All Will Be Well

I had an awful dream last night.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t a nightmare–I could have mined it for story ideas.  No, this bad dream was about something that actually happened.

Awhile ago, the only girl I’ve ever been in love with asked me to go away with her.  She was going to grad school on the east coast.  That whole last year together,  she’d been dropping unsubtle offers for me to go with her.  To her credit, she made the whole thing lighthearted.  It would be awesome if you came with me.  As if she was suggesting we get an ice cream sundae after dinner.

The incident in my dream transpired during one of our goofy–but absolutely perfect–conversations, this time about Method Man’s Release Yo Delf (she thought the song said “bitches by homicide!” which makes no sense.  The actual line is “being chased by homicide”).  And for the first time she pushed the issue.  She really wanted me to come with her.  She thought I could do well back east.  I could further my education.  Find a better job.  And I could still work on my art.

I stood my ground.

I was going to San Diego.  My favorite studio was there.  My utterly stupid notion of an ideal life was there.  Besides, I couldn’t leave California and my friends and my family and my life.

Of course it was none of those reasons at all that kept me from going with her.  I didn’t go because I was an idiot.  I was chickenshit.  I took for granted how much I loved her.  So I let the best thing that ever happened to me walk right out of my life.  And now, my subconscious mind was rooting through that misery for reasons only Providence could possibly know (Damn to hell  whatever it was that connected those dots, by the way).

I didn’t realize how serious she was about the move until she stopped trying to convince me.  She had this exasperated look on her face.  That’s the image that’s been stuck in my brain since I woke up.  God, how could I have been so stupid?

We officially broke up about two weeks later.  But the die had already been cast; from that day on, our relationship was palpably different.  She was starting the process of letting go.

It seems that was about the time when my life kind of got…stuck.  As far as relationships, I took my hat out of the ring.  At first because of heartbreak.  Then because it became comfortable to not take the risk.  I mean, sure, I dabbled.  But I’m an odd cookie.  I’m black, but the world I live in is not. I know it doesn’t sound like a thing.  Maybe it wasn’t.  But in my head it was. I mean, Caucasian, Hispanic, Asian…cleaned up they sort of jibe.  But then there’s this 6-foot-4 black dude lumbering around in the mix; I would sometimes feel…out of place.  Of course, neither of my brothers has a problem with that, so it probably was me.  Still, I was living in a new city; I didn’t know a lot of people.  And hitting on women cold has never been my forte.  (I got laughed at once.  Laughed at. Let that stew in your noodle a bit.)  So i didn’t really go out all that much.  I’ve never been the rock out with your cock out type.  Unless we’re talking pancakes, I typically favor quality over quantity, particularly with interpersonal relationships.  And I’m not a toad, but unless it’s the DMV, I’m rarely the best looking guy in the room.  I’ve never really made a lot of money, had particularly cool jobs, nice cars, or “dripped swag.”

To top it off, I’ve been raised almost exclusively by women, so I have a great deal of respect for women, which means I’m a nice guy, which I have learned–the hard way–is poison to the romantic interest of the vast majority of women.  I’m talking forever friendzoned.

While we’re running the litany, I’m prone to bouts of depression.  They don’t necessarily manifest as sadness so much as withdrawal from social interaction. Sometimes months go by when I feel wholly disinterested in doing anything.  Oh, and I have a potentially fatal heart condition.  I don’t smoke, don’t drink, and I have never taken an illicit drug in my life.  But I do love junk food.  I wouldn’t say it’s killed me, but it definitely has it’s hooks in.  If I was betting on which way I’m gonna go, I’m putting the house on the ticker.

Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t think I’ve had a bad life or anything.  I don’t seek pity (before now).  I’m not waiting for death.  In fact, I find that entire mindset absurd and counterproductive.

I have plenty of amazing people in my life who love me and care about my well being.  I’ve typically been well liked and well respected by most of the people with whom I’ve interacted.  My passions are writing and drawing and I do one or the other pretty much every day.  And I have had relationships…just fewer than I would like (I’m probably with the majority in that regard).  I’ve even been in love.  Requited love.  I fully expect the day will come when I earn my entire living with my art.  I don’t believe in soul mates or anything but I know there are people out there with whom I’m compatible.  I just have to get re-acclimated with putting myself out there. A la George Costanza, I’m like a commercial jingle (do they have those anymore?); initially I may go unnoticed, I might even be annoying, but you’ll be humming my tune by the end of the day.

I’m perpetually optimistic.  I mean, it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.  You’re stuck with what you’ve got.  You can spend your time getting worked up about your circumstances or you can try to make things better.  Tomorrow’s coming either way.  It’s like that quote that says something along the lines of, optimists are realist; they know how bad a place the world can be.  It’s pessimists who keep relearning it every day…or something to that effect.  Personally, I think optimism, when applied, looks a lot like determination; and as an ideal, it’s the next best thing to happiness.

Anyway, my point, at the beginning of all this, was about my dream about this girl I loved and how my life would have been profoundly different if I would have just gone away with her.  Would it have been better?  Possibly.  Okay, probably.  But perfect?  Obviously not.

I was just haunted by the vividness of that look on her face.  It dredged up every bad thing that’s happened in my life since.  I had to vent. But even as I thought about the bad stuff, I started thinking about the good.  That says something, right?


Free. Thought.

Mother to Daughter Talk by Sarah Kay

I was waiting until Mother’s Day to post this but I’m feeling it a little too much.  I’ll have to figure something else out.

Dang it.

P.S. Here are Sarah’s lyrics-for my fellow linguaphiles. 🙂

She is gonna call me point B
So no matter what happens
She can always find her way to me
And I’m going to paint the solar system
On the backs of her hands
So she has to learn the entire universe
Before she can say oh, I know that like the back of my hand
And shes gonna learn that this life will hit you
Hard in the face, wait for you to get back up
So it can kick you in the stomach but
Getting the wind knocked out of you
Is the only way to remind your lungs
How much they like the taste of air
There is hurt here that cannot be fixed by
Band-aids or poetry so the first time you realise
That Wonder Woman isn’t coming don’t feel like
You have to put the cape on all by yourself
Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers
Your hands will always be too small to
Catch all the pain you want to heal
Believe me, I’ve tried and baby I’ll tell her
Don’t keep your nose up in the air like that
I know that trick, I’ve done it a million times.
You’re just sniffing for smoke so you can
Follow the trail back to a burning house
So you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire
To see if you can nurse him back to health
Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place
To see if you can change him
But I know that you will anyway, so instead
I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby
Because there’s no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix
Okay there’s a few heartbreaks that chocolate can’t fix
But that’s what the rain boots are for because
Rain can wash away everything if you let it and
I want her to see the world through the underside
Of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the
Galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind because
That’s the way my mum taught me, that there’ll be days like this
There’ll be days like this my mama said, when you’ll
Open your hands to catch and wind up with only bruises and blisters
When you’ll step out of the phone booth and try to fly
And the very people you want to save are the ones
Standing on your cape. When your rain boots will fill with rain
And you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and
Those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you
Because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses
To stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times its sent away
You will put the win in win some lose some                                                                        You put the star in start over and over                                                                                       No matter how many land mines erupt                                                                                  Make sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life              And yes on a scale from one to over-trusting I’m pretty fucking naive                        But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar                                           It can crumble so easy                                                                                                                   But don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it                                            Baby I’ll tell her remember your mama was a worrier
and your papa was a warrior and you are the girl with
Big eyes and small hands who never stops asking for more
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and
Always apologise when you’ve done something wrong but
Don’t you ever apologise for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining
Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing when they
Finally hand you heartbreak, when they give you war and anger
When they slip hatred under your doorstep, when they offer you handouts
On street corners of cynicism and defeat you tell them
That they really need to meet your mother.

Irrational Belief

What God would just leave us in a world like this
And call it love?
The gates of heaven should open into oblivion
that under this firmament
–where the seconds saunter spitefully by–
full of dancing fools and lovers,
whose eyes fix on peace
and call it nothing
My bond is to my brother’s keep
‘Til I take his eye for my belt loop
(Just for the snivel in him)
I. Draw. My. Every. Breath.
to climb.
–To find–
My rainbow ends in her arms
her hearth
friendly faces, ocean-side vespers, humble feasts
What world could be as Divine as this
–where the years take wing upon swift gales–
That has no God?
Only selfish fools and lovers
whose eyes fix on nothing
And call it peace

I’m Dyin’ Here

It’s a funny thing not knowing when or where

only why.

Then again, it’s not that funny

dyin’ here.

Modern discomforts, to give it a name.

Just another box.

These products and processes

Just another pox.

And everything’s been said,

And there’s nothing I can do

And I don’t leave time for

breathing the air–or looking for love.

‘Cause everything is wrong.

It’s all that I hate.

It’s so unfair.

Yet things still grow,

And places I haven’t been, that I could go

while standing here aches and makes the ankles swell;

Just another cave.

So I recline and stare (like every other cog)

Just another grave.

Meanwhile, there’s life-lovin’ livin’ to get done!

…and I’m sitting here

by myself–missing it.

I’m tired of dyin’ here–so far from you

Just another day.

On this winding path, walls to rivers

Just another way.


My Raven Queen envelops me in a masking sheet of skin.

She plants my face with kisses wet from ephemeral sin.

The witching hour rises, she is bared before my eyes.

The oceans heave around us swirling blood into our lies.

She sets me free in soul and mind and no consequence succeeds,

save for acts by ungoverned flesh, nefarious indeed!

And all because of her slinking, skulking mode of work,

my flesh and bone hang lifeless as from tether to the oak.

My princess love will not release her prurient embrace,

An execrated soul, I wander lost in time and space.

Yet ever still, as I drift in everlasting sin,

My Raven Queen envelops me in a masking sheet of skin.

(Blood Rose image from: