words, words, words
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If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
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Wednesday, September 17, 2003
I received an invitaton recently, from my high school's football booster club, to attend a ten year reunion next month. A week earlier, I dreamed of being in football practice and flirting with some male stranger in front of the coach, not caring about what he thought. for the first time, my subconscious was not afraid of this man, who has always haunted, frightened, and angered me more than any other person. the two events together have made me consider actually attending the reunion, especially if i am in town for my mother's surgery. but, every time i see myself walking to the stadium, or sitting in the stands watching the game, or talking to my old teammates, i get nervous and frightened, just like i used to get before practices and games, dreading every minute spent. my feelings about football are too complex to explain here; i have spent ten years ignoring and then trying to face my fears from the five years i spent playing, from the lies my father told me to get me to play, from the way that i berated myself for not liking a sport that was contradictory to every part of my personality but so normal as to seem necessary for every able young oklahoman boy.
To go back, is it revisiting and reopening old wounds, or is it an attempt to heal myself? these wounds have played me for a fool. i thought that harboring them would give me power over my father some day, that i could throw them back in his face so he finally knew how much he had hurt me. but instead, i haven't gotten over how much he hurt me and know i can never explain to him the consequences of his actions, how much i tried to please him, how much i hurt myself in the process. so in trying to let go of this angst, do i keep to the situations that give me peace, or do i walk back in the scene of my torture? how much strength do i have? can i be the person i am every day, when i am back there, with all the memories swimming around me? there's so much to think about. i might just make a decision and deal with it, not stress over whether to do it or not but how, and if not, how else do i overcome my fear?
4:18 PM
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