Embarrassing Thoughts

Drive

Sun, 28 Apr 2013 23:01:56 -0400

I think I’ve frightened every boy I’ve ever loved
with my manic enthusiasm for things.
I throw my head back and laugh and
get a crazy look in my eyes
and they just
want to throw on the breaks.

I’m learning and learning
to be an adult, but don’t blame me, my dear
if I need a few moments of adolescent
crooning once in a while.

I’m learning to channel this energy,
this immense pain and anger
and joy and this rapture
and make something I can use.

A poem or a house - a garden
or a sculpted body. Yes, I’m learning
more and more that everything is a matter
of energy and what you do with it.

I cannot hold it in my chest anymore -
instead I’ll kindle it as a fire
instead I carve it into a knife
instead I chisel it into a tool
instead I sing it as a song
instead I write it as this poem
and use it to fuel me through this life.

Wish my bedroom was this put together.

Mon, 11 Mar 2013 18:22:15 -0400

Wish my bedroom was this put together.

photoboothchronicles: What another couple did with the mantle...

Thu, 21 Feb 2013 14:11:57 -0500

photoboothchronicles:

What another couple did with the mantle at the General’s Residence!

via Abby & Brian’s Wedding Part II | San Francisco Wedding Photography» JK Life Stories Photography Blog

He put an Edwardian ring on it :)

Mon, 22 Oct 2012 15:04:00 -0400

He put an Edwardian ring on it :)

Facing

Fri, 19 Oct 2012 02:37:48 -0400

We made it official
on Facebook. It isn’t real until
all of our friends and
past lovers have seen it scrawled
across a blue and white screen.

We add our names
to a list of hopeful couples
starting a life on the internet,
arranging the pixels to pronounce
their love.

One more post to add
to the parade
of babies and weddings
and breakups.

We made it official, didn’t we?
We’re going to try and the
whole, whole world of the
web knows, so it’s real.

I suppose, long ago
we would have
called up the paper,
sent out formal little cards
that folks would have held
in their bare hands.

Not today, today we pin
a note to the interwebs,
awaiting loving responses,
knowing we are finally moving
forward on our timelines.

Today we tell all those
half-hearted social media
flirtations, no more.

Today, we join together
on Facebook, facing unknown
internet territory,
pictures of our faces
telling the world.

Face to Face

Thu, 13 Sep 2012 23:53:00 -0400

* Another Poem about Marc from ‘08

You said to me you preferred face to face contact.
You kept my number in your phone for two weeks.
It waited there with all the other numbers awkward
and uncomfortable with a feeling like having to pee
in a place with no bathroom.

Then, our faces did meet, and even though my number had
given up all hope and become the depressed outcast of your
phone, you said let’s have dinner and you used my number
the next day to set it up, and my number experienced a
renewed sense of meaning in life.

So, our faces sat across from each other over a meal at a
Moroccan restaurant and had a very pleasant conversation
and they walked back to my apartment and there
continued to talk, and you said how you liked
human interaction and tangible products and angry music

all of which my face and my phone number approved of heartily
and in fact, our faces liked each other so much that they were
drawn toward one another at the end of the night and for one moment
we couldn’t stop them from touching.

It’s only the next day, but my face is thinking of yours, specifically my
lips feel that there was some unfinished business, and they have
stubbornly formed themselves into a semi-colon waiting for
the second part of their sentence, creating another awkward
feeling and forcing me to send you an email,

even though I know you prefer to speak in person. I am much more
articulate and secure in writing, and my message
is pleading with you to read between the lines or
rather to complete each sentence as you would in the SAT test
The longer my email stays in your inbox, the more
it begins to identify with my phone number,
which still hasn’t completed enough therapy to really be
over the trauma you caused it.

I try to comfort my email, saying there is no reason to be so
dramatic, email, you hardly even know this guy, so don’t
invest too much hope or desire or longing in him, because
it is a waste of emotion and you are probably just hormonal, email
so stop nagging me all day with your wants.

My email talks back, saying this is the first time in a long time
it has any chance of getting something resembling what it might
want, so it’s important not to let that go, and I have to agree
with my email’s logic, because my email is, after all, a part of me
and like me is floating in an in-between sort of world hoping
to grab onto something.

Some Oldies but Goodies

Thu, 13 Sep 2012 22:09:00 -0400

Marc and I are celebrating the four year anniversary of our first date this weekend, so I decided to resurrect some old but good poems from the beginning of our relationship. Here is the first:

I am Picturing Myself as You Right Now

I am picturing myself as you right now.
The other night you said, no that’s alright
I think I’m just going to head home when
I offered you a chance to come in my apartment
to use the bathroom or something. Of course
it was out of genuine concern. After all, I had
to go to the bathroom. You hadn’t used the bathroom
the entire night, and I was just trying to be considerate.

I hope you don’t think I was trying to be a slut and I
wanted you to come in and grab me and kiss me
and occupy the space next to me in my bed that night.
No, that would never occur to me, it isn’t even
occurring to me right now. So, you said goodbye
and you hugged me. You made it a long and
significant hug. I thought, is this hug trying to say
something to me? Does this hug want to become
something far greater than a hug?

You pulled away, but kept talking. You were smiling
but also kind of nervous, I think. And then you leaned in
for another hug. Another hug? Surely, this hug had bigger
ambitions, I thought, but maybe it was afraid to become what
it surely was meant to be, so I decided to encourage it by
making it a kiss on the cheek, but immediately before I could
think that kiss on the cheek became a kiss on the lips, such a
good little kiss that was just long enough.

So I am picturing how you smiled, I think the same smile
I gave you, a dumb and happy smile, but in a very dumb way.
And how you said “take care” before you left. I would never
say “take care”, but you would, so I’m picturing those words
coming out of my mouth; “take care”, I say and I, as you,
walk away in the direction of Grace Cathedral. There, I catch
a cab. It is easy catching this cab. I don’t stand out on the curb
waving and yelling “Taxi!”, because I don’t know how to whistle,
which is what would happen to me, but not you.

Apparently you have good luck with cabs, even though I never do,
and you go home to your apartment and you live there alone, and
you don’t have to say hello to anyone or make any phone calls.
You are OK with that, and you play a lone and solitary game
on your computer for a while before you go to bed,
and I’m not sure whether you think at all
about our kiss or toss in your bed, like I would, but you probably
wouldn’t, because you’re that type of guy.

I write you a letter the next day saying thank you thank you
thank you for kissing me last night. Well, it didn’t say that, but the
words if rearranged in a certain way would spell that out.
You waited precisely 28 hours to reply. I think you have a rule about
that. No answering emails less than 28 hours after they are sent
or maybe you only check your email once a day. If I were you,
which I am so far from being, I would check my email more
often.

I decided to follow suit and wait exactly 23 hours to send
back another emails. OK, I got impatient, and I thought if I raised
you and waited 32 hours, which would only be appropriate
for a demure girl, then the time in between our emails would
increase exponentially and we would never get in touch. When I did
write out that email I thought of a lot of things to say.

Hey you, I would say, did you know that I am very clever and pretty
and wouldn’t you like to answer my emails more quickly? Wouldn’t
you like to read my poems? Wouldn’t you like to read the poems that
are inspiring me right now? Wouldn’t you like to read my yelp postings
or my blog, because these would be good accoutrements to help you
get to know me and how clever and pretty I am.

I decided not to say that at all, I decided it would be best to say
hey didn’t you mention that blog about building a boat and something
regarding large and poisonous spiders? I want to read about those things.
I have recently become interested in both boats and spiders. They are
very interesting topics.

Oh and, I am adding this last part very cleverly as an afterthought, of course, I
didn’t think of it at all until I typed that thing about spiders, which reminded
me that I hadn’t seen a film in quite a while. No, I would say it’s been quite a
while since I’ve seen a film, and wouldn’t you like to be the one who
goes with me to watch a film, especially since it will be so momentous
being the first time in a long long time, since I saw a film.

I am picturing myself as you, you haven’t gotten the email yet. It is sitting
in your inbox like a little spider that might interest you and
be written about in your blog, if you were going to continue on the topic
of spiders. When you do open it, you will judge me for not calling
you up and asking you in person, which you would much prefer
and you will consider going with me, and you will probably think
this is moving too fast, and I can’t respond within 24 hours anyway,
so I won’t go.

Or maybe you will say, actually yes, it’s been a while
since I’ve been in a dark room, watching a film sitting next to a
clever and pretty girl, so I will say yes. Would you say that?
It would be so reassuring of my cleverness and prettiness
if you would just say that. Wouldn’t you?

The Seed

Tue, 11 Sep 2012 13:37:52 -0400

Lately I’ve had these
odd and incongruous
dreams where I’m pregnant.

In them I am so purely
happy and glowing,
just as one should.

Last night I was carrying
both a baby and a
beautiful succulent
plant.

I was so proud and
thrilled – I don’t think
in real life I could ever
be as absolutely elated
as I was in the dream.

You see, the fears and
complications of life
will always get at me
during the day.

Even five years from now
married and happily settled
in a house with trees,
I will feel that familiar
trepidation mixed with
love and joy.

My great, great grandmother’s tin where she kept her...

Sun, 02 Sep 2012 20:30:16 -0400

My great, great grandmother’s tin where she kept her hankies. It’s from an old candy company, and there was a poem by Emily Dickinson in it - If I can stop one heart from breaking… apparently she was a very kind-hearted woman.

Here’s one of the treasures my grandmother passed on to me...

Sun, 02 Sep 2012 19:29:30 -0400

Here’s one of the treasures my grandmother passed on to me recently - a lovely wine goblet.

My Sunglasses

Wed, 29 Aug 2012 00:08:00 -0400

Like the hat I wore to France and back, then lost somewhere on MUNI and the vintage coat I loved so much that I left at a dance studio and was taken from the lost and found before I could return, my sunglasses were more than just an accessory. The large black retro frames are now somewhere in San Francisco, perhaps on some young and slightly dishonest girl’s face right now. It is easy to lose your things in San Francisco – you often don’t have a car to stash them in or a large purse (too much weight to carry around). I have gotten more and more protective of my things over the years, less likely to leave them under my seat on BART or on the counter in a shop, but I am human and fallible and have managed to leave a few bits and pieces amongst the chaos that is SF.

My boyfriend says I hid behind them – used them to shut out the world, and sometimes that was true, especially if I was walking through a sketchy neighborhood or in an uncomfortable situation. But, they were also a symbol of glamour for me – a throwback to pictures of my grandmother when she was young and gorgeous and wore the biggest sunglasses she could find. Even though she was thin and blond (and I am not) I would sometimes catch my reflection in those sunglasses and see a glimmer of her.

I bought them three times. The first pair was lost as I tipped my head back to laugh on a boat during a Labor Day celebration with some friends and my boyfriend and the time. I found a replacement from the brand’s website the next day. The second pair I lost ironically also on a boat while gesticulating, just after I broke up with that boyfriend of many years. I sobbed afterward, not so much for the sunglasses, but for the loss of my old life and the fear of what was to come. I bought another pair after that and kept them for years until yesterday, when I left them somewhere in Union Square. I called every store I visited, but no one had found them. They’d been snatched up by some eager hands. I felt betrayed by my city – wouldn’t I have turned them in? What kind of person wouldn’t?

In the end I tried to dampen my outrage by purchasing a newer version of the old pair – they don’t have the nice little details of white marbling in the black frames, but they’re close enough, and I hope that girl who found my old sunglasses and put them right on, does some living in them, some laughing or some sobbing or something else befitting of a life in our city.

A Poem for Later

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 19:34:42 -0400

I am dreaming of other loves
again, but I don’t want to.
This beautiful San Francisco day
seems so small and so poignant
all at once.

We’re here in this tiny moment
before you ask, before we’re
sent tumbling in a hand-holding
trajectory toward life or that is
life.

It is a small, small moment
that feels so long. I’ve never
been one to rush time. I thought I’d be
17 forever.

All the ghosts of my past
are indecently throwing
themselves at me like ocean
waves.

They rush me and crowd
the space where patience
lives in my brain.

I have a feeling
we have to do this
before they pull me
under.

And for once, I feel ready –
a new and wondrous
and beautiful feeling.

Monday taco night! Refried beans, fresh corn, summer squash,...

Tue, 17 Jul 2012 00:24:00 -0400

Monday taco night! Refried beans, fresh corn, summer squash, bell peppers with a home made salsa fresca of heirloom tomatoes, avocado and jalapeno. Yum!

Failing

Mon, 18 Jun 2012 23:38:00 -0400

It is a good and a smart brain
that I have.
I forget that sometimes.
Long ago, so long ago
it did math – calculus even
and it wrote poetry
and it excelled in physics.
It pontificated on literature.

I must not waste it
by drinking and
watching television.
It can understand budgets
and marketing strategy
and user experience.

It is a good brain,
that I have neglected for
so long, it forgets how to
think and even how to talk
correctly.

Poor brain, I must not waste it
forget about it
neglect it.

It washes away
like a stone
on the edge of the sea,
becoming smooth
and smoother every day.

Screens

Sat, 02 Jun 2012 20:33:49 -0400

I often think
we lost our innocence
as a culture
somewhere in the 1980’s
or maybe the 90’s.
It isn’t a new thought,
but one that troubles me
nonetheless.

There is something
about the idea of
going to work
and never once
looking at a screen
that is so
heartbreakingly
beautiful,

something so simple and
clean about
putting a pen to paper
speaking to people
face to face
dialing a telephone
with a rotary.

It is painful
knowing we can
never go back
to a time before
pixilated light and
instant messenger
and texting.

I guess they thought this
about the phonograph
and the electric light
and the first
television set.

I keep thinking
that was different
but maybe it wasn’t
so much.

Dinner! Quinoa with sauteed veggies (garlic and ginger and...

Wed, 30 May 2012 15:30:43 -0400

Dinner! Quinoa with sauteed veggies (garlic and ginger and tamari) and tahini sauce (tahini, coconut milk and miso with cayenne).

gastrogirl: banana-walnut oatmeal bars with salted caramel and...

Wed, 30 May 2012 01:49:30 -0400

gastrogirl:

banana-walnut oatmeal bars with salted caramel and chocolate.

Yuuuum

Dressed somewhat apropos for Maple & Vine (Taken with...

Sun, 22 Apr 2012 02:39:26 -0400

Dressed somewhat apropos for Maple & Vine (Taken with instagram)

Burritt Room - best remember the Maine in town. (Taken with...

Thu, 19 Apr 2012 17:20:44 -0400

Burritt Room - best remember the Maine in town. (Taken with instagram)

Growth

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 21:04:00 -0400

As if to tell me
that the world goes on
life happens while I’m out,
the lentils left in our
sink catcher sprouted
after two days of
neglect.

The curly little tails
just waiting to give new life
into the earth, not ready
for the waste bin at all.

My work plant is alive,
I know – just like a deaf
and blind old man. It seems
each time I return from the
weekend it has chosen
the oddest place to reach out
a wayward and phallic root
grasping at the air, pointing
toward my desk and searching
for a place to plant itself.

I couldn’t help it, I had
to cut it off the other day,
poor thing, I said, I hope
that didn’t hurt.