You’re about to dive into that ocean, Uncle Bobby.
Archive for August, 2006
working on stuff.
Aug 27th, 06
/ 3 Comments
(been hanging on to this for about a month and a half now. not sure what to do with it.)
if I could wrinkle time to find you, I would.
ain’t a thing in the universe could stop me
but the sun
and the sun ain’t nothing but a magnified star
ain’t nothing
but the spiral from god’s navel.
everyday I find myself unravelling
like my skin was candle wax
and only the act of fingertips
would stop the melting.
you.
you’re a dream out there,
’cause in dreams the lovers
never have faces,
a dreamer can’t trace back their ancestry
and the question
sounds like fingerprints on glass.
mystery ain’t nothing
but history not written yet
so if we set ourselves open
maybe we could find our future together.
something about the distance
between the head and the heart
feels like the difference
between waiting and right now,
’cause time ain’t nothing
since we decided to measure it,
and if I could stop measuring time
I’d measure out the beautiful moments
and sprinkle them around
so they could always surprise me.
or surprise you.
I’d pull them out of my pockets
and press them into your palm
to make your fate line parallel to mine.
’cause we got time, you know,
now that we decided to measure it.
maybe time is the treasure chest
like we’d found the X
that marked the spot in the universe where we belong.
’cause the universe ain’t nothing
but a big, slow rubber band.
and who’s to say when the universe
collapses and expands again
we won’t be living this life over?
I’m gonna do myself a favor
and get it right this time
so the me in a billion billion years
won’t have to make tears her currency.
or maybe I’ll be you
and I’ll know where to find who you are.
a story of souls not forgotten.
honestly, I’ll wait for a couple of haley’s comets for your kiss,
a transmission of a heart in supernova,
transposing a million languages into one
’cause if we only have to speak with body heat
then I wanna be binary stars.
I mean I wanna be your heart.
I mean I wanna be holy to you
’cause the only things holding me together
are your breath and your yes.
so hold me
hold me like the rapture was happening
inside our own heartbeats.
’cause this life ain’t nothing
but a freestyle over the breakbeat
god planted in us,
and you make my drum beat so fast
only an Irish reel could outlast that tempo.
they say dance like nobody’s watching,
but I say play.
play like your life was on the line
’cause this is it.
one stage, dancefloor, mic, pen, mind, idea, beautiful.
you.
you with the erased dream-face,
a smeared soul of Picasso perfection,
the angels don’t have time to waste.
since they don’t measure time, they waste nothing.
they’re waiting for us to get it,
get god, get each other, get to the point already.
this ain’t a poem about eyes,
our eyes ain’t nothing
but a trick to get us to give up.
’cause they don’t pop out of my head
when he walks into the room,
so that I can finally see him:
a hummingbird heartbeat,
a butterfly tummy flutter,
a dragon’s breath of heat in my cheeks.
don’t misunderstand me,
imperfections are the perfections I’m looking for,
’cause even if I don’t know your face
I will know you by the morse code
of your fingertips,
a paint brush of lips,
this moment we own like it had our own name.
sweet.
Aug 26th, 06
/ 0 Comments
I have to say, this was a look to the blog I’d been trying to (kinda) do for awhile now, just never got off my ass to either find a template that would be close enough for me to tweak, nor felt motivated enough to write myself. But I got this one tweaked enough that I like it.
For the LJ folks, that would be here.
I also finished the redesign of the rest of the writing part of the site. So that’s good.
And a productive catchup breakfast with MC J-Pants is always, well, informative. In the funniest way possible. Seriously, go read that post about the drunken phone call. For real.
We go.
almost there.
Aug 26th, 06
/ 0 Comments
Working on this new theme, and trying to get some kind of sidebar action going. Hang tight.
well, yeah.
Aug 25th, 06
/ 1 Comment
Just to warn you, this is going to be a realistic kind of post. It’s not meant to garner sorrys or sympathies. I mean, I’d rather you go off and make a donation to the American Cancer Society and live your life than feel bad. For anyone. I don’t say that to be an asshole, I’m just telling you you have better things to do. As do I.
So, Pittsburgh. I don’t think going there will ever be the same again. I mean, let’s be real about it: my uncle is 62 years old. Which isn’t old, but isn’t exactly the age where you can recover from a month of chemo and then another 4 weeks of pinpointed radiation therapy, either. However, overall I felt positive about his immediate outcome.
Let me just get this out of the way: this trip was hard. And I don’t mean that in the sense of just going to the hospital. But my brother and I are the experts here, and we know that look in the O’Connor eyes when shit don’t feel right. I basically had to look into my Dad’s eyes again and tell them that things were going to be okay, even though we both know that those things that are going to be okay won’t be okay for very long.
There’s something about the chemo that just makes people’s eyes glazy and unfocused, and that was hard to watch from someone who was so active just 2 and a half months ago. It’s the kind of look I never, ever, want to have on my face. But knowing that this is probably hereditary is something for another post and won’t get into right now.
My brother Sean and I took the red-eye from Vegas on Sunday night, getting in at close to 7 in the morning on Monday. We dropped our stuff off at the house and went straight to the hospital. Uncle Bobby was to begin his radiation therapy at 9:30 in the morning, so we came in to see him before he went in. It wasn’t pretty. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, but he was sitting up in bed and they were trying to feed him breakfast. Eventually he got to the point where he could brush his teeth, but I think he was trying to show off to Sean and me.
It was hard to be in the quiet room when people were there, when it’s just the harsh breathing of a man who wants to get out of bed, who wants to move his left arm around like a madman and can’t, who can’t keep his eyes open because he’s just so tired. 5 years ago we saw the same thing on a younger brother.
Jet lag and sleep dep and fear mixed together makes me totally unsure what to do with myself. When my brother would talk to him, he kept asking for me. I didn’t want to be asked for. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want it to be happening. The deja vu was real.
The other 3 days were non-stop, visiting family, going to Sandcastle, celebrating cousin Corey’s 22nd birthday, staying at cousin Heidy’s house, going to a prayer service at City Hall, going to the hospital. I didn’t have time to really process anything at all. Even today with enough sleep, I’m trying to adjust to West Coast time and clean the house, and writing this entry I can’t really process everything. Just little bits at a time.
And there’s him. I came home to him a wreck, and he whispers in the dark that I’m beautiful. And I walk the line everyday between believing it and not knowing what to do with that information. And to paraphrase Tori-cum-Death, I should feel better armed with that. I feel like I’m not doing enough, and I don’t know what to do in myself to make that better. But he tells me I’m doing fine. And he’s done things for me that should’ve been done long ago– and yet that feeling of being perpetually late doesn’t fucking matter. I’m happy, and yet I can’t be completely except when it’s just us. Things I’ve never been through before. But this is the only life I get, and we go.
I will post poetry soon. Promise.
i swear.
Aug 25th, 06
/ 0 Comments
I’m going to actually update and write a post. Give me a minute. I need to get some stuff done first.
In a nutshell: things have changed.
BPE, where you at? I sent you an email last week.
instead of updating, there’s this.
Aug 20th, 06
/ 0 Comments
Austin was a lot of fun, looking back on it a week later. And now coming home and knowing there’s support feels good to me. I have a positive outlook on this season.
I have a couple of poems to post. Maybe while I’m in Pittsburgh.
And here’s why I’m posting. This trip scares the fuck out of me. Especially seeing articles like this. It’s just my brother and me going this time, and I can tell he’s probably more afraid than I am.
Because really, it’s just like Dad all over again. 5 and a half years have gone by and it doesn’t feel any different. It’s just that now we’re a thousand miles away from it all. I hate having to go home to my cousins and all we’re going to be talking about is how this was just like Dad, or that was exactly what happened to us. And what’s worse for them is that it’s in the public eye.
Helplessness is the most horrible feeling a human can feel, in my opinion. It’s not about control. It’s about when to just let it go. And while he’s still hanging on, I’m not letting go. I can’t. It’s too early.
Just about done being sick. It’s gonna take probably another week before I’m 100%. But it feels good to have my head back again.
The nephews are playing in the other room. I’m gonna go be the cool Auntie Kari that I am.
yuck.
Aug 15th, 06
/ 0 Comments
So the whole reason I’m not posting? I’m sick. And I hate it. A lot.
more later.
Aug 12th, 06
/ 0 Comments
I will write about going to see Sage Francis and Jared Paul and Buddy Wakefield tonight, and how those beautiful people relate to myself. And I will try to have links.
Right now? More about being in the moment. And I’m getting a little sick. Like, in the lungs sick. And I don’t want to be a little sick. Not even a little.
