I’m a contrived beauty.

If I were grim faced Hester Prynn

Framed in a solemn, white hat and loose, billowy drapes

Of religious chastity

I would fade into a sea of pale, droning faces

Yearning, like all of them, for the slightest indication

I was something singular. 

But that’s not me. 

I find the means from bottles

And jars, pallets, sprays, boots,

Liquid fantasy

And all the singularity I receive ordinarily  

Is wholly contrived.  

You’re such a mess.

Look at your feelings spilling all over the floor

Your heart clutched in your fist.    

It’s immature, all this blood and pain. 

And then the tears, loathsome.  It’s not death.  Not this. 

Have you tried the egg salad croissant?  That’s worse than death.

But death isn’t worse.  

Death blows smoke into your brain, languidly soaks every dark corner
Until you hide a serrated knife under the seat of your car.

For safety.  For comfort.  Just in case you decide to let go of the heart in your fist. 

You reach under the seat to make sure the knife is still there

Gleaming with the charm of a vampire, panting, scratching ….

There are lines carved into your arm, the battered map to oblivion: 

Tender supplication.    

I’ve tried the egg salad croissant. 

The flaky, sodden bread spongy and sad at the bottom

A mess

Worse than death. 

Max's father has disappeared again and I have no idea where he is.  His family won't talk to me, but I know he isn't in jail because I checked all of that....he's just gone.  Max tells me he hasn't seen his dad in days and the thing is, even Max is secretive about it.  It's all covered up, protecting him while Max is tossed around from family member to family member while nobody thinks to call me.  

The poem I wrote was about Adam getting out of jail and then asking me for money.  When I saw him, his pants were belted down just above his knees and he covered max with kisses and words and said he would pick him up that night but never showed.  And the next day he never called and didn't think to see Max though it had been over a week since he had seen him.  The guy is really cracking up, it seems.  And I wish I could figure out where the fuck he is.  

With Alexis maybe.  In the woods.  With heroine and a tent.  Just a possibility.  

Anyway, so much to write about.  This horrible boredom.  But later.  

My visit with Adam.  He went to jail again.  For heroin.

I wait in the front seat, with my knees tucked under my legs.

Watch you kiss his plump cheeks, make him giggle,

He glows, flushes, fondles every word, every breath,

Your hallowed love. 

I am trying to remember…

Did you look at me? 

I know you didn’t think to. 

I tugged on your pants, too low, so childish,

Here’s your foolish money

And I shoved it into your pocket. 

I have a secret.  Tucked under my knees. 

A holy longing, residual virtuousness,

Haunted by woebegone ghosts. 

Infinitely, reverently untouched.  

I just got a job at the University of Utah.  But  more importantly, I was rereading this bullshit blog.  I really feel differently about things and going back, am alarmed at the way I was so wrapped up in myself.  I suppose it's  a good learning experience....

I have a job in the education department for the University and am very excited about it.  And scared.  But mostly excited.  I have calmed down quite a bit and am surprised that I came out of all that with nothing more than a subdued ego.  Even more, I was starting that sick cycle back up with Adam again but abandoned it.  A part of me will always want him, but the bigger part is through with the dysfunction. 

Nothing more to write for now.  That seems very boring. 

It's been difficult to write...really to even think the last few weeks.  My brother passed away from cancer on October 11.  It's been the hardest time of my life, worse than Jason's death, worse than Buffy's.  So, I can 't write much and try to just cope with each day.
What bothers me the most about Chris's death is what he suffered through just before he passed away.  He had continuous panic attacks and his every moment was consumed with just staying alive.  My mother said that Julie went in the room to wake him up and that Julie screamed and screamed "wake up, Chris" and that Chris tried so hard to open his eyes and he kicked his feet to wake himself up but he just couldn't do it.  And it's hard to write this.  Hard to think about what he went through.  Hard to know that my brother is no longer here....maybe not anywhere. 
I have the hardest time when I am in the car and left to my own thoughts.  And my mother calls me and I can't answer, not yet, because it's so difficult.  She just cries and cries and cries and I can't tell her it's going to be okay because it's not ever going to be.  Not ever again. 
My sister calls and it's the same.  And then there's my dad who had a literal falling apart.  Destroyed his apartment and threatened to kill himself so my sister called the police on him and he went to jail.  Two days after Chris's funeral.  We all have a broken heart.  Every single one of us.  But Chris was my older brother, my only full brother and I miss him more than I know how to express.  I miss him SO MUCH.  Just knowing that he isn't at home or work and that he is nowhere at all actually.  And that he suffered tremendously.  I saw him three days before he died and he was out of his mind...even talking about Jason.  The last thing time Chris acknowledged me was that day.  Julie asked him if he knew I was there and he said, she's right here with me.  And that was it.  Never again.  And I never really said goodbye to him like everyone else did.  I lived closer than anyone and never said goodbye. I just thought he was always going to be okay or beat it somehow.