Friday, October 26, 2007

Where loneliness and loveliness feel linked

Back to the sinus trouble, I mean it's been there all along I've just been trying not to give in. But why so much trouble after an acupuncture allergy clearing for smoke, yes awful smoke the acupuncturist says sometimes the clearing triggers the symptoms. All this hot weather means no air I mean no fresh air everything aching, this started before. By the time I arrive at the acupuncture office, it’s like my food isn't digestible I can't sit without hurting, allergies clogging my face. Afterwards, I'm thinking about exhaustion and desire, desire and exhaustion, but then I get too tired and I can't think anymore, still thinking with my eyes closed just to see what happens if I breathe -- in means my eyes go up out means my eyes go up -- fast like they're frightened -- is that the way it's supposed to be? I'm searching for some kind of message, my feet on the floor hands in lap jaw untangling tingling the fan on the computer starts to blow -- even the computer’s too hot although I don't know why I say even -- the computer is a machine, it runs on electricity. I'm trying to stay still just to find out what will happen but then my lower back starts to ache into stomach, neck clenching up.

Oh, no -- more gunshots -- almost every night now, I mean I didn't used to hear any gunshots in the Tenderloin. I've always felt that the biggest danger was from cars, speeding suburbanites and drunks heading home -- in my old apartment I heard an accident at least once a week, twice I looked out and someone was lying dead in the street. Just when I moved into this apartment, there was an altar on the street for a four-year-old who’d gotten run over. So cars scare me -- but I don't hear them so much from this apartment, now it's gunshots and tonight there’s screaming and running crashing into metal then sirens. I've already taken my contacts off, so I'm paranoid a gunshot will pierce my seventh floor window -- things like that happen when you can't see, although mostly I just feel awful and sad.

When I wake up, I mean I’m experimenting with this not-waking-up feeling -- if I just keep my eyelids slightly closed can I pretend I'm still dreaming? Sometimes my body is a record of everything that's not supposed to be traumatic, like right away today there's such an intense burning starting beneath my wrists and going up to my elbows. Why now, except for the way my wrists rested on soft but not soft enough pillows on the acupuncture table, pillows there just so my wrists could relax instead I get this burning.

Today I'm not hopeful for the possibilities of desire. I need some ideas beyond bars, backrooms, Jeremy, the Nob Hill Theatre, the phone sex line, fantasies that I’ll meet someone on the street. But also there’s my body and the way the sun makes me squint into exhaustion until even the fresh air is too much. I'm somewhere between everything and nothing, a place that could mean more but instead it means less. But then I'm sitting on Divis and Geary and it's something about the way the air hits me so cool and moist I'm flooded with memories of when I first came here, this is the air of Haight Street that time when I was sitting on the sidewalk writing in my journal and Sam walked up, I think he thought I was a Haight Street kid I mean there I was sitting on the sidewalk in all my dyed-hair glory, telling him how crystal made me so sad I didn't want to do crystal. He invited me home, I can't remember if this was the first time we’d had sex or if it had already happened -- he wanted to fuck me, I wanted to get it over with, he said I don't have to fuck you it's not something I have to do, I said no, I want you to fuck me -- he didn't know it was the first time I would never have told him I was embarrassed I was already 19. The room got so hot it was like I was burning up I got hotter and hotter, his dick slipped out he said oh there's blood. I said it's been a while then he showed me different literary magazines, I liked the way his face got all red.

I didn't grow up in San Francisco, but I grew up in San Francisco -- that's what I'm remembering. The fall air clearing my lungs where loneliness and loveliness feel linked, but not in that desperate trapped forever sort of way, just like it's okay to feel overwhelmed or uninspired this will all pass. I'm thinking about the things I like in San Francisco that I don't do. The beach -- I love the beach, but I never go because I worry about getting stuck waiting for the bus with all the cold moisture aggravating my pain. No one else likes to go to the beach at night. Buena Vista Park -- looking up through the trees at the sky lit by the city -- I don't go there because the walk destroys my body, I always get too hypoglycemic and then I get frantic that I've ruined my life. The sea lions at Pier 39 -- I love the sea lions, but then I get stuck in tourist hell. Late-night walks when I can study the way light makes the buildings float, the way I'm floating too -- except then my body hurts too much. I would love answers, but there are no answers right now.

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