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19 January 2003 - 10:23 am
the passing of the wolf-moon & dreams of angel's-fruit.
up and down. wolf moon. waking up, sleeping at odd hours. phone calls for more than an hour. dark mirrors, cold showers, drunk friends, solitude on other people's beds.
//
there is some vast confusion. being alone is when it hits, when it hurts, being with people is when it's usually more-than-good, going places - friendly's, on the spur of the moment, etc, dennys at four am, not sleeping for nights on end, and then finally so tired that you just can't stay awake any longer during the day.
i had weird dreams. i dreamt that i was getting married. that i was jewish. and i had to break the glass. and there was a huge dragon in the sky over the proceedings, looming. an old woman was near me knitting. her fingers changed colour with the colour of the yarn she used. when the bride whose face i couldn't see slid the ring on my finger i turned to gold and vanished. woke up on a street in sanfrancisco. shaken awake by matt. scene changed. sitting on rocks. the sky is impeccably blue. a kite is overhead, in the shape of a dragon. a boat made of paper sails by out on the ocean, burning. it's night, we haven't moved, and the moon suddenly drops into the ocean. it doesn't make a splash. slides in like a round white knife. someone has been calling my name for a long time, but it's faint and distant, and the road unravels behind me, and it seems like i'm going somewhere but this is the end of the earth.
i wake up with the words "we're here" in my mouth, and they taste like dust.
//
class yesterday morning was "global enlightenment" a long two hour, almost three hour class in which rachel corey josie and i and many other people sat in luther-bonney auditorium and listened to three professors tell us about the middle east. it's tag-team teaching. there's a husband, jack, and his wife, nancy, and a hippie-esque man named bob. jack teaches the geography part, nancy the history and bob the technology end of it. every once in a while nancy will yell out across the room when jack is talking, telling him to speak up. it's kind of cute.
and fascinating, too. nice to have a class that i can use my brain in. from 930 to noon, every saturday. i start working again on monday afternoon. might start going to the gym. going to portland stage to audition for "eggs over eric" next next monday. to try, anyway.
i hate being alone. not that i am. i just don't like it. and now matt has my head filled with thoughts of dreaming LA, the city that lives and breathes in all of our thoughts and dreams, pulses like a ripe fruit ready to be plucked off of the vine of Cities ... purple and black and yellow and orange, gleaming with the sultry red sunset encasing the smoggy skin. if you were to bite into it, your head would be filled with the grandeur and exploding demeanour of the place - find yourself staring at the ocean, at the sun. (and here portland suddenly seems like a withered grape on a thick green vine, cut off from so much more that it could have, but somehow not taking it in ... )
i need an affirmation of existence, i need to stop wasting-away physically, i need to figure out what i am comprised of, and i need to know. if you are made up of the people that you associate with, perhaps i am less-a-person because i associate with only a few people and even then i'm sort of estranged ...
anthony and rachel, hugging. "join in," they say, one hand outstretched.
"i'm not the huggy type," i respond.
//
"i'm not one to talk openly about my issues," i say to rachel in her car. my breath is as cold as my stomach, which is shrinking inside of me at the painful standard i set for myself.
"the big issue," i tell matt, as my voice rushes over 3000 miles to his ear on the california coast. i look out at the night and imagine that i can see it, a dull but stubborn star etching a passageway across the vastness of the earth's black umbrella-roof.
in my imagination.