Everyone

I just had a thought. In our every day lives we are so many things to so many other people. The woman I am in bed with a lover, the woman I am with my friends, the woman I am at work, the woman I am as a writer, the woman I am as daughter, aunt, sister, cousin..... and I feel that facebook makes me feel kinda schizo sometimes. I just want to be me -- the basis to all of those facets of me. I want to be all of those women at once and end the splintering. I want to put my best foot forward and chose my words carefully but I also want to be failed, ugly, scarred, wanton, reckless. I want to say that society doesn't allow it. That modesty and a failed sense of privacy prevents it. But I think it's just me. Me being fearful and afraid of what others would say.

Maybe in 2009 I will make an attempt to be that amalgam of roles all at once. To not censor myself. To maintain a strong center, to work on non-swaying, non-swerving values. Maybe I'm not ready, actually. I don't think my core is that strong or mature. Hmm. Baby steps.

The question I struggle with -- is it bravery or is it exhibitionism? Is it honesty or is it vanity? Narcissm or a need to share, to stop splintering, to just.... be?

Bachelor #1

I've been talking about it for awhile. But now, after receiving the following email I have indeed decided that it's time to start writing the book about all the horrible dates/horrible men that I've endured in my quest to find "Mr. Right." I think I'll do one every few days. Maybe if I get enough I'll put together a book. But for now... yeah. I wonder why I'm still single and then I realize oh yeah.... I'm a crazy magnet. Lucky me.

So yeah. Here's Bachelor #1 --

I'm too lazy to edit, so enjoy. It was in response to a personal ad.

Heya, my name is Paul. I'm a 25 year old full-time student and mover/census agent/delivery driver/demolitionist/constructionist/paintist/whatever-I-woke up-this-morning-thinking-I-could-get-paid-doing-er/ist. I was on CL posting my room share and am making my first foray into the personals I've heard so many interesting stories about. I live in E. Williamsburg--Mwahaha... sorry, Bushwick, but that's not half as ridiculous and hilarious if you ask me-- on the Ridgewood border. I love writing, music, and people, not in that I find most people to be good or even decent, but in that all people are interesting, have their own unique set of experiences and things to share.

Passionate, sensual, psychological, experimental sex. Generosity. Taking care of each other. That late night call, the conversation before falling asleep, that hug when the world is kicking your ass, that feeling that someone's got your back anytime, any place." I totally agree with you on this definition. We're young (forever, in my case... in the -at-heart kinda way, not the Tuck Everlasting kinda way), and we live in a city that's constantly in flux, I think all of those people clinging to rural. find a partner and be miserable with them for the rest of your life idea of love are fooling themselves, especially here. Love is something we all have to give, and should choose to share as often as possible with a person who's willing to do the same, for as long as both parties are ENJOYING each others' company.

Anyway, I could go on forever (I write, it's what I do....) but I'd like to be sure you're real and reading this. So... if you are the beautiful and interesting individual whose ad I'm replying to, give me a holler. It's a stay in and watch the snow Saturday, and those are always better shared. I'm not in Williamsburg, but I am just a few stops away on the L, and I own a car (a 94 Grand Marquis former limo named Layla who you must not be jealous of, for she is and will always be my first love [chronologically]), so distance is no object.

My response:

Hey Paul....

Did you manage to get out tonight?

I'm very very hungover and lying on my couch watching tv trying not to use my brain to full capacity and thought I'd write ya.

But one thing -- I grew up on a farm in a rural setting -- not everyone there believes in staying in a bad marriage --- was kinda confused by that comment, actually lol. And sometimes being in a relationship isn't always fun, ya know? I think, at that stage, it's about finding someone that you want to be with and fight with and fight for. But anyway, I digress.....

His response:

There has to be a basis to digress FROM for it to be digressing. But I put just one line of crazy bait in there and WOW! You went right for it! And that right there is how a writer checks if you're totally insane. Might wanna see someone about that.

My response:

I'm totally insane because as someone from a rural setting I didn't like having where I'm from classified one way? I would have picked up on it if you had said anything about anyone from a "rural" setting. It's a common city misconception that everyone from the country is backward and stupid and such. But based on your response to my quite innocent comment, I obviously shouldn't worry myself too much with what you think. What I said back had nothing to do with my "craziness." It was a response to a strangely chosen word -- which, as a writer (an actual published writer) I found interesting and was attempting to start a dialogue to see why exactly you had picked that word.

That was a really immature and cruel response. But at least I got to see right away that someone who is that mistrusting, that close minded, that judgemental and immature is not waste my time.

Oh and if having a healthy attitude about love, dedication, devotion, commitment, family, and marriage makes me crazy so be it.

Persephenous Blue (draft)

I wish I could reach inside
No pain, no blood
just open up my gut
and poke in and about

I want to hold my liver
up to the light and run
my fingers over its flesh
I want to make sure it is
alright and healthy
and only perhaps slightly
exfoliated by drink

And if only I could hold my
breath and pull out my lungs
Exhale into them
bronchia to lips
papery flimsy balloons
See if there is brown or
burn or tumor
Hold them to my ear
like conch and shell
ask them to excuse
one more cigarette

Lower, lower, low
Small and god-given
Ovaries in hands
Hold them to my cheek
pearl-like, delicate
And then I shrink
permeate
and I begin to count
I begin to inspect
I am persephonous
I am blue
I am nosy and erratic
I scream, I pull but not too hard
I juggle, I embrace
I hold you, egg, I smash you, egg
A gasp, a cough
it's time to go
softly drop, settle
bounce and swaddle
I grow, I leave

Sutures
Endless sutures
I lie and groan and sew
returning my potential
deep inside the dark
deep inside the murk
the mush, the blood, the gore
deep into the meat and sinew and bone
that is me and give it up
give it up
forever, for now

Obese (draft)

Gravity likes me
As I grower bigger
And stronger downward
It pulls.
I joke, I say
Stairs are my natural enemy
but as I climb
Thirty-year old joints
Grind, emit dust
swell and contract
breathless, I want to
condense and fade
and slither and drip
drop drip drop
like water back to the bottom
and pool.

I explain with a half smile
that the fat in my lower
back presses against my spine
and I blush as I confess
that I think the weight has
compressed my nerves
and leaves my pelvis
thrust forward, my body
leans and grooves in weird
positions and as I lie
awake at night I imagine
white fatty caulk filling in
the spaces between vertebrae
and swear I can feel this
oozing and liquifying of
my bones.

Thin is an adjective
but fat is a noun.
I am not me, I am fat.
I am not human, I am fat.
I am twice, thrice the size of who
I perhaps was supposed to be
and of the size of the girl
he left me for

The universe sometimes slides
into my pores when I'm not
looking and pump pump pump
fills me up, inhales, inflates
and I fill and I float
above you all then crashed
dragged, wrestled by gravity
and you see the girl stumbling
out of the tavern bathroom
smeared mascara, nicotine breath
she wears ballerina flats
easier on her ankles but
as she slides onto her stool
next to her beautiful and slender
friend she knows she is the ugly
duckling with open spaces
invaded and perceived
and needs to lose a hundred pounds
before she can again wear heels
without the fear of falling
down.

January Events

Happy New Year!

I wanted to write you all to let you know about some upcoming events I have this month.

Monday, January 12th @ 7:30 pm

The Second Coming of the Stained Glass Confessional

A night of music & poetry

Stain Bar
766 Grand Street, WIlliamsburg Brooklyn


Featuring:

Lawrence Fredericks
James Skidmore
Janice Brabaw
Joe Yoga
Leland Sundries

Hosted by James Kass

FREE


Friday, January 16th 6:30 PM
Tales From The Naughty List

Otto's Shruken Head

538 E. 14th Street NYC NY

Get Coal In Your Stocking This Year?

Come hear tales of your fellow sinners in this night of baudy, tawdry, and downright naughty literature, comedy, spoken word, dancing, and music.

Hosted by Janice Brabaw, Author of Universe, Disturbed and Former Phone Sex Girl

Featuring James Kass, Angel Thompson Georges, and Dig My Grave!


Monday, January 26th 8 pm
The Library Lounge
Biweekly Poetry and Prose at Telephone Bar

Telephone Bar
149 2nd Avenue @ 9th Street NYC NY
FREE!

I have been asked to read with three other poets. There's no cover. I hope you can all come!

Prudence Wright Holmes
Andrea Dangelis
Joel Allegretti
Janice Brabaw

New Publication

Just an FYI.

"Moshe" is being published in the latest edition of Poesis #2.

I knew something was being picked but wasn't sure what.

Excitement!

Sweet Jesus.

I am going to be 30 years old in March.

I just realized I have never been in a relationship with a man over the age of 24.

No wonder I can't find anyone!