mai

∞ It’s May.
Sandcastles and fireworks over the weekend.
Kota chased a young deer into Mecox Bay.
And me? I melted in the cold. A one-dog-night.
Foggy Sunday, big blanket;
Warm, soft, enveloping body-
A beautiful new friend.

Simple, simple, simple.

∞The survival of the farmhouse and the protective mountains after a cool and rainy evening was a funny suggestion. What’s necessary? What’s there.

∞ at a time- when I have so much to write, to express when I am full, o the brim- overflowing even- with a need for expression, it seems that I have avoided the machine and so avenged the pen.

I have written two poems mornings. Poems, something I haven’t dared touch- Since high school- Poems that were foreign to me for so long- Poems have come back without the icy layer That kept them safe so long.

And as much as I hate to say it, to tell you that you may have been right, more often I am feeling like a writer, a prostitute for prose, than I ever dreamed I would again. My only fear is that I have no right as I may not know as much as writers should to profess too much of the ways of the ways of the wayfarers-

But in making that very statement, I feel I know enough. And I think of the others around me who know what they know as well as I know what I don’t. I feel a level level.

∞I’m exhausted and I just got here. Perhaps it is just that I weigh less, but more, I think it is the day. It is so frighteningly (and seemingly suddenly) beautiful here- the day of clear blue and that jolting spring green and the night, midnight, full of stars that lights make invisible. It smells good and the air feels right.

Tonight, with Petra, I went to “I’m not scared”(Io Non Ho Paura), an Italian film. Too nice cinematography but lovely insect and child use. I was crying. Not throughout, but at certain times through and naturally, at the end.

I avoided my neighbor completely and not entirely accidentally. Lots of –ly’s tonight. Lots of lots of things.

∞ It is nice to start things off right. Or when they do. Passive here. I was wavering moments ago between this or the notebook- I wish I didn’t. I feel like there should be nothing that can’t be here; nothing that should be mine alone. I have to think of it like that. I drew for D. my recent thought process. Fittingly, on a paper towel. It looks just right, no perfect circles, only lopsided with branches. I keep imagining that I hear the cicadas coming out of the ground. Last night I took Kota on a 2 in the morn walk and found that I was so exhausted, it felt like tripping. The ground looked so clear, bright. I swore then that I saw some things moving under the top layer and that I heard the cicadas digging out. Doug Martsch is playing in the background now. I am sleeping and heading out to the beach tomorrow with the girl and the boy. A promising weekend. I should extract from the purple thought notes and give some here. It will be available to those who want it, but only sporadically- it enables a smooth transition to addiction.

∞ I am trying to sell my computer via EBAY. It sounds like pig Latin, doesn’t it? I am having a hard time finding out about the meaning of the three nudes on horseback painted by James Michael Newell. D- said something about muses- perhaps they are muses- um, reps of the elements? earth, fire, what? Fire, water, what? Wind? Earth wind and fire? Ha. There is a collision to speak of, an attack. Funny that it should be on an earth wind and fire trip that my parents collide and begin the strange creation of their marriage by four other explosions and lots of personalities. We’ve been changing since. And before, but that matters less. What’s to come is enough to wonder on its own. Suddenly legs sprout and it begins to run around stealing beer from the window-sills at your gathering and although it is small, it isn’t overcome by the alcohol- just encouraged and giggly with its round, distended little belly.

∞ tonight driving in the heat, summer in the southern gateway, upon turning into the driveway I got that Canada road feeling- late-night after long drives, strange sounds…workshop playing well with the noises of the outside world…I stopped at Lloyd’s drive and put on the parking brake to watch the fireflies. I got the feeling that no matter what, we are going to lose everything. Surely it was to do with the Canada feeling. I loved it, its gone. There is a smaller, less nostalgic piece left, of course, but not the thing I grew up in and loved so. We have been feeding the cicadas to the dogs- they hunt them too…they love them. Clancy heard a woman on the radio saying that they taste like asparagus and so no wonder the dogs like them so much. I like the older ones that make noise when you pick them up. Kota does too- they are more fun. They fly better.

I wrote my letter to J, but I am not sure if it will get to her. I don’t know if I’ll leave it. I feel stuffed right now. I don’t like it. I think I will try a short fast after tomorrow’s breakfast with Clance-any. I will have to look one up.

∞ no fast. That’s good maybe. I am in Brooklyn again. It is hot and I am exhausted yet awake and happy.

∞ back in Long Island. Spent the night at D’s last night. He suggested that I post my letter to J on my website as a compromise…thanks, D.

I have waffled over whether or not to give or even write this letter to you- mostly as I’d like to avoid upsetting my mother and aggravating your distaste for her (she even lacks taste in your eyes, doesn’t she?).

I was struck by your comment that my mom should stay home and work “that week” so that she can pay back the money she owes you. Novel indeed. If you think for one second that she wants to owe you (or is it C?) anything, no more proof is necessary, I KNOW you are delusional. Although it must be difficult for you to understand as it is so far removed from your own reality, I can vouch that my mom works harder in one week than you probably ever have in your entire life. I know that sometimes she has a hard time focusing on particular tasks, which often makes things unnecessarily harder, but she works. She is not perfect; she struggles every day to keep her head above water, and most days, the only things that keeps her from just letting go and drowning are her children.

I know your issues with her go far deeper than money and beach date requests (I am the one who so quickly responded to GA’s email- my mom has not had time to even check hers for roughly three weeks). I know there is probably nothing I can do to get it through to you that she loves you and cares about you and does not want to hurt you. I wish you could see that your behavior makes you seem delusional, manipulative, narcissistic, and completely devoid of the ability to truly, deeply care for or understand another human being (or like, in your own words, “a loser Nazi with no friends”), and thus you manage to alienate yourself from the people who care most about you…or would if you could begin to let them. Mostly, I am sorry that your damaged psychology alienates your children from people that would love to love them.

I digress. The point is this: we can’t all afford to not work most of our lives and then escape our lack of satisfaction by taking a week in Paris and another in Belize…then another in Paris. Nor can we afford a babysitter by hiding in our rooms for the better part of each day or by shopping or just being nasty. My mom works hard day in and day out (what a novel idea) and is lucky if she manages to get two full days of anything close to relaxation in her short lucky-if-its-annual trip to Long Island. For what? A bitter sister that hates her and jabs a beautiful, bony elbow into her ribs as soon as the opportunity arises…and four kids that love her. The very least I could do was to request beach time for the only dates during which she might manage to escape.

Under developed, I know…but mom was right…at least a little cathartic. Good for that. I am in Long Island now and it makes me feel funny to know that in a few days she will be here and I will not have left her this piece of my mind. I like to leave pieces of my mind. I like to leave them, but would like each to be tread over- at least slightly, rather than be ignored or unnoticed completely. Although- even if they are, I seem to give them enough attention. Oh, but maybe not…maybe that is part of my problem. Mmm, it’s gonna be cold tonight. Three dog but one would do but the one I prefer is in a neighboring state. Neighboring states. Can a state do that? An emotional one, I mean. I suppose they are always lingering, waiting, neighboring. They are lurking and haunting. Or they are all the same thing, one continuous, flowing, ever-changing state. It needs no neighbors.

∞ it is no longer May, but I have May things to say. I will put them to June, Juni.