Thursday, January 15, 2009

Somewhere I would never go

Part of me wishes I could always stay here, where the trees are spaceships leaning into the stars I look up and the moon is a spotlight really a spotlight and I can rest. I mean I could rest, if I didn’t have to get back down the hill this probably straight guy sucking my cock is camping here but that wouldn’t help with the rest I don’t see the stars when he says Jerry Garcia built Golden Gate Park he’s the one who made it a safe place. Not this park anyway. He’s wearing two pairs of pants, I’m not sure if that’s to keep him pure or to keep something hidden, maybe the pot he’s selling but what’s the difference between purity and hiding anyway? But I see the stars before, and then after, not usually so many stars because of the fog oh I also like the fog and I actually figure out a way to walk down the hill that isn’t so steep I really hope my body doesn’t hurt as much as usual until it does, but then I get in bed quickly and in the morning I’m back to the overwhelm of my limitations: I want to go to the Oscar Grant protest but I don’t know if I have enough energy, by the time I get to Oakland I might already be too exhausted to function and anyway I can’t go unless someone comes with me because I need someone to carry my bag, food and water, but I didn’t ask anyone ahead of time because I didn’t know if I would have enough energy. I still don’t know. I call Randy anyway, just in case he’s heading home because home is right by the BART headquarters which is where the protest is going. I think I need more friends who are actively engaged with their disabilities so that I don’t feel so lost in my own world of pain, that’s what I’m thinking before I’m eating the rice which makes me nauseous, and then putting on hair gel which maybe dries my eyes out.

The good news is that my hair looks great, I like this new style it’s a style I didn’t think would look good on me but it does, except when I look in the mirror at Goodwill and my hair looks kind of frizzy, maybe the lighting or maybe more gel I might be allergic to. The other good news is that I’m wearing the plaid pants I haven’t worn in so long because I didn’t bring them on my tour, some days they’re uncomfortable and tight another way I don’t have control of my body but today they fit just right and as I’m walking outside I think this would be a good time to run into Derek, if I’m going to run into Derek, even though I probably wouldn’t run into him around here.

Yes I want to go back to that place where the trees are spaceships, leaning into the stars, spaceships because of the way the wind has formed them but then also the way their branches are trimmed and then the hill ends at the top without foliage and that’s where I’m eating the little bit of food I could squeeze into a container in my pocket, no the hip sack didn’t work but this jacket fits a tiny bottle of water and a tiny container of food and that helps. At first there are only two guys smoking crack, one guy smoking a cigarette while leaning against a tree, and another guy bending down to expose his naked ass, saying hi! Hi! Really the best part about Buena Vista is the air and the angles between trees and city and sky, anyway – I’m almost relieved there’s nothing to distract me until this guy brings me down then uphill to his campsite and hunger and he does offer me water twice, why do I worry that there’s something in the water I only pretend to drink it.

Anyway I’d rather stay there with the moon and spaceships, not here, leaning against my kitchen table with my heart beating fast and then I have to shit again. Okay I’m going to call him, call him when I know he’s home 8 pm he’s always around and it’s that place between chest and neck which gets so tense it’s not just breathing it’s the way everything becomes suffocation and then it’s his voicemail again. Hi darling – oh, there’s a lot of static on my phone. Anyway, I’m kind of getting the idea that you don’t want to talk to me, I guess I would wonder why you wouldn’t tell me that. I guess there’s a slight chance that you’re at vipassana, but that’s probably not that likely. So I’d like it if you would call me. Hope you’re doing well. Love you.

This message is harder to transcribe, because of all the spaces where I’m not saying anything or where my voice goes from jumbled and tense to bigger and more relaxed, but also because I forgot to record it, I mean I listen to it again before I click send and I notice I say I would wonder instead of I’m wondering and I think about transcribing it then but then I wait. Afterwards, I do feel better – maybe I need to call Derek more often, just so I’ll feel better. I’m telling Grant all these ideas for things I might and might not want to do, like writing Derek all these letters that somehow look like what I want to say, since Derek might not read them, and maybe adding directions on the outside: burn this one. Recycle this one. Tear this one to shreds. I can’t figure out how many letters would be best – maybe 16 for 16 years, but somehow that doesn’t sound like enough.

Derek hasn’t told me that he doesn’t want to talk to me, and yes it would be better if he at least said something but even then I’m not sure I would respect his wish because I don’t feel like he’s respecting me. On any level at all. I mean, I wouldn’t try to talk to him but I would need some way to express myself so that I wouldn’t just collapse internally which means externally too and the irony of all of this is that it all started because I wanted to tell Derek that I still felt resentful for that five year period where he was an alcoholic disaster who lied about everything and of course he could’ve said that makes a lot of sense, thank you for telling me that I want to find a way for you to feel more secure in our relationship and maybe I even believed he would say that but instead he got enraged and now I have even less of an opportunity to express my anger.

More ideas: I could show up somewhere where I know Derek will be, somewhere I would never go and Derek would know that but no one else would notice. I would get all dressed up in something dramatic, and then just walk by. Probably that would be too exhausting, but I’m trying to figure out ways not to feel silenced, it doesn’t seem like Derek is going to listen to me but I still want to feel like I’m speaking. Even if I’m speaking in ways that are somehow symbolic or without words, I want to think of ways that I can represent our relationship and what it’s come to. What it means to me. What it has meant to me.

I used to think of throwing an anniversary party, 10 years especially, and then 15 sounded fun too, or sweet 16, but then I started to think about what that would mean and it sounded too exhausting and I’m not sure if I even mentioned it to Derek. We should’ve celebrated in some way, I’m not sure that we ever celebrated.

4 comments:

chamblee54 said...

All of us are in the gutter, but some are looking at stars.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Oh that's beautiful -- thank you, chamblee!

Love --
mattilda

Hilary Goldberg said...

"Part of me wishes I could always stay here, where the trees are spaceships leaning into the stars I look up and the moon is a spotlight really a spotlight and I can rest."

Part of you is there & now me too...and whoever else was lucky enough to read this post too, all of us -- is it whoever or whomever? i never know...

xhil

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Hilary, yay let's say there -- parts of us, whomever and whoever...

Love--
mattilda