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 106
friday november 23, 2001
6pm
~*~
guess what i just discovered.
i just discovered that i've had my sweatpants ~*~
thanksgiving at gary's was actually great.
somewhere between settled-and-domestic and young-in-l.a.
they sent me home with leftovers, too. that makes it, like, a real thanksgiving. leftovers.
.
.
not drinking.
so i have to face a mix of assorted, conflicting, dizzyingly exhausting feelings. my soul has had & is hovering, watching, observing while my body does the things i tell it it must do.
things are better. my mind not wrung out from pursuit of dreams.
but still vibrating. from it. from him. from all of it.
. ....cut my hair. too short. but a better cut. .
.
.
day 105
thursday november 22, 2001
happy thanksawad.
~*~ talked to steve last night. i asked him what he would be doing.
'nothing,' he said. 'no one wants me around because i'm broke.'
'what about your mom and your sisters?' i asked.
'they didn't invite me,' he said.
'what about your dad?'
'oh,' he said, 'they're not speaking to me. i asked his wife if she'd still be with him without his money. she couldn't answer.'
'are you doing anything with your girlfriend?' i asked.
'no,' he said. 'things are really bad.'
'have you talked to larry and chuckie?' i asked him.
'they're not my friends anymore. i don't want to talk about it,' he said.
.
.
happy angstgiving.
.
.
talked to the fam today. the house was my brother says he can't wait to get 'soused' with he has a young boxer dog that he brought back from school. dad was talking about how the family dog, babe, is getting worn out by the boxer's energy.
i asked dad how the cat liked the boxer.
'hm,' dad said, 'i haven't seen the cat for a few days.'
.
.
tomorrow
i clean.
scrape away the creeping skeege that's slowly coating surfaces in my apartment. splash chemicals into the crevasses. pine sol, ajax, tilex, windex. if only i had some mindex.
if only i could blast oxygen into the far corners of my brain cells. pressure-wash the cognitive pipelines. flush out the god-forsuckin gack.
.
.
vegetarian 'turkey'.....tofurkey.
funny word. rhymes with my name.
we went to albuquerque for tofurkey. and then .
.
.
day 104
wed. november 21, 2001
'blow up your tv. throw away your paper, ~*~
4:45 pm
BOTH PEOPLE HAVE TO WANT SOMETHING.
god, these past few days i'm realizing that so
yucky.
the energy is bad. it feels incomplete. ~uneasy. you just want the other person to step up,
it's sad
but it's really true. you can't take two minuses and make a plus.
feels like in order to be healthy, for my mind to be right, i have to break free. out of the ick. out of the place where i have to restrain myself from expressing annoyance.
anyway. it's awful. when someone needs too much from you and is trying to fill the hole.
oh.
speaking of filling the hole....(hehehe)
last thanksgiving.
i had a urinary tract infection.
got the antibiotics and a thermometer. headed foggily out of the parking lot. rolled slightly at the exit to the street, and bumped into the car in front of me.
i got out of my car and apologized. the driver of the car was husky, black, and angry. she said:
i drove home to malibu where i was to have thanksgiving dinner with ed. when i got home, i called my father in ohio and told him the story. and unexpectedly became completely hysterical. great heaving sobs and wails.
ed had prepared a turkey dinner. for the first time in his 89 years, he had cooked a turkey. followed the directions on the bag. and produced a wonderful, somewhat dry roasted turkey.
so i went down to the little shack
and buried myself that's what i've been i guess i'm still sad at not being invited to the service. i don't know why they didn't want me to come. i don't know if i could have controlled myself, though.
it's so weird about ed. i was slightly nervous of getting too close to him, because he was another person who needed more than i could give him. he missed phyllis. after spending his life with her, he was lost; like half a person. and i was the only female around. he just needed that feminine energy and affection. i tried to hug him and clasp his hand as often as possible. but i was wary of getting too close~feeling like things could get weird. i'm not
doing
a danged thing as always feeling that melancholy/weird ring dem bells.
.
.
.
.
.
.
california....
there's a girl who sits on the lawn she's been sitting there every day for and all she does is sit there.
....then,
when i drove to malibu to go to the pharmacy, .
.
'give me back my pots and pans, 'if i said the way he looks at me ~*~
day 103
tuesday nov. 20, 2001
my problem....
i can't stand to be alone this day.
the most lovely
so far this year.
smoky-blue
silver-edged
light over everything.
distant sun. cool and sleepy.
it feels
in another century.
.
.
from city news service....
LOS ANGELES (CNS) - Dancing naked in public is not a crime in
unincorporated Los Angeles County -- yet.
...."I'M WARREN OLNEY."
...heheh
my body wants this, my body wants that.
it wants quarts of cool grapefruit juice. and sections of orange. it wants to walk for miles and glow with cool sweat. it wants to sleep until 9am. it wants to get up at 5 and feel the day hovering in the immediate future. it wants to eat loads of vegetables and walk lightly two inches above the ground. it wants a pound of rare red meat and a quart of irish whiskey for dinner. it wants to feel the snow biting my ears. it wants to feel the fire warming my stocking feet. it wants the sun beating down on my bare arms. it wants to lie in a bathtub in the dark. it wants to dive into a pile of silk sheets. it feels a rhythm when he's near, and wants to answer it. it wants to arch itself up toward the ceiling and lose itself to the night. it wants to be free of the underground rivers of blood. it wants to be like a clean arrow, free of desire. it wants .
.
.
AP-CA--Greedy Thief
Car thief gets greedy -- and gets caught
(Windsor-AP) -- A car thief got greedy. Then he got caught.
That's the word today from Sonoma County Sheriff's officers who say they got a call yesterday from a Windsor man reporting his car stolen from outside his office.
The car owner managed to get home to get some information for officers, only to find his own car parked in his driveway. Noises were coming from inside his house.
Windsor officers and sheriff's deputies began a search, and arrested Joseph McDonald as he tried to flee.
McDonald told the sheriff's department he liked the Dodge Durango and, after breaking in, found the owner's address and phone number. He called the number, found no one home, so decided to head over.
OOPS!!!
...how the light
maybe
he's reading this
maybe
he misses me
maybe
he'll agree
to
let me spend a month in 31 days.
there's a guest bedroom maybe
he'll go for it.
maybe
i'll grow
another
arm.
.
.
.
well, i know this. i mean it.
spent too damn long 'i hate mom.'
even if i think out!
scat!
BOOGERS ON YOU!!!BOO!
gaaaaaaah.
.
.
.
day 102
monday nov. 19, 2001
~*~
thought for the day.
"a pie in the eye yeah
kevin spacey is never heard from the mysterious afghanistan.
i don't know. come the fuck on.
now what happens. it's a chance to but let's not
back-to-work monday
.
.
.
people are like going too scared to fly.
too scared.
really scared.
so i'll get and
burning bush in wintertime.
always loved lights on snow.
.
.
day101 sunday nov. 18,2001
~*~
finally saw K-PAX.
jeff bridges and kevin spacey thrilled me. ~*~
~*~
today is a long day. in the traffic center. a traffic center sunday holed up in the high rise. thinking metro/shadow studios are on the fifth floor of the petersen building on wilshire. (just down from larry
flynt's h.q.) a couple of weeks ago when we had the 4.5'er, i was on the air giving a traffic report. the whole building that earthquake did no damage. it was interesting, and not in a good way, to feel what so in my cold little narrow-walled fluorescent-lit mole hole from hell i will sit and talk into a microphone the way he smelled, he smelled so delicious.
so it's past the hundred-day mark.
and i'm doing okay. better, actually. little by little i can feel my mind assuming seeing him was strange. but not hard; not really. he's respecting my space. i was happy to see his car, i am happy to see him, i am deathly afraid to ever talk to him again,
beyond hello, because i can't hear about his life without me. so we say hello, and that is it. and that is all there can be. because i can't hear anything .....let's
call him flyboy.
had the thought
that maybe he was the anonymous emailer.
mdtweezer.
--who sent this web address to ray, after i wrote that was before i modified this site, rendering inaccessible a lot anyway. i thought flyboy might have sent the message to him. here's why.
i guess i thought he maybe wanted to help nudge my lovelife in a more productive/hopeful direction,
also, i questioned all the friends i gave the address to. all said they had given the so for a few days i entertained the idea that flyboy might have done it.
but ultimately i rejected the idea. because ~ though i said on the site that ray is *hot*,
so i don't think he would do it. because i think he genuinely does care about me, and would silently but then.....then..i don't know who it is. it is bugging me. that there is an anonymous person out there,
either wanting (misguidedly) to help (but then couldn't le fly have been misguided? no--i reject that too--he's
so who is it?
mdtweezer, i wish you'd come forward. i was spooked at the anonymous reply, and the person then well, mdtweezer, if you're reading this, i'd really appreciate an answer to the mystery. at first i liked but~~~but~~~another thing here: self-revealing art. you leave yourself open to the whackos if you display yourself like this; so.
i will continue to publish right here.
for now i'll keep those other pages under wraps though.
i'll restore the archives later.
okay. now i've seen everything.vegetable porn.
.
.
so....
did ray read the site?
don't know. he trashed the email.
but then he royally flaked on the party friday night. it's too bad. i liked him. . he's yummy. i don't it's too bad *had fantasies about what it might be like to wrap my arms around .
.
.
on BACKWARD all day.
too much exercise
feels
cool and
easy....though not vigorous.
can't deny that. but, it is assuming a manageable place. the vibration is not the greater part of my day. it's there, though.
full of relatives.
me when i come home. i reminded him that we might have 'The Gene' for alcoholism. 'yeah,' he said, and then went on to talk affectionately about how we'll just have one...or two...or three...or four.
we went
beserkey.
move to the country, build you a home.
have a lot of children.
eat a lot of peaches.
try and find jesus on your own.'
-john prine
more than ever. as miserable as it is to be on the rejection end, it sucks to be on the retreating end too.
it's an energy balance.
be happy, whole, occupied, interested in things and engaged, emotionally and psychologically, in LIFE. and yet he/she has a yawning gaping hole inside that's sucking the life away from him/her.
the result of a two-hour pounding from le fly. --never been split in half quite like that before.
anyway, i was sick from it. didn't get it treated for several weeks and finally got a fever, &general dizzy icks. so after work i went to the 24-hour drugstore at 26th and santa monica.
"you're sorry? you're SORRY? what do you mean YOU'RE SORRY!!!! I'LL GIVE YOU SORRY!!!"
she pointed to
her bumper, which was slightly scratched, and yelled, "that's not sorry!!! look at that! THAT'S NOT SORRY!"
i stood there dumbfounded while she yelled, trying to clear the fog in my head.
it was foggy outside, too. a foggy, chilly night.
she kept yelling and worked herself further into self-righteous fury. "what are you, STUPID? what were you DOING?" she yelled. i told her i was sick and reached for something in the seat and my foot came off the brake.
"oh great, your FOOT CAME OFF THE BREAK." she continued. the parking lot was empty. there was no one around except for a chinese man, who stopped to watch; either out of curiosity, or worry for my safety. "WHAT ARE YOU L0OKING AT? GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" she yelled at him. he continued to linger on the sidewalk.
meanwhile, i stood there bundled in my sweater, miserably trying to think.
finally she took the drivers license and the insurance papers i handed her and wrote down my information. i was too rattled to get any information
from her.
something about being yelled at pokes some button in my brain. something going back to the horrors of childhood persecution by a crazy-woman. i bawled for about half an hour.
he had carefully laid the table for the two of us. jeffrey was in the phillipines, exploring the possibilities of founding a surf camp. so ed prepared rice, salad, warmed some bread, and a gravy boat filled with dark brown gravy from a mix.
he had put candles on the table and poured himself a glass of whiskey when i finally made it up to join him.
i sat and looked at his wonderful spread with my bleary red eyes. and thought, i cannot eat, now.
and so i asked him if we could eat lunch the next day, instead. poor ed was so sweet about it, saying, "of course. of course. you're shaken up. go and relax and settle down at home. don't worry about it."
in my bed under my covers and quietly
vibrated from the weird volcano of horror
that had come up out of the murky depths.
buried my face in the pillows.
burrowed deep &murmured comforting things
to myself.
we had our thanksgiving the next day, me and ed.
thinking about, today.
so i'm kind of sorry about that,
even though it was the only thing to do.
well, ed,
happy thanksgiving, guy.
damn, i wish i believed in an afterlife.
remotely thanksgiving-like.
i'm going to work
and then go out for drinks with
a lovely guy friend. a friend-friend.
and that's it.
holiday funk.
in front of the burger king during the
middle of the day.
---months. a busy intersection. pico and
20th. ...just right by the sidewalk
in front of the burger king. i think she
started sitting there this summer. she
became very sunburned....
the weird thing is: she's cute. she looks
normal. dresses ~cool. kind of
trendy.
i spotted heather locklear on the sidewalk
across from the shopping center at pt. dume.
rocks and salt,
gin and fruit.
take me where the grass is high,
and savage to its bitter root.'
-joe henry
doesn't make me want to undress
if i said i could leave you now
and go where i could forget
i'd be lying.'
-sam phillips
or with others, that's what my
problem is...
like
we're in
another
country.
to pray again with you.
looks today:
his bed. arrive at night.
leave in the morning.
in case of sleeplessness.
i'm in this 700 days thing
for real.
even if those thoughts are
flitting through my mind,
i've got no intention of
cheating
rationalizing
blowing the deal
screwing the pooch
turning into
a pillar
of salt.
in the backlash of
of him a lot.
out, you ghosts
!!!!!!!
out! out!
out you visions
of his
reluctant smile!
is worth two in the sky."
-uncle jerry
sooooooooooooo foooooooooking cooooooooooo
mdtweezer.
going to have to assume
it was friendly fire and not
threatening whacko activity;
the taliban is best gone.
that's clear. they suckified
the whole region. no tv? no
music?
?????
stop being so
arrogant and work with
the rest of the world.
come on, bushie.
let's ease off the bombs
as ap.
i don't know.
i don't understand
military strategy.
all i really think is,
fine. boot the fucking taliban.
i just
can't
argue
with that.
let their replacements
be just as bad.
oh yeah, and get the
terrorists. get the
evildoers.
*sigh*
energy fields.
powerful entities.
combinations of people~~~
sometimes magical
sometimes terrible
charging each other.
draining each other.
how to maintain a relationship
through the cycles?
i need the energy
of the world.
soak it in. new energies.
new signals. new minds.
there's always more to be seen
and known.
but familiar routines are
comforting.
i could track the same
old roads into someone's arms
through the years, i think.
to
drive
this holiday season.
i admit it.
always scared.
now...
to see
the country.
take baths in
hotels.
in the middle
of
nowhere.
i guess
they're just about as damned cool
as they come.....
very damned cool that is.
slugging coffee from my metro mug. sucked into the computer screen. hour after hour. world without
end. digging deeper and deeper into the forever crapland within.
thinking.typing.more thinking.
suddenly jolted sharply to the right. i wondered whether to keep giving the report, or dive under the desk.
an earthquake is like in a high rise. the walls of the building kind of creak.
all day today. by the end of the day my muscles will be cramped, my mind burned with printed words, eyes throbbing from the 8-hour cold-fire wash of phosphors from the computer monitor. then i will go home and enjoy the fact that the walls around me are not
pressing down
relentlessly. 7 foot by 7 foot by 9 foot high pale-blue carpeted semi-soundproofed walls. when i'm free of them,
the night air seems so delicious, makes me want to throw back my head and kiss little breezes as they
drift in the car window. fall spice. dead leaves. hint of smog. restaurant smells.
that was what really hooked me;
a better shape. one that's not distorted by anxiety about when the next rejection might
be coming, or aching from a rejection that's already come. not caught in a cycle
of closeness and coldness.
on one level
i feel irresistably drawn, curious, thrilled that he is in the other studio and that i can see him over there.
then there's an underlayer of dread and bitterness. wondering who he's seeing, who he's with, who
he's kissing, what infatuative waves he might be riding, whether there's a deep love tossing him
on delicious rides between blessed connectedness and aching doubt.
can't hear about it. can't hear it.
can't, can't, can't.
any
more.
kim dubbed him flyboy a long time ago for his comings and goings. i hate calling him 'him.' and
i can't use his name here. flyboy it will be. --he would hate it, because of the trivial connotations of the name.
but, he did earn it; so there.
on the site that i thought ray was 'hot.'
of emotional, yearning, tender rants about flyboy. ray is flyboy's sound engineer, by the way;
because i think he --though not wanting a relationship with me--genuinely cares about me and
wants me to be happy. and i thought, maybe he sent the link to ray so ray would read the entry and
see that i was 'hot' for him. and maybe feel encouraged.
kind of, you know, as a silent signal of goodwill.
address to
no one; so that ruled out random unknowns;
and the idea of someone finding the site, figuring out who i am from the occasional clues
referring to the radio station or the types of programs...it seemed very remote.
a lot of it is about flyboy, and getting over him. and flyboy, for all his faults, is subtle enough to
know that that information would be disturbing and potentially very destructive to any budding friendship
between me and ray.
hope for the best, but not interfere.
too smart to think giving ray the u.r.l. would help.)
deactivated his or her account. maybe it's an ex girlfriend of his; maybe he gave out the web address; maybe
it's someone who knows who i am and has some kind of motivation to stir up the waters.
the idea of a silent player. but that was when i was kind of thinking it was him. now it creeps me out.
let's say i want traffic to this site, i want visitors, i want to put my insides
on display. a daily tour through my gloriously BENT world.
which is what he did with his show.
&hurt me so often. because he nakedly revealed strong emotions
&they were never for me.
selective reporting. what do you leave in and what do you leave out?
that's a risk i'll have to take.
i don't want to be intimidated mdtweezers
out there.
know if he liked me.
but now it doesn't matter.
flaky makes me looney. flaky flips the obsessive switch to 'on.' flaky is good
when it's a buttery golden-browned pie crust brushed with egg whites.
flaky is good when it's chicken and broccoli in a dijon cream sauce, wrapped in oven-gold filo dough.
falling apart in your mouth.
but flaky men...give me...emotional dandruff. messy white chips on my shoulder
for all the world to see.
gonna wash that man right outta my hair, gonna wash that man...
his very nice
shoulders. it was an entertaining area of speculation for a while. *oh well. oh well.*