ouch

except it doesn't hurt anymore. and i've grown up. i've started using punctuation. my publicist told me to. she told me it seemed decisive. which is funny, i've never been that. ask olivia. ive never been that. see. see what i mean? but hey, lets write again. i mean, let's write again. let's talk about it. someone opened up the conversation. they always do: how did you get to LA? why are you here? what do you DO here? it's over time, become less of an impression and more of a conversation i hate to have. no matter what i say. i'm a horse trainer, teacher, yoga follower, drinker, server, lover, waiter, it's all the same feeling. oh really, that's cool. so what do you think of....(fill this with asinine annoying tedious noun subject here) i remember my bus from the airport to art school at 16 and some super intimidating guy with a fro asked me who my favorite writer was. it has messed me up ever since. it was always wrong, always someone they didnt know or expect. always a test. are you cool enough to hang out with me? the other night i remember, i'm a writer. he says, who do you read, who do you like, c'mon, as i bash away from it, who do you love? and to me, how can you say? i'm all the sudden my self in my junior year quoting bay area authors he's never heard of, or classics, to appease him, and myself, or ones, new, monumental to me, that he's never, will never read. and then its like, oh hey, steinbeck, what about that, and so you say sure, just to be sure, and we're having conversations where he's in high school and i'm a teacher and east of eden is amazing but not anything that is my life my right now. i end the conversation. not because i can't talk about these books, these stories, but my reading is different now, my writing, it's not about what was but taking that and bringing it to how we do new.

"you're too old to be so shy"

sometimes i forget what city i am in and when i wake up its like being reborn and starting all over. do you ever feel like that? like you don't know who you are? and so you have to go take a long walk and drink something and try to make sense, find some clues, you try to call people whose numbers you used to know but no one answers and so you feel a bit more lost. even your reflection doesn't help, because, haven't you noticed, don't you feel like this sometimes, that you don't recognize who you have become? that you look in the mirror and no one is looking back. that maybe it has all disintegrated into this dream life and nothing is real but the night sweats and the gasping for air. maybe that person looking back at you is on the other side trying to figure it out too. maybe its just some big disgusting trick.
wandering the city can help sometimes. yesterday i just needed to drive. i just wanted to take the car out and drive the 101 and be alone and feel that little bit of freedom that driving gives you, roll the windows down and play music and feel young. or just forget that things are bothering me, just drive, no real destination, get lost a little bit. just drive. and then the red hot chili peppers came on and there i am 17, driving down some LA freeway, smoking a cigarette and the sun is warm and there is a breeze and it makes me think that every thing is just right, everything is how it should be. im not driving aimlessly, im driving to my friends house and my boy is at home, our home and things are good, they're not aimless, they might be scary but they are sure.

sunset

you're conflicted
standing alone in the
beer aisle at 3:30am

toluca lake house party
you keep telling me
this
is real
life
smoking an unlit cigarette
and fondling the
plants

99 cent stores
hollywood's 24 hour lights
donuts, long stretches of
side walk and burnt out
hotel rooms

you stopped me for directions
it's easy to get lost, isn't it
you had said
grinning

I was wearing a fire department shirt & you were a lifeguard
halloween-less
in this drive thru culture
its rare to find someone to talk to
at 4am

nobody knows

at a red light a plastic bag gets
caught on your
heel
an extra accessory
some man, a blue sweatsuit and
powdered doughnut face
asks, "hey, hey
am i good looking enough
to be with you?"

but you keep walking, dragging
the plastic bag
and worrying
about how your hair smells and if
you'll be late
to work

The bag wondering
if it will go home
again, and never
the answer
" it's stuck."
she said, reached down and scraped it
off
and again
wet
it touched me
my hands, sopping liquor, dirt -

too grimy to talk about, but
we do
we can't help it, that feeling of fingernails filled
with earth
and girls cant keep secrets, don't you know
its just darkness
and doorknobs and
"is this his room?"
between bathrobes and bad
religion

collaboration
gt & wb

other lovers

I was the blonde, hoping for a
hard revolution
just watching the band
on friday night

most things wont come to those
who wait
in the town of forsaken angels
7/11 is the only thing
we can rely on

they shared a cab tonight
the driver blasted adele
and they frisked each other in the backseat
while remembering old
lover's
names

(please don't run away
little bear
this mornings water brushed seascape skies
are miles away
la vida sin ti )

everyone's
looking for something
stained lips, fat tips
wine & peanut butter cups
trace
flower imprinted thighs like
tired lace

suddenly you're moving in
the questions of how to shelve
our pasts
a bass plugs, plughs, plughns from a neighbors
studio, he and his girlfriend
sharing separate beds

here,
it gets so that
song lines, or random book recommendations
from strangers
are the closest things you get
to love

clutch

i wonder about you out in the world. if youre alright. what youre doing and how youre smiling and who's making you and just mostly, if youre smiling, if youre happy. if youre lonely. if youre still happier being alone. im sure you are. youve been solitary since you were born and you never needed anyone, even if they have slipped in and convinced you at times you do. you are a loner, a lone wolf, just like your daddy, nomading and when others open theirs you pull down metal gates, a waterfall of steel, to close off that sweet heart. i hope you have been able to forgive people. to forgive yourself for the choices weve made. the ones you had control over and the ones you didnt.

there are two kinds of choices, you know. the one the chooser makes and the one the chooser affects. choices can be done to someone, an assault. and then. they cant be undone. we make excuses, we plead i had no choice and mean it. i didnt know what else to do, and these are valid. sometimes life shoves us up in a corner and we have to box our way out, fists flying.

i never wish i hadnt met you though, sweet ness. i never wish you hadnt been born or pretend that i havent adored your smile since that first time. i remember that morning i met you, that room shook with love and i felt like, at that time i wouldve done anything to protect you, your soul so pure, so surprised. i wanted you to look at me like that forever. a nocturnal gaze. im sorry i let you down, there were times i never called and i spent a lot more time thinking about how i felt about you than telling you. and im sorry about that cause im sure it would have felt good to know. i hope youre getting everything you wanted. that youre cared for and careful and learn to let the world show you who you can be, let people love you, trust yourself so you can trust others. its the sweetest feeling in the world. i know your home hasnt always felt safe for you, so mostly, lovely child, i hope you find a home. in yourself. in your friends. i hope its strong and sturdy and warm and filled with flowers, open breezy windows and laughter, a pool out back, maybe a library. or whatever you want. because its dawning on me now that maybe thats not what youd want, maybe youre a different person now. one i dont know. so whatever you want. i hope you make a life thats all yours.

in the future, we'll meet on a street corner and i think (obsess) about what will happen. of how you will see me, of what we will talk about, of how i can talk to you without the first words being im sorry. or yours being why.

and i dont know. maybe its better this way. a giant tree in the middle of my backyard brain that i cant get to the highest branch to see neighboring towns, the future. i cant see what happens from the top. im down here, picking apples, shaking blossoms. maybe its better baby, that i dont know you anymore. that my mess isnt making your mess messier. i had such great plans for this, for the person i wanted to be for you and it just didnt work out, somethings dont, i know you know better than most about that. for now i am okay with the not knowing, because knowing is missing and wanting to change things that we just cant. i know the difference now. and besides, ive boxed you up ages ago, as im sure you have with me and all the old things i bought you and you tired of, so quickly. vow to be better, promise to love yourself, learn to forgive me and even on those nasty nights youll have alone at some bar in some future town talking with your friends, shaking your head, know that it gets better, that no one meant for it to fall apart, and that you always have a choice.

do the work

LA isnt as sad as i remember it.

walking the streets at night, stumbling against brick walls, fibers of sweaters getting caught on rusted lamp posts, jumping off curbs, avoiding strange pools of water leftover from last weeks rain.

it wouldnt be LA if there werent rivers of water full of unknown debris, she says, the santa monica pier in the distance, hair in her eyes, sun too bright, too high above us for it to be any sort of golden hour. whats wrong buddy, she asks, arm around my waist and mine around her shoulders. i cant put it into words, i tell her, i dont know, i say, and its one of those things you cant put your finger on, mercury under fingertip, it keeps slipping away.

that last time in LA we were all still drinking and we went out to a warehouse party and watched the sun come up and drove drunk and rode the freeways and skylines and ate tacos and dressed too tight, too black and swore a lot and so some things are still the same, at least, not everything has changed. t and j and i had drove down in the truck, smoking cigarettes and stayed at some boys house behind a strip club on sunset and i see things sometimes, now, that i remember from that trip, that house in the hills we had gone to and laid in a treehouse in the sun, all of us together, our arms resting against one another, quiet, happy. it was the first time i fell in love with LA. i had been sad then, in my life, and LA had made me happy, i was looking for something and it happened, i remember going back to the city and things feeling different, brighter.

but its just me now. i have that lonely feeling i cant shake, but that only i can change. i dont want to get lost here, without my sister or anyone to pull me back up. i came here for a reason but its becoming less and less clear what that was. i thought i was following my heart but i should know better than that by now.

in the mirror now, above the sink, i look at my face, but try not to for too long, there are things i dont recognize and dont remember moving, happening, something has settled above my brow, a finality, its almost as if i have resigned that this is my life. i have stopped struggling, i have stopped fighting, that part of me, that part that felt fiery, is fading.

dont get me wrong, there are more magical days here than not. but not even santa monica, venice or the pacific ocean yesterday could cool me. not even the water or the air, that smell that i love could make me feel better. yoga helped, good food helps, laughing with mia was great, and the thought of you, out there, making beautiful things makes me feel connected somehow, keeps me productive but somethings gotta change around here. theres got to be more to it than early summer and tea and cigarettes. theres got to be more here, i keep thinking, we've got to push harder, get more serious, be more bold.

and by we, i mean, me.

i once said LA was a sad place, and i didnt mean it. i was just a sad girl, and every city has its dark side, every grey day has its comfort in covers. i can be brighter than this place, i can work harder than i have before. i can make this city mine. i have all the right tools.