Night Sweats

Ignoring blue white light of moon
in favor of artificial sense of security
reflective signs and street lamps.
A train siren wails,
melancholy,
down through.
Close to the earth.
Hug the earth so gravity will protect us.
Our greatest fear is Wyoming.

confession

I date the worst kind of men. The cowardly, cheating, uncaring, self centered, perverted fools that sweep me off my feet. I swoon at their inattention. I drip for their filth. They are unavailable, don't want me, soulless devils and I love them.

midnight text

it's thrilling to receive erotic text messages at 3 in the morning. Almost like a drug. I fall under the spell of one text, then the next until I almost drown from lack of sleep and anticipation. Oh, distance is a mean illusion.

The eight one seven

It haunts me you know. I'm not sure why. I arrive at work, daily, unwittingly, at 8:17. I happen to glance at the clock, in between gulps of Salty Dog as I'm talking my brother through crisis and it's 2017. It's in phone numbers, zip and area codes. It's there when I least expect it.

Very Superstitious

Since my first crush in what must have been 1st or 2nd grade when I wrote grocery bags full of rejected love letters to Jerad Renz, I've been superstitious of love. Inevitably, the men that I am enamored with are not enamored with me. It can happen as quickly as minute to minute - love, then hate. If I love them, it definitely means they don't love me; but if, the next day, I happen to wake up out of love with them, you can bet they'll call, myspace, tell a friend to tell a friend to tell me that they heart me.
I've tried to trick myself. I've pretended that I don't love someone in the hopes that this might trick fate or karma, or whatever it is that life is made up of, but it never works. The truth in my heart always shines through.
Recently, I talked to my therapist about this. I told him about Crush, about how I must have loved him not loving me - that if he felt any other way I probably wouldn't have been that interested. I told him about Chad, about how after he stood me up I wanted him more.
What I haven't told him is how I can't imagine love out of the context of sex. I just can't wrap my mind around the difference between a friendship and a relationship if it isn't sex. Both are a dedication to another person, and, in my experience, an almost exclusive dedication. Both involve supporting the other person's goals, dreams, and success. Both require that the other person's friends are your friends. Both require common interests and similar personalities. So what makes a friend different from a boyfriend if it isn't sex? Nothing. A relationship is a friendship with sex which may, but not necessarily include, marriage.

Later

A wish from Ana to me while stoned on acid, 1 June, 1995

Trish, you've asked to write in Journal about this wonderful truth I've just found out. I will try to tell you many truths I know, I'll number them. Some might hurt you. Some might make you cry, not with your usual sad tears, but tears will make your entire body fry with absolute tears that taste just like this tea. Truths go like this:
1. you are not in any trouble with the devil. Something else is haunting you. Believe me, Trish. I can see your soul as of now, and it's so amazing to say that it is the most beautiful soul in the universe that's ever seen by me. It's not purple. I really expected it to be purple, but Trish, it's silvery-gold not silver and gold, but silvery-gold. Like a Rainbow star, every color together makes silvery-gold. It has no shape. Actually, I can't even actually see with my eyes. I can just feel it, and I know everything to know about it, not just the outside of it, just the beautiful middle inside, like it's straight to the heart. Now the silvery-gold has a rose tint. Trish, if you could feel the beauty of your soul, you'd cry. You'd cry because you'd stop thinking nasty thoughts about yourself, you'd just see the fact that you are beautiful and all of your ugly thoughts will just melt away like a rainbow slips away. The reason you are crying is because you are afraid that without these nasty soul-messiers you will be truly happy. Change is always scary, Trish, but see yourself with this new light and then the beauty in you can truly shine though. I forgot to tell you, bit I see the black mark on you r soul. You and I see the same soul, but out of different eyeshadow. The ugliness in your soul is my black mark. Actually, he's not all black, he's fading into a dark brown. This is because I can see you are starting to believe in yourself and since you and I are Bod you are believing stronger in god. This is why your spot is lightening. This brings me to what I told you in the Kitchen. It's about lying to your soul. All of your sad thoughts and fears are lies. This is why your ugliness is fighting with the beauty. Hopefully, your beauty can win sometime. I hope this helps you understand that fear of a bad trip is what will cause a bad trip. You have to have your mind ready to accept your true self or the Evil men that are trying to get you will win and you'll have a bad trip. So sweetheart, you have to clear the inside of your head and you can have a fantastic trip. Purple, Blue, green, Ev everything. If not it will scare you. Now, don't be afraid. Keep reading witch. Read about Archie Fiesta. Then it might make you understand what I'm saying better, clearer. Anyway, I have more to say but y'r begging for your book so I''l let you have it back (heart) and (peace) for ever. Ask ME anything today. This is the wise pot and I'm omniscient right now. I (heart) you.


Corrine, Lexy, all those uglies, all of them are messengers of your soul. That girl was a messenger of your soul too. It shows the spot lighting up. Get it:?

Listen, Dixie

from a journal entry, 5/12/99 - The Oregon Days
In dreams, I walk out to my car and find $100 bills taped to it - all over - hundreds of them. I go into a Wendy's and some woman tells me my hair is beautiful and smells it. I walk around the salad bar and find a rave. Instead of darkness and deep bass there is incredible light-ness and music like tiny bells. I didn't like the people there so I kicked and punched a bunch of them on my way out.
A woman walked into my room. She was Hispanic and I loved her. She was of the voodoo and she told me about my eyes and their depth. Hers weren't so bad either. She told me great things are going to happen to me.
Checks were written out to me for thousands of dollars and signed by the U.S. Army.

Photography

Go see Chuck McGrath at Alden's Images: aldensimages@cox.net or 619.300.9968