Pipe Cleaner Guys

Babysitting overnight.

I was 2 minutes late to pick you up at the bus. Your father changed plans at the last minute, and I got lucky with the trains. (it was tight!! And I remember what it's like to not have anyone there to pick you up at the bus stop. I usually arrive 10 minutes early)

Your mom is gonna pick you up today, I've seen her only once or twice since August and we've only now started texting again. I love her and miss her .. A lot. But I understand why we can't be friends.

Like with L. I understand why we can't be friends, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

You are sitting on the floor of the living room now, building 5 guys from a pack of pipe cleaners I found. Green= poison, red=fire. They all have bouncy springs as their feet and you're gonna make them all fight each other.

And I think you just talked me into going to the dollar store to get MORE!!!

The Spanish Letters: Parts 1 & 2

5/21/13, Tuesday:

Lo siento, pero tuve que salir temprano hoy.

Hay una puerta de magia en la cocina, debajo de la ventana.

Abrirlo.

Va a encontrar un tesoro.

Sinceramente, su compañero de cuarto,

PS ¿Qué crees que es la historia del tesoro?

==
I am sorry but I had to leave early today.

There is a magic door in the kitchen, under the window.

Open it.

You will find a treasure.

Sincerely,  Your Roommate,

PS What do you think is the story about the treasure?

==
Miercoles, Mayo 22, 2013
Querido E,


Hay cuatro piezas del tesoro.

Y hay cuatro piezas de la historia.

La primera parte tiene que ver con el capitán del barco pirata español.

El segundo tiene que ver con un poco de chico listo que era un polizón.

La tercera tiene que ver con un loro.

La cuarta tiene que ver con una reina generosa.

Sinceramente, su compañero de cuarto,

PS ¿Qué crees que pasó?
==

There are four pieces of the treasure.

And there are four pieces of the story.

The first piece has to do with the Captain of the Spanish Pirate Ship.

The second has to do with a Smart Little Boy who was a Stowaway.

The third has to do with a parrot.

The fourth has to do with a generous queen.

Sincerely,  Your Roommate,

PS What do you think happened?

"Demons"-The National

This sounds more familiar.

His voice, maybe. (Deep as possible)

"Fuck" indeed.

Brilliant video, though.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N527oBKIPMc

Lyrics: http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/3530822107859454648/

And this morning, an actress friend is in the touring production of "Next to Normal":read the synopsis!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Next_to_Normal

Robot

Painting a pot

Big picture

Friends as Reflections of Ourselves

People aren't different.

It's good to make friends with people in different parts of the world, so you can have a host when you visit. Vice versa.

We are all the same.

"Lost in My Mind" Again

So some days, in this cycle we seem to have, I awake thinking of how "in despair I am" and how I want to exact some sort of . . .

What?  Nothing useful appears.

Revenge?  Meanness?  Do I want to make you feel my own personal brand of suffering?  Shrug.

I hope someday, we can meet in Peace.

And so I have to direct my attention to a beautiful peace.  And I focus on THIS.  Create a beautiful book, or painting, or poem or writing.   Focus on the beautiful.  Send prayers out into the universe.  No obligation to you.

(I was talking about you last night to a friend.  She said (spontaneously) that we were connected in a past life.  Which, somehow I believe still.  (But not if it scares you in any way, it's just a metaphor for why I feel connected to you somehow.  And how I don't want anything from you that you can't give.  I believe there IS stuff you can give.  Don't make it hard.  Show up to the friendship. That's all.)

Maybe, someday, if you ever doubt my faithfulness, I can show this to you.  Show how I NEVER stopped writing to you, NEVER gave up.  (Despite what I may say to myself or if I give you the look of despair).  I KNOW you are in there.  I have no idea how to get to you.

And so, this focus on BEAUTY.  Like a glimmering treasure of silver light.  Easy and beautiful.

==
Actually, the ONE song that always makes me think of my friend down the hall is by The Head and The Heart.

Okay, the video is weird and a bit distracting.

But the lyrics are some of the most beautiful and simple and RELEVANT poetry for you/me/us.

                                "Lost In My Mind" By the Head and The Heart

Put your dreams away for now
I won't see you for some time
I am lost in my mind
I get lost in my mind

Momma once told me
You're already home where you feel loved
I am lost in my mind
I get lost in my mind

Oh my brother
Your wisdom is older than me
Oh my brother
Don't you worry 'bout me

Don't you worry
Don't you worry, don't worry about me

How's that bricklayin' comin'?
How's your engine runnin'?
Is that bridge gettin' built?
Are your hands gettin' filled?
Won't you tell me, my brother?

'Cause there are stars
Up above

We can start
Moving forward

How's that bricklayin' comin'?
How's your engine runnin'?
Is that bridge gettin' built?
Are your hands gettin' filled?
Won't you tell me, my brother?

'Cause there are stars
Up above

We can start
Moving forward

Lost in my mind
Lost in my mind
Oh I get lost in my mind
Lost, I get lost

I get lost in my mind
Lost in my mind
Yes I get lost in my mind,
Lost, I get lost
I get lost

Oh I get lost

Oh I get...

The Ice Coffin

She knew all kinds of spells, except this last one. She could partially defrost him, and when she did, she knew he wouldn't survive the thaw intact. So she reversed the spell.
She hadn't the heart to revive him for only a few moments before he was overcome by frost, according to his spell. Or worse, find out he'd keep melting all the way through, it was always possible that this body was not made of flesh, but ice as well. (Turtles all the way down)
Each time, she rested her forehead on the Ice Coffin.
And she cried a tear.
This very tear bored through the ice like a bullet through flesh, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a riverbed. It lodged in his heart.
And that single bullet sized tear kept him from freezing him completely.

---
He saw her walking around, deprived of her smile. Seemingly, he had given his particular and exact anxiety to her.

All the women in his life were devoid of smiles.

Somehow, until he saw her, he thought it was a coincidence.

The Bear and the Ghost

Let me be, OK.  Bye.

The Bipolar bear roared.

And then the girl who was standing before him dematerialized.  He saw flesh and blood one moment, and then nothing the next.

He had made her disappear.

And now there was nothing he could do to get her back.

(Not that he wanted to get her back, not immediately.  But in the days and weeks to come, he wanted to call out to her.  Wanted to be kind.  But she was not there.  And his cries died out in the emptiness)

Love Took Me Down to The River To Silence Me

Sometimes I wonder.

(Songs come on the radio which make me think of you and all your permutations)

Springsteen has been ruined for me. I Don't Believe You made me think of all the times you want me to be patient, because you want to be my friend.  But I never see any evidence.  (I try to talk to you, send you emails, leave rocks at your door, etc.  I try.  You don't.  You just don't want to be the bad guy)

And then,  Love Took Me Down to the River To Silence Me

Because when you get mad, it seems you get VERY mad. ("Stop this shit. It pisses me off")  Not like your polite self.

Of course, I don't know who is your polite self.  And the who/you who is your real self.  And all of the variations in between.

When you hadn't introduced me to R, I was convinced that she was lying dead in your freezer.  None of your stories contained her, either.  Maybe she was a made up character, entirely.

And what does it say about my personality that I still keep the faith in your smile?  That despite all of this evidence and likelihood, that I would still gladly be your (in-person) friend.

Am I the person in those horror movies that becomes the victim?  I think I can take the gun away.  I think I can get to the smile behind the frown, that I am different enough somehow to you?  (But I don't know WHICH you is there at any time)  In a confrontation, would it be like Bjork in "Dancer in the Dark"?  Mercy.

(Shhh.  I wonder about the stuff you can't tell me.  Involving you being alone with a girl in the past.  Whatever you think is too terrible to tell me, I'm sure it's not as bad as what I imagine.)

You've told me so much so far, I don't understand why you shift back into your solitude mode.  As if you forget.

Yesterday, I heard David Sedaris talk about how every generation believe they have invented sex.  Now I think that every person reinvents Mental Illness.  It isn't enough to read secondhand accounts.  You have to experience it for yourself.

I Truly Don't Understand

(May 14, 2013)

I feel nothing but Peace.

When I see you on the street, as I know that I will, I wonder how you will react.  And how I will.

I hope I smile.  I hope we both do and start giggling.  Because that's what friends do.

If we never become friends, if we always look past each other, then fine.  I'm okay with it. As an artist, I regularly see beautiful visions that will never come to pass unless I work at them.

My Mousetraps were going to exist as tiles, as a gigantic mosaic of the bridge at one point.  But then I just lined my wall with them.  And was happy.

I have a peaceful, gentle, positive feeling about you, even at your darkest.  I wish we had more time spent away from the "serious" stuff, more acting normal (fake it til you make it) type moments.  Personally, I used to stress before I saw you, wondering what would happen (granted, my own anxiety).  But as soon as we begin talking, it dissipates.  We talk normal-neighbor stuff.

It's the emails that our the source of our perverse weirdness.  Lots of things come up, and granted-when I get passive aggressive, it must sound mean, or even just odd.  I apologize.  Especially because things can be taken both ways (mean and fine).

eg  I texted you when Boston was in Lockdown (April).  "Dammit!  I wish we were friends!"  You never acknowledged it.
You later told me you were in Montreal that weekend.  Beautiful city, you said/emailed.
"Maybe you should move there," I emailed.
Sounding curt, and maybe mean.  But just a few months ago (October), you were TELLING/Emailing that you were moving to Beacon.  To get away from the city.  (Before we had become friends, to get away from everyone, city, me? How can anyone live here? you said, just when I was trying to reach out to my neighbor, you refusing to be nice then)  And then maybe there was Bipolar amnesia (or from the ECT??)
When I went to your party, you emphasized that you were glad I came.  As if I might not have.  Because I was thinking not to.  Because I am aware of how difficult it is being friends.  No, I am aware how difficult it is "appearing" as friends, and then going back to deep exchange of messages over technology.

Last December, when I was in Boston for Christmas, you texted me about your "Dark Soul".  And mentioned "the contemplation of one's death".  I called, I texted, you wouldn't answer, you were at dinner.

I don't mind being another friend to turn to.  Especially if (it seems) you are not finding trust in your current circle.  BUT I cannot be the one who gets your multiplying sorrows when they get tired of you.  Especially if you have nothing to give me.

---

I still think that most of this could be resolved through face to face conversation.  But you act like a fridge magnet turned over, nothing will make you talk about seeing me in person.  Which is maybe about me.  Or maybe about you. (The phone call where you told me that it was an achievement noteworthy enough to tell your therapist about was a HUGE clue to me).

Maybe I've just pushed your sensitivity a bit too far this time.  Everything seems so easy, so normal when I see you in person.  (Even listening to records that time.  It was so normal and fun, I don't understand why we can't do that again.  Although, I know you were manic at the time.  But everything was fine...)

You told me about how SLOWLY you become friends with people.  Did I jump the gun?  Don't I get some kind of "reward" after a YEAR?  Other than a huge party.

Maybe you think of yourself as a werewolf.  Not to be trusted with people.  Or with me.  I'm a girl, I get it.  (And of all the excuses, you could use that one, but you NEVER do...???)

Check with your therapist, your close ones, would I be a good person to START reaching out with?

Or just coffee, or normal neighbor things.

We have a lot in common. (Except for your wall)

Again, I never know if or when you will see/talk/write/communicate with me.  But I wish you peace.  (And everytime this happens, for my own self-respect and for yours, you will have to work harder.  I just have to remember that.)

I wish I could tell you that it is all okay.  Everything, everything, EVERYTHING is always forgivable.

The Last Email (Again)

My Dear Little Boy,

I am writing to you from the highs of Castle Village.

Yesterday was my last email with him, the BiPolar Bear.  (Again).

There will always be another last, another final, another complete and permanent Good-Bye.

The circumstances are as follows:
He was alone in his apartment all last week, and the week before.
I had gone to the party, thanked him and we began writing (again) with some regularity.

Him:

I immensely appreciate all of this, I really do.  I read your e-mails carefully and sympathetically.  I guess I sometimes just don't understand what you want from me.  I don't know that I have any great insights or whatever to impart during any discussions.  The past year for me has been the worst in my life.  I have largely avoided people, even some who are very close to me.  I'm slowly recovering, but very slowly.  Mom's passing was a hit of the most imaginable sort and I've been concerned with getting my OWN head together.  I have had no energy to devote to other people.  Please understand that.  If you had met me first a few years ago, you wouldn't recognize me now.

I subscribe to your views about humans' being social and all that.

The next party?  No idea.  That one last week took a huge amount of preparation and effort, which is probably a big part of the reason that it rolled so well.  And it DID roll well.

Now that's a pretty long e-mail from [last name}, no?  : )

Me:

That IS a long email, THANKS!!!!

I guess all I want from you is  . . . this.  Words.  Conversation in person, when you are up to it.

No offense, but I don't expect that you are really especially brilliant or have any great insights.  And that's fine.  I expect you to be  . . . human.

He responded:
It will happen. I PROMISE.  In good time, it will.

Twice a week.  And then he wrote on Thursday.  And then on Friday.

I wrote him a note, asking to see him in person.  How, after all these emails, it would be better.  (More "normal", although I know he hates that word.  Maybe I was provoking him.)  Regardless, he did not answer.  He also did not tell me he was going out (which he usually DOES when we are in the middle of an email conversation).  He simply did not respond.  He writes back the next morning (happy cheerful) that he was out all night, left at 6am and was just returning.  And that he needed some sleep before going to the opera with his piano teacher.

As always, I am glad you are going out and socializing.  But you must see my side of things.

You tell me to be patient for our friendship; however, I simply don't believe you anymore.  Nor have I any reason to trust you.

This email thing is not normal or healthy; I must exist as something to bolster your male ego or something.  And the idea of that hurts me tremendously.

In fact, here's a challenge, a DARE. 

If you are sincere in your efforts, then *call* or *invite* me somewhere. In person.  Like normal people.  Invest some of this marvelous social energy in our friendship.

Otherwise, let's please stop this charade.  I have no interest in being friends with a computer.  Or an uptight robot (which you appear to be)   ;P

Last night, I came to the realization (again) about what a stupid game this is.

Very Sincerely,

Me

Then he wrote:
Oh, stop it.  I've really grown cold to these neurotic things.  This pisses me off.  Stop this, OK?

And I, fed up from the night before, decide I've had enough.  That the emails are not what I want.  Either a normal relationship or nothing.  And I choose nothing.  Because he is making me crazy.  And I have no room for that.  

It sounds like he intends for us to be in-person friends, no?  Granted, I'm a girl, but I've done everything I can to strip away sexuality from the equation.  

Humans are complex.  Conversations are as well.  I am recording this as much for my sake as for yours.  

PS Last year, something similar happened.  I walked away, almost relieve to have him gone.  And he wrote to me a few months later.  And invited me over (!!!) for two hours.  We listened to music.

And we had a normal conversation.  (And we have rarely had one since.)

PPS  I do count the relationship in HOURS.  As of this moment, maybe 15 hours total conversation (all the talking in the street-he ALWAYS shakes my hand and greets me with a warm smile) and easily 3000 emails.

PPPS If you are questioning me, don't worry, I question my own judgment.  What if he just does not want to be friends with me?  What if he is normal and I am "crazy"?  Yet, is it crazy to want to talk to someone in person?  I cannot use him as my point of reference.

Sea Lions at the Zoo

They look like statues.

The Bi-Polar Bear

Once upon a time, there was a Bi-Polar Bear.

He liked to hide out in his cave. And sleep. And the cave was so dark, he even had trouble figuring out when he was sleeping versus when he was not sleeping. Just to be on the safe side, he figured he should stay put and act like he was sleeping, even if he was awake.  This way, he would always get a good winter's sleep, even if he was awake.

Unfortunately for him, once upon a time there was also an annoying little Chipmunk. Also, unfortunately for him, they shared this story.

The Chipmunk liked exploring and one day lept into his cave.

She heard the Bear snoring and shifting, sounding like he was about to get up, but waiting for the sunlight to come streaming through his window.  Not having a window in his cave, she knew he'd be waiting forever.  So, just because she could, she began throwing acorns at him.

"Hey!!"  He said in his big gruff voice.
"Hey!!" She said in her little squeaky voice.

"What are you doing??"
"I'm trying to wake you up!!"
"It's not working."
"So you talk in your sleep??"
"I'm not talking to anyone right now."
"You're talking to me."
"Harrumph," he said as he turned over.

She threw 3 acorns in a row right at him, just for good measure.
"What do you want from me?" He growled.

"I want you to get up and move around. Bears are notoriously good for digging up the ground as they walk. And revealing new acorns."
"I don't wanna walk around. Besides, I'm a Bipolar Bear, and this is the Arctic, there isn't any possibility of acorns here.  And how did a Chipmunk like you get all the way up here?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, this isn't the Arctic. It's New York."
"Oh. I guess I lost my map. I'm supposed to sleep all winter, regardless. Wake me up when it's March."
"Well, as a matter of faaaaaaaaact," the Chipmunk said with a sigh, "It's May. MAY-be you lost your watch too!!" The Chipmunk giggled at her own pun.

He sat up and thought for second, a smile crossed his lips, despite himself. He still felt a strong, instinctive, inherent pull to stay curled up, asleep or not. He had wondered about hearing the sounds of boats and trains outside his cave, but had never bothered to investigate why the Amtrack trains had extended themselves up to the Arctic.

"You're just trying to get me to move for your own evil purposes!! You're just hungry!!  Find some other Bear!"
"Actually, you may not remember this, but the last time we had this same discussion, you ended up laughing."
"I did? I don't remember."

There was a lot of stuff he tried to forget.  And lots of other stuff he tried to remember.  Unfortunately for him, he realized the stuff that was important was also the dangerous stuff.  All the cliffs he had suddenly found himself looking over, the feeling of a vast emptiness that comes up on you when you are walking through the world.  All the things he had ever lost, his favorite toys, his favorite family members.  Bears don't have pockets, so they have to hold everything they own inside their minds.  But for him it was not enough.  He didn't spend his time thinking of pockets or baskets to wear as he walked around the woods.  He thought of shelves that he would build inside his cave.  A way to collect the world outside just for his cave.  It was easier that way.

"Look, Bi-Polar Bears are notorious for living in either the Arctic or the Antarctic. We seldom hang out any closer to the equator.  If we are anywhere in between, it usually means we are headed to one or the other.  You probably don't want to get in the way. "
"Don't be mad at me for telling you where you are.  You have an awful lot of rules in your head.  Some of which involve things that aren't true.  Come into the Sunshine.  Come out and play with me, and then at the end of the day, you can come back here."

He sat up blinking, not responding.  He couldn't come up with an argument, but he knew that he was big and stubborn, and this chipmunk was far too little to carry him away.

"Are you scared?"

More silence.  This Chipmunk was really persistent.  Maybe he SHOULD go outside the cave, show her how dangerous he could be.  He could eat her, or step on her, even just by accident.  He could get really mad, or maybe he'd start crying for no reason.  He couldn't imagine that the Chipmunk would like what she saw, no matter what.

"You know, lots of us are scared for all sorts of reasons. It helps to be nice to all the other members of the forest.  Especially with a big bright smile like yours.  Some other creatures could sure use your help to get un-sad,"
"I can't even help myself, how am I supposed to help anyone else?"
"No offense, but I think you're using the wrong tools. Let's see, you've got inertia, ingrained negative habits and a lot of stored energy.  What are you waiting for?"

He sat there thinking.  Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of sadness.  He wanted to go out, but he knew he couldn't.  And he couldn't tell her why.

"Not today. It will happen. I PROMISE.  In good time, it will."

He rolled over, and curled up in a little ball.  Well, as little as a big Bear like him could get, and he waited for her to go away.

The Chipmunk shrugged her shoulders.

And hopped off to get more acorns.

Idea

Hey.

The Boy is getting really shy about speaking Spanish (and he really needs to for school). I mentioned to him about how you were intimidated at the party, and too shy to play piano. I get cold feet every time I'm asked to sing.

Would you be interested in starting a club?

We could all do the things we are hesitant to do. And get experience in front of a friendly audience.

What do you think?

He responded:
That would be a lovely idea.

No commitment. Nothing further. Maybe it's plaintive, as if yes-but, it could never happen. Or just regular, yeah!

I wonder if .....

Union Square Park with Fresh Leaves

Sunlight through the leaves has always been enchanting to me.
Spring to look forward to.
Anxiety about things which will resolve themselves. They will happen or not.

What a lovely thing, to have a fallen blossom in your hair.

Superman had a party a week ago. I think I heard him laughing. He was too shy to play the piano. (Just like one little boy is too shy to speak Spanish) And I am too shy to sing.

We should start a club.

Peaceful day

You are the most complex language

Once Mrs. Byrne taught us
What a cypher was
Cypher on the snow
It could stand for Zero
Or a puzzle

I wrote a series of letters
Which did not repeat until
After a very long sequence
Remanding patience
Of an 8th grade teacher
Who had a pile of challenges in front of her

And who probably wanted nothing more than more coffee and a hot bath
I was her first

"What am I going to do when I get home?"

My Mother's crumpled face
The deciphered note in familiar red ink
"Drink poison"

--
And now you
Months after The Incident
By now, I would have thought you
Could have told me
About your reaction
About the breakdown soon after
And the change in meds
And why you turned Cold again
And why you can't leave the house
Without her
Anymore

Or maybe you've given up on me
Maybe I'm the meddling kid
Who wanted to yank the sheet from the ghost
Maybe you never wanted me in the first place
Or are sick of me
Or maybe you have forgotten the whole thing

I have no data from you

Cannot even imagine what an easy friendship with you would look like
I go to your door
Just as blank as a year ago
Expecting Rape or a kiss
Or conversation
(Not the Moody Blues, I wish I hadn't given them to you)

You are a country I am banned from
I should banish you from my mind
Forget that Kenya ever existed
No changing of my passport will get me in
--
May 3
How to fall in love with the Moon
1. Do not be put off by the cratered Head look
2. The glow is a reflection, so make sure that you are always beaming. And when you can't, at least try not to be argumentative.
3. There is something seductive about the distance, about the longing. Don't make that the main focal point of your relationship. Things will get awkward when he finally sits in your living room.
4. The craters actually look unattracrive up close.
5.there is something to be said for being an orb. No exercises required to keep up with flabby arm fat. No arms.
6. A strange Gravity pulls at the tides of the oceans. You are 98% water
7. The night of the full moon may be the only night he really seems present. He's still there the rest of the time, hiding, shy, a fingernail of his former self.
8. He's generally gone in the morning, unless he tries to linger. But he's only sporadically successful at it. The sun quickly steals the show, always remember how much you like the underdogs.

Refractions of The Setting Sun