Thursday, May 31, 2007

Went to the Cantab last night. I got there a little late and had to read first. I do not recommend reading first.

I talked again to Carlos Williams and I can't tell if he's shy or if I creep him out.

Yesterday sucked. Today isn't looking worse, but it isn't looking better. I miss so many of my friends.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Upward Bound - Where Are They Now?

Right now I am weirdly, giddily happy that my two most favorite students from the summer program I tutored for last summer are now dating. I knew Akeem had a crush on Mariah last summer, but she was going out with some loser, as sometimes happens in youth.

Perhaps this is creepy or pathetic since they're sixteen and I haven't seen them in person in almost a year, but I always thought those two would make a good couple. I am vindicated and pleased.

Monday, May 28, 2007


I took a walk today and saw so many young people out walking and people smiled at me and I thought it was so great so many people had something to smile about on a pretty holiday. I saw friends' parents who I haven't seen in months and they were kind and wise to me about my life's decisions.

I went to Stone Soup tonight and read and read well I think and I talked to Ryk McIntyre and Adam Stone and a bunch of other folks who were all very nice. Chad said he wanted to make me a feature this summer. It's all so exciting.

Still trying to focus on these good, art related things happening so I don't think of boys and dogs and houses and balconies and money and roommates and allergies and losing friends and missing other friends and what I'm going to do next year. I may be succeeding.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Ultimate Fighting

Last night I went with two friends from work to ULTIMATE FIGHT NIGHT. The ULTIMATE FIGHTING was nowhere near as exhilarating as the several real fights that broke out among the macho and wasted bar patrons.

Guys were body-slammed. Guys were knocked out. Guys picked their girlfriends up and carried them away from the brawling. Security came and were dragged into the fight. The cops came and the fight was moved out into another part of the bar. This went on for several minutes. I and my friend Mallory stood right there, feet away, and we couldn't stop laughing.

Some people forget they're not on TV.

Friday, May 25, 2007

Stress and Moving

My life is filled with a lot of stress right now. I don't know if I'm handling all of everything as well as I could, but who does that anyway? I'm doing the best that I can, that's all I know.

Overall, I feel happy and contented in general. About a month and a half ago, I broke up with my live-in boyfriend of five years. It was hard and scary, but I know it was the right thing to do. I feel happier in a deep part of myself, and I feel relief.

He will be moving out soon, and I have to decide what I'm doing about the apartment. I'm thinking of calling the landlord and seeing if I can get out of the lease early, but then where to go? Do I find roommates, another place around here in Brighton or Allston? Do I move somewhere else in Boston? Do I leave, follow the road, go stay for four or five months with my brother and his will-then-be wife in Ann Arbor, going down through Indiana, through the South, the West, ending up finally on that other coast like I've always wanted?

But good things are happening here. I am getting published. My work is getting complimented. I am making connections. Would the scene in another city be like this? Be worse? Be better?

Should I stick it out here until I've drunk it dry, like I did with Bloomington? Until I have taken and channeled all it can offer me, until my blood runs with the dark filthy water of the Charles?

So much is dependent on so many things which have not yet resolved. I am trying not to think of the stressful things. They will work themselves out when they can. Instead I will focus on those things that are going well. How in the past week, both Jack McCarthy and Ryk McIntyre told me they liked my poetry, and how I'm getting a few things published in small but real places, and how I'm getting so close to finishing my novel.

In two weeks I'll be back in Indiana for my brother's wedding. I have not even begun to think of how that will be, but the idea makes me happy.

Thursday, May 24, 2007


The summer's almost here and after summer comes fall then winter and so I have to figure out what I'm doing, if I'm staying here or going. Here they like my writing and they want to publish it and stop me after I read to tell me I'm good even when they're older and respected and who am I some kid almost just reading about sex and cigarettes. The lit scene here grows on me and poetry is actually respected here and people read novels, so maybe it is a good place for me to be.

But then I want to sell my books and my jewelry barely worn, meant for some other version of me, some other life I could have lived, that people expected me to live, but wasn't for me, and take my car and drive away, because here I am reminded of my loneliness by the people around me. Here I am so allergic to the air. Here I want always what I cannot have. Here I see faces that remind me.

It's always my dream to go out and travel. Wind up on the west coast where my heart tugs me. Will there I want what I cannot have? Will there they like my words?

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Intermittent Report

Last night I saw Jack McCarthy's feature at Stone Soup. I am inspired.

My sinus infection returned, but is again subsiding. Tonight after work I stopped in the playground of the school on my street. I sat on top of the slide and looked at the crescent moon. My headphones played Joni Mitchell. After thirty minutes or so I slid down the twisting chute and walked home. It is a good day.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007


Tonight I went for the first time in months to the Cantab open mic in Central Square. It was the best poetry reading experience I've had in a while.

The crowd there makes noise -- meaning they laugh when you're funny and when they like a line, they whistle, or yell, or hoot, or clap, or all of the above. It's a little disconcerting, and I don't know if I should pause or what, but when I read tonight they made a lot of noise, and I think that's a good thing.

There's this boy there I've seen a few times. His name, poignantly, is Carlos Williams. He's really good. Every time I see him read I'm floored. He goes back to his stool after he reads and sits alone with crossed arms watching. Tonight I talked to him. He's nineteen, but looks even younger. Unlike a lot of poets I meet, he's modest and unassuming. I gave him my email and asked if he wanted to send each other our stuff. I hope he does.

Then as I was leaving, Jack McCarthy stopped me to tell me I was good. He asked me to come to his Stone Soup feature on Monday. I was flattered. If I can get off work, I'm going to go.

I forgot to eat again today. After I have dinner, I'm going to work on my novel until I pass out. Yes, remember, art. Marry your art, he'll never let you down.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Two Types of Pictures

1) Today I went downtown to help my friend Caleb out with a photo project. I had fun, but I know I would be a better model if I weren't so self-conscious. I'm also way more critical of my appearance than I'd like to be. (Caleb took both my profile picture and the picture to the right last summer in Indiana.)

2) I've been trying to see the world as the big picture. In the big picture, sadness, loss, longing, and pain are beautiful. I can't explain how, but I can see it when I see everything. I can see the big picture more and more, but sometimes it escapes me, and I become sad again. The creeping feeling of depression returns, sometimes for a day, sometimes a few hours. Calm has been coming back though. My mood lately can shift in an instant, and again I love the intricate play of the world.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Ain't it Just Like the Night

I'm working more and more nights and remembering the freedom, silence, and solitude of being nocturnal. No thoughts are as poignant as the ones at four am.

The city is a different animal at night. The streets are a jungle, the common people begin to prowl. From rooftops the skyline, the horizon, everything is clear. The quiet movement of the wind interrupted by a single car at intervals. What more does anyone need to be inspired?

Saturday, May 12, 2007


I wish not to go to work today and make Frappucinos. I wish to go to the ocean and look out and down.

At night the Charles is eerily black and shimmering. It makes me think of the Liffey in Dublin. The blackness, the motion, the reflection of the nighttime city lights and the low buildings of an old city. A reflective liquid void.

Last night I took my brother to Harvard Square. We saw the Ivy Leaguers in their sunglasses, their H sweatshirts. They are tools, but I ate Pinnochio's Pizza. Mmm.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Yellow Phlegm

My antibiotics have kicked in and I'm getting better. Now I hack yellow phlegm and sound like a mtf tranny when I speak. I'm working it.

John's still here and he has a stomach flu. I have five hours to read everyone's pieces for my writing group tonight. The yellow phlegm is coming and coming.

I need to do another round of sending shit out to publications, but it's so exhausting. Maybe when the yellow phlegm leaves, or when my ex-boyfriend moves out, or when this whole balcony situation resolves itself one way or another.

It should probably be now, though. There will always be something. And time moves.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

The Brother from Another State

My brother is visiting. This is good.

Both he and I are sick. This is less good.

But he makes things manageable. I am calmer. I think everything is going to be okay.

Monday, May 7, 2007

The Street

I say i want i want i want, and he says, circumstance. On the street, I lean against the stone ledge marking someone's front yard. All of our arms are crossed over each of our respective torsos.

It's okay, I say. If this doesn't come out the way I'd like, I'll just channel it into art.

And I am. And I will.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

Published Story Online

By the way, everyone should comment on my story in BostonNOW. Please... :)


Weeks of two hours of sleep a night, eating like shit, whiskey, and cigarettes has finally caught up with me. I am sick.

I'm utilizing my raspy voice to play eight minute long Bob Dylan songs with no chorus and no bridge loudly out my window. My muscles ache, but at least I got a good night's sleep last night.

Just when I thought I'd used up all the great plots in my life, then came a Boston balcony.

Friday, May 4, 2007

Published Story

Hey all. A short story of mine is being serialized in the free daily, BostonNOW. You can pick it up at most any street corner. I believe it is also going to be archived online as well.

I have been getting little sleep and fretting too much, but I am alive moreso than I've been in months. Maybe years.