I’m not yet the person
I need to be
To have a good partner, because
I’m not yet the person
I need to be
To be a good partner.
Tag: Emotions
John Prine
John Prine died today. He was my first concert. He wrote every song I love that I don’t remember who wrote. He wrote this poem, too, but he wrote it through me. I’ll miss him. One day I’d like to see him again.
I had a feeling I could be someone.
You’ll only feel by listening
to the same song,
but none better than the downtown boy
with hair like Dylan
accepted to Yale when I was
but dropped out
and now plays to a Farmers’ market audience–
an empty picnic blanket and me.
At 24 years old,
he looks more like twelve
and sings folk like a wizened bluesman.
Will he go anywhere
or stay in Fairfax forever,
wearing the same uncool shoes
as the classmate I bullied in 4th grade.
If America’s misfits come to San Francisco
and SF’s go to Oakland,
where do Oakland’s go?
We’re only fifteen miles north of The City,
but you can believe in the stars having a plan for you
and we’ll still believe in you.
If you move too quick,
you hit the speed of loneliness
like a too-fast car,
breaking the sound barrier,
collapsing into yourself,
emptying out.
We all feel that way.
Some of us become.
We all pass away.
Travel Log 191022 (Redacted Version)
Start: [Redacted], Pflugerville, TX
End: [Redacted], Pflugerville, TX
Delicious Delectables:
- Mac & Cheese for dinner. ‘CAUSE I’M AN ADULT.
- Sous vide steak leftover from yesterday. <- Very Adult.
- 3 Lindor Lindt White Chocolate Truffle balls. ‘CAUSE I’M AN ADULT.
Quotent Quotables:
- [Nay, nein, nopes!]
Real Realizations:
- Emotions can come out via dreams, too! And be satisfied in a real way.
- I enjoy staying in one place for a while. Meeting people and immersing in their day-to-day life before moving on.
- This trip is about understanding different cultures. I haven’t seen any of Austin (any!), but I’ve spent time living with a family and loving it!
[Redacted]
- [Redacted].
- [Redacted].
- [Redacted].
Exciting Events:
- Woke up late. Had some caffeine at 9:30am, then slept until noon.
- Between 9:30am and noon, had a very strong emotional processing via dream. Felt like processing some very strong negative feelings about [redacted]. Spoke in babytalk in the dream in a really strong, healing way, like the childish wonder was spreading over the terrible feelings.
- Walked Smidge in the morning.
- Wrote up a report on my experience of Myschevia.
- Clocked 2 hrs into [redacted].
- Sent a joke to my improv group’s texting group. Enjoyed making & sharing it. They riffed on it, too.
- Called [redacted]. He talked about his depression and how his father abused him. Enjoyed helping him talk through it.
- Shared my methods for countering depression with him. Helpful, they seemed, and fun 🙂
Alluring Activities:
- Catching up with work. ALL CAUGHT UP SOON.
- Daily meetings at 11 and 1. That means [redacted] on weekdays! Woot woot! [redacted] Hooray!
The day I decided to trust myself.
On following others:
School is following others. Culture instills following others. Corporations, countries, and organizations require following others. Following others is not for the individual. It’s for the safety of the herd.
On freedom and the individual:
I need the freedom to express. I need the freedom to explore. I need the freedom to create. These are only taught by the world’s best teachers. Learn to learn from yourself or risk living someone else’s version of your life.
The Fiercest Chihuahua You’ve Ever Met
In this corner, at five-pound-four and thirty inches long, she’s the fiercest chihuahua you’ve ever met. She defends her food with the courage of a Rottweiler. She’s a fierce mama bear with six gnawed nipples to prove it. She marks giants’ territory as her own and likes her scritches… ruff.
Ladies and Gentlemen…
The one and only…
Smidge
Want more Smidge? Comment with a request.
Musician Needed!
Just cut these lyrics from my first album. The friend I’m recording with prefers making music from sound (not from lyrics or structure), so these shan’t go on the album. Still, when I shared them lyrics with a friend, she said, “There are some absolutely stunning moments,” so I thought I’d put them out in the open. If you’re musically inclined and curious, would love to hear what you might do with them sonically. (And if you have suggestions of how you’d change elements, please let me know!)
Song #1: You’ll Never Be Home Again
Sittin’ out here
Drinkin’ a beer,
Sky’s become clear,
My fear nearing,
Endearing
That you’ll never be home again.
Rounding that bend
Ended a friend,
Sending us rended and tender, amended
By a problem we’ll never mend.
But I still miss you
Not to kiss you
Simply to list the missed Sisyphus trysts you
Caressed with your wrists.
Undressing the pissed misty mornings of horny,
The warnings I foreswore.
You get what you want.
And never a thought for what ought to be
Safe or unwavering labor.
Controlling your world.
Squeezing that girl
Into a picture
Perfect
hearseless
first verse
that cursed her.
This sunset on hills
Gives me the chills
Missin’ your thrills and your pills
That still make me ill.
But I still miss you.
In distance I list you
As one of the greatest
sadists
I hated.
But I still miss you.
And pissy, I kissed you
I was a weak and meek
seeker that needed
some closure you own.
So you made me moan
Not with delight but a fright of the bright lights
That’s all you’ve done.
Now that you’ve won.
You ruined the son of my father who bothered
To let his dad die.
I must ask why?
Why do you end those around you, add frowns to…
You unholy beast.
I miss you the least
that I could miss anyone I once loved and still do.
I can’t close doors.
I keep wanting more.
Song #2: Untitled Song for College Grads (still being written, 2 verses to go.)
Graduatin’ mainstreet, aimin’ at fame street.
Someone clue me into those celebrities I can’t meet.
I’m an artist, just got out of school.
Lookin’ for a way to make a splash in the pool.
Hey there kiddo, can I borrow your soul?
Cause I can get you into the city of gold.
You said you’re a painter? Musician? A writer?
Work with me a few years, your life’ll be brighter.
So I got a workin’, sixteen hours a day
For plenty of perks and boatloats of pay.
Bain, BCG, don’t remember the name.
Coulda been ‘banking.’ Whatever, it’s lame.
Don’t sell your soul to the devil, friends—
The trouble and the toil ain’t worth the ends
Do what you love and do it for pay,
You’ll be a better person at the end of the day.
Been livin’ in the city and don’t love the rent.
Might as well buy. That’s money well spent.
Started seein’ someone, they just moved in.
Now we’re startin’ talkin’ ‘bout poppin’ out kin.
I’ll match your retirement and give parental leave.
Send you trav’ling to hotels. There’s nothing up my sleeve.
Your friends all sip champagne, proudly showing comp’ny pride
Come day-drink on my yacht and I’ll take you for a ride.
Don’t sell your soul to the devil, friends—
The trouble and the toil ain’t worth the ends
Do what you love and do it for pay,
You’ll be a better person at the end of the day.
How You Learn, an Explanation
From The Dialogues:
Stood Up, Standing Down
I daydreamed about her all day. She stood me up.
We agreed she would call shortly after 10pm. At 11:15, I call her. She says she’ll call me back by 1am. 2:52 and still no call.
I feel like a seventeen-year-old British woman out of Jane Austen, leaning on the windowsill, complaining to her cat:
And I told him, too. I told him I’d be gazing wistfully, like all the proper ladies do in the books. He must have known he had my heart to break.
He broke a promise. He tallies his emotional work of writing a letter at more than my hurt feelings. What price would that fetch for half of me?
The breakage will heal, but in a hard and crusty scar that prevents the next lover going so deep.
We must inform him it hurts my future husband and me, and insist he be more careful with hearts in the future.
This post was inspired by the song Mis, sent by my friend Omri. What song would you want me to write on? Link it in the comments.
“Thwack!” goes my head, pummeling the van door.
“Thwack!” goes my head, pummeling the van door.
See bright spots of light. Can’t balance no more.
Closed out my phone call, “I love you. Uh, bye.”
Stumbled to my knees, my head hanging high.
Called my chum Em’ly, the reason I’m here
Coordinated as if drunk on beer.
“I’ll call you in ten,” she said and hung up,
so I wondered whether I was wrung up.
Am I concussed? I had seen stars. And my
neck mashed. From whacking it hard and uh, high.
Big ol’ thwackin’! A painful a-whackin’!
I pray the world fades not to, uh, black, and
but if it does, at least I’d’ve learned… Not
much of anything. An accident turned
me into a grave. A silly way to
die. In future, I’ll be A-More-Aware-of-Surroundings Guy.
Green Soup Part 2: The ReGreening
Instructions:
1. Remove yesterday’s leftover Imagine™ Broccoli Creamy Soup from the fridge.
2. Holding the bowl with two hands, sip soup.
3. Remark how much more delicious this soup would be warm.
4. Wish the friend who’s letting you crash at his place had a microwave.
5. Repeat steps 3 & 4 until all the soup is gone.
Julian Wise 