proteanme

How do you miss absence? I need to figure out how to explain it because that’s what it’s like missing my dad. I miss this place where mostly there was nothing punctuated by these brief appearances of something that reminded me how I was way too used to all that nothing.

Sometimes it’s like I made him up. Not because he’s dead, either. But becasue he was mostly story to beign with.

Its impossible. Not impossible in a good way how when you fly you get so high that it is impossible to understand you are miles from the ground. You look out the window and it’s fascinating, not at all like looking out a 5 story building or peaking over the edge of stadium balcony, which is something that makes me feel like my testicles are retracting, except I don’t have any testicles. Just balls.

I once loved this girl who hates me now. Every time she sees me she either walks out of the room or the building or she just acts like I’m not there. It makes me wonder if nothingness is in my DNA.

I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t moved back to RU’s this year.

I had a dream last night I was in a tornado. Mostly what I remember is this super dark sky filling up with funnel clouds, maybe four or five, and how we laid in a ditch with our cats but no one put Sasha in a crate so she ran away. I woke up feeling  pissed and sad.

There was also this 72 year old lady storm chaser. She had a perm and wore a pant suit and her retired husband drove her from storm to storm.

The thing I didn’t think about until I got to work is how in the dream I knew it was gonna be fucked up but I wasn’t scared. It was this whole exerise in absurdity except it wasn’t funny. It wasn’t just that no one in the dream would get their shit together so we could go to the basement, which is why we ended up in a ditch, but it’s how they didn’t believe me in the first place because we didn’t have a working radio or TV to get the proper announcement. I kept going outside to check and coming back reporting on the color of the sky and the number of funnel clouds and which way they were moving and everyone would say I wonder waht’s happening.

Reminds me a lot of work, which seems to be an exercise in soul killing, if you’re not real careful about what you let your mind get fixed on.

I came into today all opened up by my first trip back to Indiana since my dad died. I forgot to tuck my soul away before I got in the building.  Bad move on my part.

I’ve gotten in over my head, or I’m afraid that I have. But I think I’m willing to risk drowning. I got accepted into a IPRC’s writing certificate program. And they are not fucking around. There’s lots of writing and lots of reading. And it’s all due now. Ok not right this very minute. But you get the gist.

I’ve got to write some fiction. I’ve got to do it this week. And I haven’t really written fiction before. To be honest I’m scared I’ll write something craptacular. Not even in a spectacular way, but an ordinary way. I’m also scared I’ll become insufferably narcissistic. All I’ve talked about with RU the last two days is me, me, me.

Who does justice work for? It doesn’t work for you if you’re black and a dyke.

• Gizzly Bear’s – Veckatimest
• Lucien Freud’s portrait of Francis Bacon
• Francis Bacon’s self portrait
• Cutting my hair with the Remington shortcut
• Making pineapple fried rice
• Waiting for my new adidas
• This guy I read about in Mother Jones

California continues on it’s be heart breaking march to deny me and my brothers and sisters our rights. Thanks for nothing Cali.

I sure fucking hope so.  My fingers are crossed.  C’mon people, let’s get an election right.

I had so much social activity this weekend I got over stimulated. I think the last time I saw this many people in so few days was the wedding, and it’s different with old friends, when you can just lay down on the floor and bullshit and watch folks fall asleep. Not that I’m complaining; it was good. I’m glad for the chances to connect. And it reminds me I’ve always navigated lots of different groups of people and I like that. I like that about myself and I like knowing a lot of people who wouldn’t necessarily know each other.

I just read David Foster Wallace’s essay on the Illinois State Fair, “getting away from already pretty much being away from it all“. I laughed out loud and I recommend it especially if you’re of the mind that he’s poking fun out of a reluctant love for the midwest. No, I’m not in a rush to go out and breeze through Infinite Jest, but I do have new affection for DFW, who before I could never get into.

It’s nice to see a number of Tanque folks back at their blogs, or back at them more regularly.  Shout outs to Pat, Jim, Hope and Licia.  Blog on.