Peer Pressure

Another assignment--the last one actually--from my intermediate poetry class. It's a sestina so there's a pattern of repeating end-words. And POOF. I'm mostly posting this because my friend Eve was there while I was working on it and wanted to see the "finished" product. Don't read into it too heavily! Haha.

When entering my veins it sets me free

from worry and embarrassment, save

the kind that follows alcohol. Only

those never bother me, and my friends

need reminding now and then. Alcohol

will be your greatest friend till dawn--

No, I'll keep the parting going, even dawn

can’t stop me when I'm rolling free

of inhibitions thanks to my pal, Alcohol.

Although the bar is not the place to save

your money, if you’re cunning you can ask a friend

to buy a drink or two. Tell them only

one if it helps. Or find a stranger, only

for a few if needed. Don’t forget to ditch at dawn

unless you want to end up “more than friends.”

For now, stick around and drink for free.

With the right plan for the night you’ll save

your cash. Reserve it for more alcohol.

I think of my first taste of alcohol--

I was just thirteen, but it was only

for the Seder. I learned to save

my appetite. That day starts not at dawn

but sundown. Those stories show us how to free

each other, remind us not to leave any friend

behind. I still won’t forsake a friend

even when we’re in the throes of alcohol.

Who would’ve thought a liquid could free

you from concern and constraints, though only

temporarily? At least before dawn

arrives and contrives to save

you from yourself. I'm trying to save

everyone now. Acquaintance or friend

I'll stay or walk away at dawn

as needed. Especially when I and alcohol

socialize--we want to save the world. Only

it’s too far gone. It already thinks it’s free.

In this strange yet familiar dawn, sobriety arises to save

us, always, from being free. I say my goodbyes to friends

and my farewell, for now, to alcohol. The morning-after full of if only.

Brainstorming/freewriting...cancer and curiosity

This is sort of brainstorming for an essay I'm working on...it began with my recent research into "rcc" that was motivated by writing a terrible essay for a class I really enjoy. I am working on ideas for the revision and began looking it up...it spawned a few epiphanies, not all of which are mentioned here, but this is my trying to tie in enough ideas to possibly weave into another narrative along with the patterns of time of year. Cancer and curiosity was only how this began...I was surprised to tie in so many ideas into one free-written piece...it will of course change while being intertwined with other things by the time it's finished, but it's progress! (Progress in work as well as emotions.)


***

I tend to think of myself as a naturally curious person. It doesn't take long from the moment I hear of a new idea or word to the moment I type it in a search bar or grab a dictionary. Yet it took me over five years to type the words "renal cell carcinoma" into any sort of search engine. Those words are listed on my dad's death certificate that was hanging on the back door of what we call "The Old Studio." Listed as "cause of death," I carefully memorized the words five years ago so I would know how to talk about it with people when they asked "but what kind of cancer?" as a follow-up to the usual inquiry about his passing. I wanted to know after the fact, but I didn't even know what it was called for most of the 10 months we were watching it maul my father's body and wrack our family's support system in ways we would never have imagined.

I knew it was kidney cancer, I knew it had metastisized in his brain, but not once did I look it up to see what was happening to his kidneys, to his blood and brain. I didn't know that from the time they diagnosed him with a brain tumor from the kidney cancer he only had a 5% chance of living through the next year. I didn't know that until I was 21. He died when I was barely 16.

He left in the summertime, right as the feverish August arrived when Moscow usually reached temperatures in the 100s. We had never been in town for that particular time of year as a family, taking our vacation to the Oregon Coast for the last week of July, first week of August, trying to bring the clouds and rain back with us from the beautiful, blustery never-above-80-degrees coast. When he died I was in California visiting my half-brothers and friend of my grandparents. They lived near San Francisco, and we happened to be crossing the Golden Gate Bridge when my mom called with the news. They were 7 and nearly 5 years old at the time, and could hardly understand what was happening, but their words of solace meant more to me than anyone else's could at that time.

I tried desperately to see him in my dreams that night, or to imagine how I might change my flight home to go to the cremation with my mom and sister. I wasn't able to, and in the long run it was probably better to be there for my little brother's 5th birthday instead, but I still wish I had seen him. I wish I had seen his body somehow so I wouldn't have spent months hearing him coming around the corner, or with my heart pounding when I heard loud steps on the stairs or someone solidly shutting the front door. Years later I can still hear him, although briefly, in the next aisle at the grocery store, or in the voice of a friend's parent, before I realize it is someone else's father, or brother, or partner.

Soon after that day on the bridge I began dreaming of his return. In the dream his arrival was subtle to everyone but me, and I would rush into his arms and whoop and hollar and happy tears would run down my face into his big belly....the dreams used to end there. After some months we started having time to make plans, and a few years later I almost had enough time to ask him questions like "Are you proud of me?" and "When did you take your first photograph?"....but I still don't know the answer.
Sometimes I can go for months without a dream of him, and then a wave breaks over my nights and at least once a week we'll see each other, but always the restlessness of my disbelief at seeing him again wakes me up too soon. Waking rips me out of his big-kahuna arms into a cluttered, dark room, with me under the Disney comforter he bought when I was 12. (It is still the most comfortable one I own.) His impossibly red, bushy, curvy eyebrows slowly fade away in the relief of orange streetlights peeking through my blinds.

Then time goes on, I talk about the dreams and his death, write a poem or two. I move on...for the most part. Moving on from losing a family member like that really means you move forward, you continue living, but you never leave behind those feelings, those days spent worrying about, realizing, and accepting something like renal cell carcinoma moving in and tearing apart your life, among many others, so quickly and thoroughly.

I hope this keeps happening!

Apparently it's the month where my friends post on my wall whenever they see neat typewriter things. Even friends that I don't speak with very often! Hooray! Gotta love 'em.

This is definitely not a new thing, but I'd never seen something like it! Typewriter Art!

Not for me, perhaps, but a very cool way to put typewriters to use. I'll have to acquire some for my walls, it would go nicely with the multi-colored everything I own. Some B&W. Yes.

Time for some trig review and learning derivatives of trig functions! Yay!

-Satchmo

P.s. About calc homework, I am not being sarcastic. It's great to be getting into math that isn't completely review for the first time since high school.

Hey, you there, with the eyes...

You with the green-blue ocean eyes and dark curls peeking out of your baseball cap.
I'm feeling sappy today, and you're the subject of my thoughts for a moment.
The first time we met our words worked over and through each other for the evening,
I will never forget the way you tell stories with your eyes wide open,
and how much you love your dogs, and how you had to leave them home when you came here.

You with the pure brown eyes and coarse black hair:
I still want to go to Maine with you. Maybe my feelings for you are stuck deeper in my heart than is necessary,
or appropriate, but I still want to adventure with you, and regularly do in my dreams.
We went sailing and caught some fish with no small effort.
We cooked over a fire on the beach, ate mushrooms and laughed the stars into being.

You with the sometimes blue, sometimes green, sometimes grey eyes,
I am sometimes not as honest with you as I should be.
Sometimes you get on my nerves, but you are the one who's always with me.
I want to be alone more often than I am comfortable admitting, and I know
part of that feeling is because I'm scared.
I love you too, but we both know the end will be different for us. I want you to feel loved by more than me,
You need things I don't think I will ever be able to give,
and you will find them, hopefully soon. Never forget you are amazing.

USB Typewriter? For REAL? Yes Please!

Anyone want to give me 74 dollars? I could really use this DIY USB Typewriter Kit. Okay, to be honest, I am not capable of putting that together myself, but with $700-$900 I could have one of these!

When my roommate posted this on my wall, I thought it was a joke. But seriously? I could write on a typewriter and not have to re-type my writing to edit papers for school? FANTASTIC!

In other news, I have been blog-absent for a long few months. Being busy with school, family, holidays, and re-starting classes a couple weeks ago has been good and crazy. I got straight A's last semester. I haven't done that since 5th grade!

I still don't have internet at my apartment.

My room is so much like a Picasso painting that I haven't dug my typewriters out for a couple months, despite finding an Olympia SM9 at the Storm Cellar and being ecstatic for a few days. I wrote a few letters and then lost them.

Real updates coming in a couple weeks (I would say a few days, but let's be real here), and letters hopefully going into the mail sooner that that.

First I have to finish writing the key events of "My Life Journey" in 750 words before class. The main problem is keeping it down to 750 words.

Oy.


p.s. My roommate also posted these stickers on my wall. Seriously considering them! I'd have to get the "p" key on my (new) laptop fixed first though.