'you', of course, is 'me.' i feel fucking pathetic and used right now. i want to do self-loathing unwise things. i am tired of being my own fucking cheerleader and giving myself tinny-voiced pep talks: today might suck, self, but tomorrow may be the best fucking day of your life!
*
i went to olympia on wednesday. i am so fucking relieved to no longer live there. it was nice to visit it objectively, not feeling haunted by the past. the vagrants still stumble down state street; the older women still wear mall-bought caftans; the men of all ages still have scrubby beards and tangled locks. the "coexist" bumper sticker is very popular there. i walked by the places we used to go, none of which are still in business. 'the reef' was an excellent diner downtown... it's now boarded up. 'the ribeye' (a 24hr dive with tater tots and pulltabs- i never played, but liked knowing i had the option) has been renamed something generic, even though 'the ribeye' had been there for 40-something years. i never went 'out' in olympia. i drove around a LOT. i know all the ax-murderer-sheltering back roads of thurston county, whipping down the narrow lanes at 2am, alone with the high beams on, smoking, blaring music. i cannot even relate to that era- the facts, when recalled, frighten me with the extent of how fucking unhappy i was.
5th avenue, midday. the only thing that crossed my path, honest to christ, was an obese brown rat.
surely i can wrangle some positive memories of that era/area:
-walking from the grocer to my own place, the funky studio in downtown across from the library, where i lived for 2 months while there was a restraining order against t. irises, i think, were on sale. i am never one to buy cut flowers, but that day i did. i bought them totally for myself. the trees were beginning to blossom. i distinctly remember smiling as i walked.
-t and i driving around aimlessly one afternoon. we passed a mexican restaurant and he said "ohhh, OKAY" and abruptly pulled into the parking lot. we hadn't even talked about getting food. moments like that were, and will always be, the things that completely charmed me.
-the smell of the co-op. i would stop there before my overnight shift. they had the curry cashews before anyone else carried them (they are now available in the bulk section of fred meyer and somehow not nearly as delicious).
-wandering the flats of mud bay, alone, watching seagulls watch me. something about a beach makes me feel like a little kid. i tap my foot against the wet sand and admire its tensegrity. i always pick up and examine the crabs under rocks. i stomp on the kelp that we used to call "chicken feet." sometimes it squeaks. sometimes it just flattens with a sigh.
-the night the remastered, un-phil-spectered version of 'let it be' came out, KZOK played it uninterrupted in its entirety. i made t drive around for the 42 minutes of the album. "i think i actually might not hate this 'long and winding road'" i said.
-buying used (old, kitschy, culinarily unpalatable) cookbooks at the cooper's point goodwill. there are a lot of old compound-dwelling folks in those parts; hence, that goodwill is a pretty good one for books and ephemera.
-b picking grapes off the vine behind OPE. he actually did make wine from them but i never got to sample it.
-hearing 'the lamb lies down on broadway' on the college radio station.
-the creepy death-house i looked at when i needed to move. it was a saggy-roofed hovel in the middle of an overgrown field on a dead end street; it even had tarpaper over the windows. the interior ceiling was maybe 7' high. i was polite to the guy who showed me the space. i thought "well, i want to be alone, right? i could plant sunflowers or something." but the place made my skin crawl. bad, horrible things had happened there- i could feel it. i left and clearly remember reminding myself to trust my fucking instincts.
-the bulk aisle at the downtown metropolitan market.
-a's bombastic dahlias.
-the black houses of olympia.
-the railroad tracks underneath hwy 510.
*
there really isn't much else. every other memory has a patina of ugliness, loneliness, and hopelessness. and a triplicate of '-ness' words sounds extremely contrived and immaturely dramatic.
*
to the present: 'last dance with mary jane' plays, usurping 'check your head.'
when i was in oly on wednesday, i did see this, which thrilled me- that is, after the initial "oh NO... that's AWFUL" reaction.
i immediately got the fucking south park line about 'going to the plane'arium' in my head- so my trek through downtown olympia was backgrounded with that particular nugget.
*
i went to see my parents. i hadn't been to their lair since june. i returned home with a sackful of vegetables from their garden. i had never picked beans- fuck, i didn't even know one picked beans- until wednesday. my parents got drunk. they both held it well, but i watched how many times they refilled their glasses. my father was very pleased about the long-awaited installation of his tap (now he doesn't have to go to the garage to get more beer). my mother had 1.5 bottles of wine, then at least 2 pints of beer; i lost count with my father. they showed me their stunning pictures of yellowstone- the pools look amazing. "it's like polenta!" i said dumbly. we complained about the government and our kin for a while, during which time i asked them for some food to absorb the 2 glasses of wine i'd had ("oh! of course!" my mother replied, sounding startled), and then my father started bleating about their new television. they certainly do buy a lot of expensive shit now. "it's digital!" my father hissed rapturously. "have you ever seen how much makeup news anchors wear?" he flipped impatiently through their hundreds of stations and we passed 'raising arizona.' "ooh!" my mother and i said at the same time. thus: the first thing i have (knowingly) seen on a digital television is the last 30 minutes of 'raising arizona.' "you wantin' we should freeze, we can't rightly drop!" i recited along without realizing it.
i fucking love that movie. i love how 'dreams' are an idea that we can never honestly apply to ourselves.
*
writing makes me feel so much better.
*
today i went to d's graduation from cortiva. i met his parents for the first time. they made me very fucking sad- what uncommunicative, depressing dickheads. i said to another friend who was there for him: "i can't believe he grew up in that environment." "well, he is adopted" she replied. "but-" they reminded me of b's parents, but infinitely worse. i glanced back at them (they were across the room) right after he received his diploma. neither were looking at the stage. that made me fucking sad.
so i can understand him blowing me off afterwards- i can understand a lot of his prickish behavior more clearly now- but fucking goddamn it, what if i'm having a bad day too? i petulantly think that way. and that's stupid, and i need to soldier up and get over it, and nothing is that important.
*
you know what i want? i want to make love. i want to be with someone with whom i can lie beside all night, us holding each other, and i want to go out for a fucking diner breakfast in the morning. that is what i want to be able to take for granted- i don't want to settle, so why do i keep disrespecting myself into thinking that's my only option?
*
the graduation was cool. white people cannot clap a rhythm if their lives depended on it. i got teary a few times. i sensed great pride in some people in the audience and resigned obligation in others (as with d's folks). i sucked on 2 lozenges in 2hours. my favorite teachers are still my favorites, based on what they said today.
*
my grades for 5th term came yesterday: i have a 3.6 GPA. it took 15 years of fucking around to actually be competent in school... and, slackly so, 'competent' is still plenty good enough for me.
it's just fucking massage school. who gives a fuck? does anyone even notice when i leave the room? do i remember them?
the lights here just dimmed. miles davis hisses on the hi-fi.
the pendulum is very low. i feel like an annoying goddamn litle girl.
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