Monday, February 10, 2014

she doesn't return my text.

she doesn't return my text. i'm not surprised. or upset. maybe i'm relieved, i think i'm relieved. (and she's not the only either, no one has this week).

___Therapist: do you think there's a problem?
___Q: ___no. there's no sign of a problem.
___Th: __really?
___Q: ___yah really.
___Th: __you know what the thing is? the thing is you never see it.
___Q: ___...
___Th: __what tends to happen is, you wake up, and you're 50, and your family has left you, and your friends hate you, and there's no one around and you're all alone. and you're great at your job and it suddenly occurs to you that you don't care. and that's all you've got. and now there's no time to do anything about it. it's too late. that's the problem.
___Q: ___is that what you're seeing?
___Th: __yes. ______do you sense it?
___Q: __  can i tell you a secret?
___Th: __sure.
___Q: ___it's worse than that. ___... i already know it's happened. it's just time before i screw it up beyond repair
___Th: __...

no one all week. (but wait, i'll get back to that in a second:

**___ in the evenings, when i walk home, i've been staring at people. i can't stop staring at them. the beautiful girls and the pudgy boys. and the teenagers with the ridiculous hair. and i think, it's a river, it's a thought that just moves from person to person as i walk: who loves you? and you - who loves you? is it him? it is? do you feel like she does? can i sense it? - if i stare at you. i hope somebody does, you deserve that. (maybe even... _)
___[ Q: ___no.
____H: ___ what do you mean?
___  Q: ___ it's this horrible feeling i get after sex.
___  H: ___ ...
___  Q: ___ like, i look at her. and all i can think is: someone should love you. leave this. leave here. find someone who does.
___  H: ___ ...
___  Q: ___ and, f&ck, i can't believe i'm about to say this___,
___  H: ___ ...
___  Q: ___ and. i'm thinking it to myself too. y'know? i'm telling myself the same damn thing. who is this? where'd she come from? why are you here q? just... anyway, ___.
___  H: ___ oh q. [as she puts her head on my shoulder and my arm around her] whatarewegonnado?

and all these beautiful ___in the evenings ___coming out of the gym , is it for somebody? is it for you? will she notice? is it still the same?

- why didn't they text you back?
- i wouldn't text me back.
- ?
- dude, how can anyone put up with me? i'm here one minute, then i disappear for weeks without a word. then all of a sudden i'm back. who can keep up.
- well. you're doing your stuff, you're handling your busi-
- no. nono. no. i'm just a prick. admit it. i can. i can admit it. i'm just a self-centred prick. i'm not there for anybody. i can't be. i just descend into myself, into all the things that terrify me. and i fight with them, and when i come back... there's not usually anyone around. and that's okay.
- ...
- it is.


it is okay. it is okay. it is okay.

i amuse myself. two weeks ago, on a wednesday night. i stumbled to my couch, hand trembling. taking big, voluminous breaths. who does this? i thought to myself. who gets drunk on a wednesday drinking straight whiskey and then sits down and reads Harold Bloom's introductory essay to the Complete Poems of Hart Crane.  (which i have read four times. and never the poems themselves. Hart Crane is hard. but the essay makes me happy. i love reading people write about things they love, things they believe in. Harold Bloom loves, believes in Hart Crane. it makes me happy, the sincerity of it. so i read it. from time to time).
___(my roomate comes in a week later. i have my football tucked under my arm - it comforts me somehow - and i'm holding the whiskey, and struggling to hold Bleak House open above my head, but it's too heavy and keeps falling on me. jesus dude. )

** the Seattle Seahawks, their pre-game psyche-up mantra is
we all we got / we all we need.
i don't believe that.
______at least,
____________not the second part. ***


when i was 16, i remember my mom asking me if i was alright. and i said i was. and i felt like i was. very alright. completely alright. i felt perfectly alright. and she said oh baby. we won't know yet. we won't know for a long while yet. one day, we'll know what i've done to you.


please help me words. please help me. you used to. you used to be all i had. i believed in you. everything i couldn't say in any other way you were there for. what's happened to us? why is it so hard to say what i mean now? why do i not mean anything? maybe that's the problem. maybe it's that i've stopped meaning anything.


she asks me if questions can run on. oh girl. you don't even know. there are no answers, the questions just run. on. across. around. on and on. not an answer in sight. it's just a field of questions. like rabbits and landmines.


it bothers me when i dream of you
i hate that you're there ,
we don't even speak, it's very civil
you just... you do your thing.


one day i'll find a way to


____________d a___y