they do together?

pee on each other? what?

that. was. a. visual. i. did. not. need.

so

so.

i really want to drive to kentucky and the fact is it might be
way more expensive than flying. and my budget is tighter than i thought
it would be. so...dang it. might have to search for fares and rethink, rethink....
it would be so great to get in the car and just GO. haven't had a road trip
in so long. but maybe it's not feasable.

.

.

.

testing. testing. fuck blogger. testing.
no, really, i love my blog. and my love for blogger
just gets blogger and blogger
but i wish i could make the text just a bit blogger
:: xinsi b 7:18 AM [+] ::

...

bigger?
:: xinsi b 7:26 AM [+] ::

...

let's try it again, i want bigger dammit
:: xinsi b 7:44 AM [+] ::

...

bigger text please please
:: xinsi b 7:46 AM [+] ::

...

shit, another earthquake.
wish i weren't in this high rise
:: xinsi b 8:31 AM [+] ::

...

shifting shifting
shift this mo....
:: xinsi b 8:36 AM [+] ::

...

nother shift
:: xinsi b 8:41 AM [+] ::

...

krispy kreme pumpkin spice donuts o yea
:: xinsi b 8:51 AM [+] ::

...

still cattywumped
:: xinsi b 8:52 AM [+] ::

...

it was a 3.7 caltech says
:: xinsi b 8:58 AM [+] ::

...

now let's try it
:: xinsi b 9:16 AM [+] ::

...

god i just can't get it right
:: xinsi b 9:19 AM [+] ::

...

agAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH.what is it. what is
it. i'm looking and looking and i can't see what is it, OH MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!dy
you came and you gave without taking..
:: xinsi b 9:30 AM [+] ::

...

O BEAUTIFUL BLOG!!!!!!
:: xinsi b 9:46 AM [+] ::

...

so close i can almost taste it
:: xinsi b 9:48 AM [+] ::

...

oooh yeah those krispy kreme
almost there yeah warmer and warmer
:: xinsi b 9:54 AM [+] ::

...

sooooooooooosweet!
:: xinsi b 9:55 AM [+] ::

...

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
:: xinsi b 9:57 AM [+] ::

i'm living my life in safe mode
:: xinsi b 10:14 AM [+] ::

...

edit your blog, edit your blog,
edit your bloggity bloggity blog blog.
:: xinsi b 10:15 AM [+] ::

...

kiss me baby
:: xinsi b 10:17 AM [+] ::

...

don't want my name on this blog
:: xinsi b 10:29 AM [+] ::

...

letz try zeeess :: xinsi b 10:38 AM [+] ::

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.

.

day 113

11/30/01

he was here today. he was here
yesterday.

he's respecting my wishes
and staying away.
i'm all right.
it is very~wonderful~yet~
hard
to see him.

for once i'm out of words.

~*~

me: "jason, there's a call on hold
for you. i didn't ask who it is, but
she sounds young and cute."

jason: "perfect. thank you."

.

.

.

11/25/2001

day 108

~*~

"used to be different, now it's the same.
yawn as your plane goes down
in
flames."

-they might be giants

.

.

so clean and clear after the rain.

getting grief &incredulous looks for my decision to drive to kentucky next month.
i guess it is a pretty hefty undertaking. s.m. may come and help drive. that could be
interesting. it feels like the right decision. &i want to see the country. the miles between
here and there, again.

~*~

last night was, unexpectedly, great. amazing how
comfort and invigoration can come from completely unexpected places.
amazing how the world can seem warm and inviting just because of the person
in front of you.
and,
that's
all
i'm going
to
say.

except that yes, he
turns me on.
big time. didn't expect this at all. found myself
standing near him and wanting to
put my lips against his neck. he smelled
good~not in a cologne way. comforting~but also
exciting. keep
thinking about it.....so.....this friday.
something to look forward to...wow. stop.stop stop stop talking about it
scared to jinx it

.

.

.

sometimes you want to hug something to your chest and not talk about it. and just...
wait and see.
and let it warm you
without talking about why
or how.

.

.

.

9pm

day went so fast.

peace
OUT! trippy kewl beans YO!

...just wanted to say that.

.

.

.

11/24/2001

day 107

~*~

if
rationalizations create situations
driven by their own skewed logic
and worlds within worlds rotate on these axes
there's nothing for it but to follow trace-lights
of gestures in space;

well, if i know nothing else,
i do know this.

scott simon sometimes friggin irritates me.

but i do love, i do love
the theme to weekend edition. it makes
me feel so happy and energized.
*yipee!*

about two years ago, i answered
a personals ad. it was placed by a woman
who said she was straight but liked
to play around with girlie-girls. she
described herself as 'a cross between
christy turlington and a young sophia loren.'
her voice on the phone, and her persona, was
really cute and fun. we arranged to meet at
shutters, down by the beach at the end of pico.

it was a cold night, and there were fires
in the fireplaces. as i was sitting waiting for her,
a group of well-dressed middle-aged-to-old black
men, educated-seeming, in quiet good humor, stopped
by the piano, which was right next to me.
they asked the pianist to play, and one of the
men sang with the most amazing, haunting,
passionate and moving voice. it was one of the
most astonishing moments i've known. full of
pure surprise and delight.

My funny valentine/ Sweet, comic valentine;
You make me smile with my heart.

Your looks are laughable, Unphotographable/ Yet, you're my favorite work of art.

Is your figure - less than Greek? Is your mouth - a little weak? When you open it to speak, are you smart?

Don't change a hair for me, Not if you care for me/ Stay, little valentine, stay! Each day is valentine's day.

.

.

.

.

.

11/23

....

people carry atmospheres.
and the atmospheres change.

there was some dark
thing surrounding george.
didn't notice it until i hung
out with him several weeks in a row.
once we had finished updating
each other on our dramas, we had
to deal with our actual vibe
together as we hung out.
and i quickly got the yuck.
i don't know what moment it was that i noticed it.
i'm thinking it was at The Room. that one night.
when he was leaning in to talk over the loud
music and he was talking about what he
always talked about.
how can i get a girl,
how can i get someone
to love me/go out with me/be in a relationship with me.
and he was leaning too close and
i felt a shock of pure distaste
~a shrinking-back~ as if he were
surrounded by a dense black hole,
writhing with violent forces,
and tentacles were reaching for me.
unspeakably gooey, wet, deformed
and rotting tentacles
....
i know that's pure bullshit
but the feeling was so strong,
i fled to the bathroom;

following that, i saw him
a few times, but felt a strong
aversion as soon as i would
actually see him getting out
of the car. a sense of
disappointment at the chasm
between what he seems like/wants to be
and what's underneath. the other layer.
i started finding his jokes not funny
and not wanting to listen to his
tales of woe or give
advice anymore.
or talk about weird
human behavior or ANYTHING.
he just became...

yucky.

months after that
when he had the screaming-fit-out-of-nowhere
after borrowing money from me i saw
that side for the first time actually
come out.

and the friendship is over.

and i'm not sorry about it;
once you get past the icing you
find if there's somewhere further
you can go.

and, no
thank you.

....

another friend. less
extreme case. i'll call her....
judy.

a less extreme amount of that
dark atmosphere. but still,
a tropical depression
surrounded her sometimes.
she prided herself on having a
'normal' life and on not being a
'drama queen.'

but there was
a frightening immobility.
at times i could feel it
on my skin the minute
i would walk into a room
where she was.
in the last year
of our friendship, she
surprisingly loaded a few
jokes with razor blades. it
seemed to happen unconsciously~she
would open her mouth and
out would come hostility disguised as
joking hostility.
i don't know if she got
the yuck for me, but
i definitely got it for her.
anyway, she simply stopped
calling. and i simply stopped
calling. i was the one who left
the last noncommittal message,
several months ago.

we'll probably hook up again
later, or maybe not. but,
i find i have absolutely no
interest
in making any effort at all to
rekindle a friendship right now.

....

another friend got the yuck for me.

he was a guy. craig.
there was a deep, long-term
affection and a long-term attraction,
stronger on my part than on his.
it ended badly when he tumbled
me drunkenly into bed at a vulnerable
time. in the days following
i could see he was getting
a shadow of the yuck.
i reacted with a slew
of furious email and phone
messages.
and crazy don't-leave-our-friendship behavior. and,
he shut down completely.
so, he got the yuck.

i know he was really
my friend, and just got the yuck
...because i wanted/needed something
he couldn't give me; &just being around
me, that pressure was unspoken but part
of the atmosphere.

pressure. people wanting things
from each other, without even
admitting it to themselves.

what did i want from flyboy?

i wanted him to crawl into my womb,
and then i wanted to follow him
so that we both would
disappear into some other
dimension.

what does she want from me? i don't know. but i can feel ~with some subterranean sense~ that it's not something i can give. it's something she needs to give herself, or find for herself. something beyond the surface dynamic.

.

.

.
i just need company. ~a break from it all. an escape. i know i'm on the road to hell. i know i'm not really doing anything about it. wait, where are you going? what do you mean, you don't want to keep on watching this wreck-in-progress?!!

.

.

an online journal i just found: a bunch of lies? who cares, it's interesting.

which brings me to:

do i care about knowing the truth if
the lies are more fascinating? or even...more revealing?

Wednesday, November 14, 2001

Mossour? Your usual taybel?

Just one?

What will you be having tonight?

Mossour? Would you like more light? One candle?

Thank you mossour.

Welcome to the loneliest place on earth. Residing in the dark, I remember how I used to think being nice was the right thing. I pull a rose apart cursing it for fixing itself in my mind as some symbol of undying love. I pour the wine over my head and set fire to myself, hoping for once that the burning sensation of death might for a second mask the pain of a broken heart.

.

.

.

.just saw this blog: the "bagina chronicles" it's called:

:: Kd Lang's Bagina Flappies farted at 9:07 PM [+] :: ...

the scene: kd lang is sitting quietly next to her friend, Ellen DeGeneres, watching 'The View' on the couch.

A huge noise is heard; the house shakes and picture frames filled with Hooters girls fall off the wall.

Ellen DeGeneres: What the hell was that!

Kd: Sorry...I queefed.

Ellen DeGeneres: Gross! I thought you couldn't queef! -strangles kd with hemp-

Kd: Ow! -dies-

-queef is heard, sock rolls out of pants-

:: Bagina Stallion farted at 9:04 PM [+] :: ...

* Farts on Kd Langs Mangina*

:: Kd Lang's Bagina Flappies farted at 8:58 PM [+] :: ...

the scene: high above the Mohavi desert

Kd: I'm so nervous! I never sky dived before! I've only muff dived!

Richard Simmons: You can DO IT! -shove-

Kd: Ahhh! -falls- My cord is wrapped around my engorged mangina!

-hits ground, dies-

-januray copy of maxim magazine rolls out of pants-

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