the year of magical thinking

an excerpt:

After my mother died I received a letter from a friend in Chicago, a former Maryknoll priest, who precisely intuited what I felt. The death of a parent, he wrote, "despite our preparation, indeed, despite our age, dislodges things deep in us, sets off reactions that surprise us and that may cut free memories and feelings that we had thought gone to ground long ago. We might, in that indeterminate period they call mourning, be in a submarine, silent on the ocean's bed, aware of the depth charges, now near and now far, buffeting us with recollections."

true. i remember regularly how taken with my grief i was when my father died, how shocked i am at my reaction to his death, how shocked i continue to be at the way it's affected me and my view of him since. it's a singular kind of grief that you can't feel (share?) empathy for unless you've lost a parent, unless you're a part of the club. i remember feeling resentful at some of the things my mom would say during that time because she hasn't lost a parent, doesn't know what it feels like, and if losing my father affected me the way it has, she is (and i am, too) going to be obliterated when the time comes. it's not something you can prepare for, even if you have warning--and i had plenty. i thought that i'd built a solid foundation for my grief. i hadn't.

that was tangential. i just wanted to set this down somewhere so i could remember it. i've got this book on loan from bookswim, so it's not like i can make notes and go back to it like i do with my books.

anyway, this book is going to ruin my life. i can tell.

i can't get started

i don't write the way i need to anymore. i've stopped carrying my notebook around with me, and all that's in it right now is angry venting because i've shut out most of my friends these past several months (not because i'm newly relationshipped/cohabitated, but more because i'm learning to value quiet, as opposed to alcohol-induced craziness, and i do most of my socializing with friends in bars) and the blank paper with the blue lines is where i do a good deal of my bitching. i wish i could make more time for the pen and ink, but i don't look at the world like i want to paint pictures with words anymore, and my handwriting has become so messy that it's barely legible, all loops and scribbles. katie doesn't like the way i shape my r's.

am i being lazy or am i saving more for me? am i letting go of my obsession with documenting my life? because, really, it is impossible that anyone can think i'm as interesting as i do. though, it's actually less about my own interest in myself and more about memories and my fear of the decline of my own active memory, but whatever. the point is that i'm not writing. the point is that it's been over three years since i wrote a poem. the point is that i used to dream of getting my MFA in creative writing, of teaching poetry courses, of workshops and the creative communities in which i could play an active role.

i understand that interests shift, lives shift, but it's so curious how these personal touchstones change over time, these things you never thought you'd lose or identify with any less, but rather, things you intended to build on. and then, suddenly, they're gone. i remember making the decision to take a break after my last semester of college, after i spent three months trying to please that infuriating man who led the advanced poetry composition course i'd enrolled in for fun. i always found myself ahead of the curve--and the fact that there was a curve at all was just another factor that made me seethe--but it was his inexperience, his rigidity, that killed me, especially after the intensely brilliant people i'd studied under prior. i created a lot for myself in those months, but it was exhausting. he made me want to stop. even though he consistently graded me above the others, he made my perspective feel so invalid because it didn't match his. my triumphs felt empty because i felt like he was always challenging me, and not in an effort to help me grow, but because he didn't believe in me.

the break started with a pile of books. i remember reveling in my newfound ability to read for recreation. i started to work more, drink more, dance more, cry more. i stopped writing. months turned into years. i thought that maybe i had it again in september 2007, but that was short-lived and feels inconsequential now, in retrospect. what i'm saying is that i think about it a lot, about the words i could be writing and the publications that could have my name on them, and i can't remember how to start again. i think that maybe it's my process or the mode i employ the most and how ineffective it is in the longrun and then i get bogged down by logistics.

i'm making excuses. i just keep hoping that one day i can start again.

monday, monday, monday

funny, how people can come and go in a lifetime. this girl? i grew up around the block from her. when my first hamster, susie, got pregnant, she took one of the babies. we went to elementary, middle, and part of high school together. then she moved to the keys. i didn't see her again until a couple of months ago, after katie made plans to live with her up here. it'd been ten years or so. she was up here apartment hunting with katie this past weekend. clearly, we have a rapport.

mostly, i just wanted an excuse to post a photo of brandi flipping me off.

immersion: reading as much as i can possibly cram into my brain on post-production for my images. also, reading chelsea handler's are you there, vodka? it's me, chelsea.

stressing about money, big decisions to be made and possibly big changes on the horizon.

and i have no face, i have wanted to efface myself

for national poetry month, blogger bill cohen is doing a tattooed poets series. i think this is such a cool idea, and i've found some really great writers. anyway, i'm today's featured poet. if you want to check it out, the posts are here (the poem) and here (the tattoo). probably nothing new if you've been reading me awhile.

also, katie and i went on a playdate to central park on saturday when it was warm out. i was taken with the number of couples and i done shot me some candids. take a look:





i'm trying to focus on organizing my website/flickr/professional persona. i can't decide if it's best to provide as little information about myself as possible or play up the fact that i'm a quirky, doofy motherfucker. also, trying to spend more time learning photoshop. tra la la.

oh man, i'm backed up!

things i'm doing and have done:

+ i've shot some shows (and other things) lately. see below.
+ i'm trying to organize my life and put some photo books together (i really need to do kat's wedding book already). i'm learning the importance of organizational skills, too. not sure how to hone them, though.
+ i've been spending a lot of time with my honey, trying to navigate life with a significant other again, which is so much harder than i remember it being.
+ i've played a little bit of hooky.
+ i've been dreaming a lot, and there is this one particular nightmarish storyline type dream that presents itself in a very linear fashion and i may just have to start writing it all down.
+ i've been trying to read more, too. right now, i'm working on tom robbins's skinny legs and all and i have my eye stuck on annie leibovitz at work.


PHOTOS!


troy is not a parrot, but he'd like to be.


he is awfully snuzzly, though.

me & nikki were lookin' good for (and with!) jesus on the train.

katie got a boyfriend with a fancy 'do.

i found an amazing sign at a dive bar (because i am surely a fancy woman). i also drank bad texan beer, played sad country songs, and cried a little. blame it on the judds. "grandpa" will do that to you. swear it.

there was a pillow fight outside of the stock exchange. i documented it.






aftermath'd!

katie almost got murdered by a pillow-wielding serial killer, but i done saved her.

i shot the faint.

and ladytron.


and black kids. reggie youngblood sure does look like elvis in that last shot. i experimented with b&w photos some, too. oh, and here's the write-up for that show: click!

don't forget mates of state.


and st. vincent. most of these shots are up on stereogum, too.

rosebuds tomorrow night! relaxationz planned. snuggles, too.

over and out.

P-fucking-S: if you're on twitter and don't follow me, get to it: @deseraestage.

inane

this morning, after reading zooborns, i decided i'd like a tank full of seahorses! and clown fish! and anemones! with a little research, i found this dream was never to be.

me: apparently, sea horses are princesses and a bitch to take care of.
katie: lol
katie: is that exactly what it said? LOL
me: no, it totally went through the desicizer.
me: desifier?
me: the AWESOMENATER?
katie: lol
katie: right.
me: AWESOMENATOR?
me: hmm.
me: anyway, i was paraphrasing.
katie: gotcha.

also, song of the day? edie sedgwick - angelina jolie. chorus goes like nyah:

thinkin' 'bout a baby
workin' on a baby
let's go get a baby
black baby!

oh, and happy friday. i get off early (but only after corporate cake)! praise jesus! crucifixion! resurrection! holler! where's my chocolate bunny?

april showers

this guy? for all intents and purposes, he's my daddy. biologically, he's my maternal grandfather. i have his eyes and his chin(s). what little pragmatism has made its way into my personality is his. my complementary loves of reading and learning are his, too. he's the strong, silent type. he chases his pursuits quietly. he is calculating, in both good and bad ways. he has a good belly laugh and a penchant for blonde jokes. what i'm trying to say is that i love this man. the day i lose him will be the day i lose parts of me i'll never be able to recover.

i've kept quiet about it, but his sister, sue, was very sick until recently. there were the days of worry, the back and forth about whether and how he could go back home to pittsburgh to see her. i told him that if he needed me to be there to help him, i would be, i would find a way. he left last tuesday. i spent a lot of time in my head wondering what it was like for him, going back after forty-some odd years. i've heard so many stories. he went back and took photos of his old houses. he said so much had changed.

aunt sue had trouble coming out of the coma the doctors had induced. a brain scan concluded that brain activity had diminished, but not completely. when my grandfather saw her, he spoke loudly. sue moved a shoulder and opened one eye. this was a victory. over the next few days, she regained consciousness, but couldn't speak because of the tube in her throat. it's funny how much communication can take place in physical gestures. on friday night, my grandfather said goodbye and that he'd be back soon. they both cried.

on saturday morning, as he was on his way to the airport, sue's husband, john, called to tell him that her heart had failed. she died on his 72nd birthday. he's the last left of his side of the family.

when i heard the news, i called him. he was with my uncle waiting out a layover in the jfk airport. i asked him how he was and he burst into tears. the sound of that man crying broke my heart, and i cried with him.

i cried again later that night, drunk on cheap beer and tequila, when my friend nikki played "grandpa" by the judds in a cowboy dive bar in spanish harlem.

it's times like these when i just wish i could hold everything together for everyone. i know it's not realistic and it causes more pain than it helps, but it's so hard when i can't even give the guy a hug.

don't make a bet if you can't write the check

1. yesterday was the two year anniversary of my big move.

2. "I feel an extraordinary amount of sympathy for anybody working at a major label right now because their lives are over. It can't feel very good to have had your job for 15 years-- with a mortgage to pay and kids to put through college-- knowing your company is destined to go down." - Amanda Palmer

oh, good. i mean, that seems a bit hyperbolic, but whatever. the idea of losing my job does spook me a bit, especially since it's something that's been running around in the back of my mind lately, but my life surely won't be over if i lose my job. besides, i wasn't trained for the music industry, i just sorta ended up here.