If you are looking for Dr. Dre's Detox: 1) I don't blame you, and 2) Go here. Thank You - Management

Sunday, May 10, 2015


For better or worse, we learn it. Part of the unspoken contract that we keep as grownups in the mainstream world. At least to each others' faces. We do not openly insult one another.

So you could have knocked me over with a feather when some boy I've barely spent 2 hours with started straight up dissing me via text message.

It started with a poor attempt at getting me to come over and fuck him. Which. No. But he was this close, so I politely pointed out the flaws in his technique. I think that offended him because he took the fucking gloves off.

I'm not going to say that I enjoyed it. Frankly, I could have gone the rest of my life without hearing someone point out the things about myself that I detest.

I didn't enjoy it. But I found it. Refreshing.

I let him know he wasn't punching his weight, to start. At one point I even texted him, "are you sure you want to keep doing this?"

Apparently he did. Because he went harder, he got personal. Taking unflattering truths and exaggerating them, which is actually a great tactic. It brought a tear to my eye, in fact. I was so floored my responses were half-assed, but I am not one to give up in a scenario like that. Even if I'm in tears. Even if I think I may be beat.

For a second I mentally ran through my young buck rolodex wondering just who I would pay to break his kneecaps. I was nonplussed and wanted to end the whole thing efficiently.

And then, like clouds parting for a picnic, magic happened. He lost his finesse and got random. Some bullshit about how no one cares about me or likes me - I suspect he was channeling high school drama. After all, it wasn't that long ago for him.

Collecting myself, I typed and re-typed. I'd seen his weaknesses from day one, but would never have dreamed of speaking on them to hurt his feelings. It seemed almost cruel. But he asked for it.

"You're right. No one knows me and I'm not really well-liked. Which is why it's noteworthy that so many people have told me you're an awkward loser."

The old passive aggressive false agreement followed by an uncomfortable truth.

You know you've hit pay dirt with your text insult when someone - apropos of nothing - responds in all caps telling you how great and important they are at their job and how everyone else you mutually know is a nobody and a hater. I set the phone down with a smile and slept like a baby.

I almost felt bad, except I didn't. Sorry not sorry because that wasn't a lie. It actually happened. People I barely knew told me he was an awkward loser and a waste of time.

I suppose I should have listened. But then I wouldn't have this story to tell, now would I?

And the story is everything.

Saturday, May 9, 2015


And I lied to you. Because I knew then exactly what the problem was, but it seemed too big to even get words around it. It hurt too much to try. One of those things that made me feel eternally broken, and I pulled myself apart just trying to hide it. And so broken I was.

Thursday, May 7, 2015


I broke it. So I'm starting all over again. Don't think for a second that I mind that. I mean. Aside from the constant uncertainty and slightly unsafe feeling and whatnot. The itchiness of me shedding my skin again again again. The struggle out of the cocoon.

But I don't have a choice. I tend to rise to the occasion whether I want to or not.

Self-preservation has been my default mode for so long, I've forgotten how to give up I suppose.

The down side: I don't have emotions. Well. I suppose I do but I can't tell when they are happening or what they are. I don't remember the last time I felt happy or sad or proud or angry or anything without feeling like I was watching it on a screen. The projected life. It's all I've afforded myself.

Because you can leave the theater. Turn off the TV. Shut the book. Throw the laptop.

It's much safer, you know.

But I've lost many this way. So many. I never got the chance to tell them what the real thing was because I didn't know. I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I hurt, and I figured that was more than enough information. Especially if I screamed it.

I gave them all a hard way to go. A map with no key. All of the pieces with none of the context. All those smashed bits, I figured someone would eventually make sense of them. Put me back together.

That's the problem with being on a screen. You get to the point where you're assuming a happy ending. Or at least a noteworthy story.

But I've gotten here and produced not much. No kids. No great love. No novel. No legacy.

All I've got to show for it right now is pieces.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015


I hit a wall. Or it hit me. Unusually hard and with gusto. So I came back here to lick my wounds.

Like the old days I'm making a small clean writing nest for myself which is surrounded by an ocean of discarded outfits and the guts of purses that i turned upside down looking for lipgloss, or whatever.

Like the old days that fact almost bums me out. But this time I wonder at what point we can stop chastising ourselves for things that don't hurt another person. Could all of my ancestors rest if I just said "fuck it I like a messy bedroom"?

I'm waiting on an answer.

I have some spare time lately. I use it to remind myself to stand my body up proud and fully inhabited, to quit slouching into chairs like I'm on my dying breath and to cultivate a resting smile face (more on that later).

Because what is needed right now is grace. And grace starts with the little things.

For the past couple of years I've been the one telling my friends that everything would be alright. And that if they couldn't see it right then it was okay, because what are friends for if not caring for forgotten faith? Leaving breadcrumbs and walking backwards as slowly as needed so that it can be found again.

Or accommodated. In my case I see faith quite clearly. Actually, it's more of an A. A. Milne sort of situation. I can See Faith Quite Clearly. The problem I am up against is finding Time for it.

So Trish, very small Trish. She holds my Faith for me while I play the negligent mother. Later on we will both forget this happened.

I sleep now. Or try to. I think this may have helped.

PS: Forgive this generic ass template. Not sure if it's my new machine but looking at my old template the body copy was like an inch tall and that was making me feel bonkers. I slapped this baby blue shit on to kill the time. I'll be back to fix it. Plus my links and my homies and all that other crappe.

First things first.