April 26th, 2005


I got home about thirty minutes ago....

And have been digging through old paper journals....
some nearly 15 years old--
looking for a poem that began to trace itself over and over
in my brain on the steps up to my 3rd floor flat.

I can't find it--but I can hear the beginning, and I NEED
to read the rest of it,
I know I'm trying to tell myself something.

IT begins:

And she called again
When she said she would not.
Too much spent ink
on the sum of letters
that were His name....

This will make me nuts.
I know I have it recorded on an old tape,
somewhere--because I hear it in my own voice.
Memorised off that tape, not the page.


I have tomorrow off.
At Last.
  • Current Music
    Mystery Girl


I found it.
In my Grandfather's filing cabinet,
in a file of ancient Loose papers I cannot find
a "proper" place for.
Here it is....
(there's a lump in my throat--fuck, *shakes head* of course....)

Collapse )

I was twenty-one.
I was much much wiser....
when I was twenty-one.

*smirks at herself*

(and Friends...it's TYPED, on typing paper....
real keys. A ribbon. Ink.

Why yes, I do save every scrap of paper,
why do you ask?)
  • Current Music
    Love is all
The Sisters


Still reeling a little....

I could only remember the line that applied
to tonight.

And she called again
When she said she would not.

But it was kicking me in the back of the head.

Wanted me to remember the last
the last lines.

May she wake one morning
with cigarette
and after much coffee
to the tepid realisatioin
that the dark spot she claws for
in the shiny eyes
of others

is a reflection.

I guess I've been about mirrors, for longer than I thought.
We all build our own Mythology, 'acknowledged' or otherwise.

I was down all day.
Trudging through the coffee grounds, getting
the last day before my first day off in forever...OVER.

And climbing the many steps, to get Home...
that line came into my head.
And wouldn't leave
until I dug
and dug
and dug
and FOUND that old piece of paper.

Even though I couldn't REMEMBER...
i remembered.

This hurt isn't NEW.
And what I'm looking for--
isn't HIM.

What I need, I haven't really come to understand.
It's still inside me.

I feel better.
  • Current Music
    I Say A little Prayer for You

Something in Me....has always wanted...To see my Bones.

I remember a Sunday Morning....
Pulling up as the SUN ROSE--in front of my parent's house on Sioux Trail,

I was in the borrowed '84 Ford Mustang hatch back, powder blue.
Actually--had to be '93--I didn't have a license until I was 23.


Was seeing a COMIC BOOK DEALER (always said I was 'dating a Dealer')
named Karl Sol. His Pop was a UT History Professor--worked on the DC
Holocaust Museum...Started the Project. His Mom was a Buddhist.

Wildly enough...his folks weren't still together....

But he had a shrine, and didn't eat pork.
I didn't either--and we both liked Comic Books.

We met in a bar.


But I would borrow the car.............
and go visit him.
And my parents didn't acknowledge my absence.
In those days, they were pretty much just glad I was around.

I would sneak in, dress for church, and sleep through it.


I was sitting there, behind the wheel........
A little drunk.
A little high.
A little bit more than anything I should have been
behind the wheel
as the sun was rising on a Sunday morning
in front of my little house on Sioux Trail.
In Austin Texas.

(wow, I DID try drugs before I was 25!)

((The things you learn when you talk to yourself...))

And I put my head down on the steering wheel and REALLY

wondered what my skull looked like.

Not in a morbid "i want to die way"

but simply--sad,
that I would never get to see it.

I just wanted to SEE it.
Hold it.
Run my fingers along the spaces
that held my eyes, my tongue,
The very helmet of SELF?

I didn't answer a lot of questions in Sunday School that morning.
But--in the same breath--my PARENTS didn't ask very many either.

That didn't last long, but it was SWEET while it did.

When they cracked the whip, finally--I thumbed my nose and
moved in with a bartender I'd met two weeks earlier.



Ah yes.........1993.

What a year.

This picture was taken in a photobooth....

disophy1 took it to a place that could make pictures bigger,
Laid down the cash. I have an 8X6 print. IT wasn't cheap.
Remember when it was THAT Barbaric???


::Kisses Charles on the Nose::

Now, you send me a thing the size of a pack of GUM....
To cheer me up--

It has little ear plugs and holds 139 songs.
(i know you said it only would hold 120--but gev made it
work with the deposit of 1200 songs Mr Smith left on my Itunes...
and when all was said and done I was laughing...


::rests her head on the steering wheel::

::::closes her eyes::::

I can live my Dream.


There are machines out there....
that can measure my skull.
Through my flesh.
And carve it out of something
just hard
and just soft....enough.
With Lazers!

I live in a world.

Where I can SEE my BONES.

Hold them in my hands.

That's the World we live in.
what will we do with it....

Will we get our Scooter fixed????

How long will those loverly little things
on MARS keep sending us signals?

Will we get over Mr Smith?

Will the Final Star Wars placate?
Will Superman have a good costume?
And do we really want a Batman with a gun???
(we do.)

And for the love of THE SISTERS--Joss, pick a good WWOMAN.
or to clay with the lot of ya.

Time for bed.
We thinks SO.

Last Beer.........

Electric Page.................................

Day OFF.

Work for the devil.
Always have.
She's just got more money this time.

Same construct.

I know all the gods are the same,
it's their FIGHT that makes them stand out.

We build them, and then bow down.

Energy is finite.

Watch out--where you spend yours.

Be careful what you swallow.

And pad your knees
when you can.

*blows a kiss*

Look for your BONES.

Hold them in your hands
when you can.
  • Current Music
    Superhumans/Halloween On The Barbary Coast


Got a lot done.

My kitchen is full of loverly things now.....
Blood oranges and bananas and short grain organic brown rice
sesame oil, turbinado sugar, serrano peppers, green green leafy spinach
a gallon of Home-made lime aid (fresh squeezed by CM, sugar and water by Ginger!)
A thick loaf of dark whole grain bread, sliced boars head baby swiss and smoked turkey
grape tomatoes and GRAPES!!! Big ones!


for only the second time in the 5 year history of my Fountainhead experience...




Gonna be a long night here on the old Blinky Box Folks,
buckle up and lean back....


I decided to cut my own hair.
Trimmed over the ears and left the daggers on my cheeks.
I did good.

Maybe later I will have the nerve to try and use the stuff zutroy
installed to help me post pics again...and show Ya!

(Think: ROMULAN and you're pretty much there. ^_^)

Went through my paper work for the scooter, insurance and what not....
Didn't actually DO anything, but I have a better Idea of what I NEED to do.

Baby steps.

It is, after all....Parked at Mr Smith's house....
And is the last connection I have to him.

I'm no dummy.
I know why my brain is dragging it's feet on all this.........
I know why I'm stalling.

But--again, KNOWING really isn't as much of the Battle as people
would lead you to believe.

I know a LOT of things about myself--that need adjusting.
Doesn't really put the tools in my hand, though.



I think Kevin is coming by after work tonight....
(You old school LJ Friends may remember him as Comic Book Hero,
the cute comic collecting little stoic boy, who used to live down stairs from me,)

He still works at CM....and gave me a long long full body hug when he saw me
this afternoon. We both still had our iPods plugged into our ears....and I couldn't
help but giggle.

We all have our own Sound Track now....in this little movie.

Could be fun.
He's quiet.....but Oooooh he has such WONDERFUL toys!!!

  • Current Music
    Unfinished Business

This SAX is cutting me up...Nice.

I had no idea Mr Smith had put THAT much music in here....
I'm still stumbling across it.

(yes, I've yet to truly grasp the WHOLE of my New Blinky Box)

I waited tables at The Elephant Room for a year...
Back in the late 90's. Okay--the year from March '98 to March '99.
A Friend...the wife of the man who painted the BELOVED painting on my wall....
(Nathan Jenson's WOMAN PAINTING)
worked there.
Heard through "The Family" I was out of work.
Didn't hear--why.
Showed up on my doorstep to GIVE me the job.
I was stunned.

Steven had blown his brains out January 27th, and I still hadn't gotten my shit together.
She was an Angel.

SHE...My dear Cassandra--just knew I needed a job, and loved me.
Baffled by my story, she took me down the stairs
to that dark low ceilinged little shot-gun
of a basement Jazz Club.
And *POOF*
I was a cocktail waitress.
(*Edit: She has a Masters in Art History now, I think she's teaching.
they have a little one now. *smiles*)

I'd never known ANYTHING about Jazz before.
I thought songs needed words.
(i know i know know--we all grow SOMEWHERE.)

I learned SO much there.

Met so many amazing people.

Learned how to listen, differently.

One night Tony Campise played something...
on his horn...
That made me stand still--with drinks on my tray...
and cry.
Tears just rolled down.

Hand steady under my tray, I wiped my face with the other arm
and went to make excuses to the table waiting for their drinks.....

They all allowed as how--really--they didn't mind so much.


That was a good year.

I got to chat about one of my favourite subjects--Austin Architecture--with
a guy who likes old buildings too, and Absolut & soda.

Forrest Whitaker.

(Yeah--he likes Jazz too.)


Honestly--a swell guy, no EGO.

(and I'm such a dork, I didn't realise who he was...right away.
I just thought he was visiting and was interested in old buildings.
I told him the ELEPHANT ROOM's story--and it went from there)

Then I played goalie to keep the little fan girls off him.


(i'm small--but I'm not a bad bouncer. It's all in how you hold your head.)

All that--from a song
with no words.



  • Current Music