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Memo

Low gravity
they lay for years. their bodies engorged with blood. because no one ever really expected what it was going to be like to live someplace new. with low gravity. now women had eggs which were attached to them like dialisis machines, which drew their blood and saved it up for years- growing giant stories high beings which were translucent globes of blood vessels, which spent their lives bleeding out. when the final shriveled end came the raisin people exhausted their supply and dried in a puff of dust.
i never really realized what a disconnection and beginning a birth was at the same time. or how painful but significant it was to raise a baby before the babies becamegiant translucent globes stories high. they lied around all blood vessels with palpable pumping blood sounds at once totally impervious to the mild weather but at the same totally vulernable in their stationary ways. then later the slow emergence from our weight into movement, so much more slowly. people seemed so much more thoughtful and less violent in the new mild world.
sitting at chairs wiping the leaks away like ladies with their periods was the middle stages of the new life. which brought on humility. our skin was a wet sponge and the reminders which were so easily supressed earlier by smoothing away were now imossible to hide based on size. still people were excited by having a new world, because it allowed up to continue to survive. governing was changed by the strength and size of people in different stages in their lives. who could tell a giant bloody baby how to live but a tiny shrivled raisin man. that’s right. raisin men.
- come on i’m sick of this story
- you are never patient with me
we were in his apartment in the city. i was lying in his bed with my feet against the wall. there were no curtains but the sun was dulled by the film on the windows. all the possibilities of science and reality, and how much fun it was to think of things outside of that realm. but he just thought it was stupid. i think the truth was that i was willing to put up with a lot on an intellectual or emotional level to satisfy a more particular kind of animal truth. there were these level of exisitence that happened simultaenous that i couldn’t quite explain, that answered the question, “how can you stand to be with that motherfucker” but whether or not i loved him was not questionable as i knew the amount of bullshit i was willing to put up with indicated that i had come to love him in whatever reality that was possible.
but now i was thirsty. and i wanted a drink from the bodega and he wanted to stop being engaged in my stupid thinking so we went for a walk. the hallway was scuffed and filthy the way the city hallways tended to be, and the locks were heavy and turned slowly in the grime of the years. we were everthing we set out to be. in our tube socks and disappointment. sleeping together for reasons outside of idealism. with some kind of mutated mutal respect and deep mutal resentment simultaneously. though he thought i was smarter he much more often turned out to be right, and better able. though he thought i was nasty it seemed much more often i was willing to give out my heart. and we never really liked the same things. only occasionally we liked the same things. but when he liked things they made me feel icky like the simplicty of the things that he liked gave way to a horrid world of insect eggs hatching inside your skin. i was trying very hard to think about things as possibly “good”.
in the city the store isles were crowded, dusty and pletiful. i only ever wanted soda, though he was willing to drink from the tap no matter the quality of the water, he had no issue with the way it tasted. we hadn’t been talking much on the walk feeling the tension of the abrupt ending and his gross criticism of my imaginiation. as we approched the nameless location, i said “just imagine if out there in the universe- when you think of things they come into being”
his tall thin arm reached up and hooked on to something strapped to the ceiling in the store for sale “i just wanna buy these and use them to smack you around” he scraped my cheek gently but firmly with the rubbery plastic of a cheap pair of children’s swim flippers. my face lightened with suprise at the idea that they were there in the store. i whispered into his ear “i want to chew on your ear, grinding it slowly and methodically like bamboo shoots in the mouth of a gorilla” taking a small bite at the lobe. firm but intense.
in the new world there were no gorillas or anything else. the landscape was dense but not lacking in moisture. insdie or out. vegetation flourished, and tended to be cushioning enough for our awkward, in all states bodies. but much like everything else the forms had less of a familiarty to the human form. the lightness of low gravity invented new freedoms and new problems.
back at the apartment i was drinking my soda. green glass jarritos toronja on the couch. and he had the bag that said “thank you” containing the swim flippers. the television was on but we weren’t listening. just lying around. because we both loved lying around. even if eventually all the inaction seemed to sour our moods. he took them out, tore at the wraper and wore them like mittens, play boxing at me, like being picked on by an older brother, with me ineffectually swatting at him. so here’s what i did next. here’s what i did. ducked under his hands and kissed him deeply and put my hand into his pants massaging him until he felt full in my hand.
- let me tell you what i want you to do.
my lips were warm on his skin
-what
he begged
- what
-i want you to wear one of those flippers on your cock
-um ok
-yeah that’s right
i opened up his pants and teased him a little making sure he was hard, and told him, “ok put your balls in here” then pulled the strap up so he could insert his erect penis.
-ok now what.
now go over to the table and pick up that bowl of pretzles
-what?
yeah go pick up that bowl of pretzles. i smacked his ass.
and he went and bent his knees and suddenly felt dumb.
and he looked at me and said so.
“this has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with humiliation”
exactly i replied.
exactly.

does anybody want an exercise partner? we’ll meet at 5 am for cigarettes. after sweating in our sheets and screaming in our sleep.
grave digging, wig wearing, freedom grab. free from fleas and flab, coquettish joy calls out from the cans of manufactured nutrition. tritons fighting trapped in the bodies wretched bison- procreation is our only mission.
exorcising away insecurities the size of the sick sea. our bodies will be smooth and eternal, like plastic in the ocean, all floating together on the searching current.

everyone was in the fountain with their pants pulled up around their knees. i looked at the guy who had first dived in with anger and held the hand of my companion
” what a bunch of shitheads”
“shhhhhh”
“what? I can’t believe people are all still like this. precious. precious precocious”
“i don’t think you mean to use that word”
“no me either but they sounded good together”

all i could hear was the fountain and legs splashing but no laughter. serious “fun”.

“where’s all the laughter”
“it kind of sounds beautiful the way it is”
yes quiet is beautiful. but things will be so quiet after i’m dead.
they jerked their hand away and ran into the fountain. started filling up their pockets with change.
they.

i yelled “I CAN’T BELIEVE PEOPLE ARE STILL LIKE THIS” after them.
“shhhhh!”everyone in the fountain responded

“what are these shitheads doing?” asked a woman walking by.
“i don’t know, i can’t believe people are still like this.”
she kept walking without turning around. and when she got far enough away- I threw a can at her head.

i looked up the weather for wednesday, as the observatory is supposed to be open again, but again, it is to be rainy on wednesday.

in other news, i thought of you briefly (perhaps this is unfortunate) when my sister called me earlier. he boyfriend is a man who is high functioning – but has down syndrome and they found his schizophrenic father dead in a pit at the side of the road. It was obvious to authorities he either accidentally fell in or jumped in- though Nathan insisted it might not have been an accident- as other bodies have been found in this pit. Something about your story about the couple you were caring for resonated with me. Although my sister is not developmentally disabled, she does have an unfortunate insistence and obsession with talking inappropriately about sex (oh it was a joy when she first got a facebook page) and her boyfriend is developmentally disabled. his inability to articulate his feelings about the death of his father and his insistent denial (which I have only heard about second hand) struck a chord in re: conversations had saturday night.

in other news people aren’t able to get so excited about the killing of osama bin laden. collective anger sighs as we realize the only people we’re really mad at is ourselves.

i saw the movie you mentioned with not annie lebowitz is playing at the cable car, but i’m in the throws of working on a take home final essay exam jam, so it may have to wait until post wednesday.

wishing all rain was superballs
slr

he knew what he wanted but he was afraid to ask her for what he wanted because he was afraid that it wasn’t what she wanted. so instead he treated her like she knew what he wanted and she didn’t want what he wanted and he resented her for that. he acted in accordance with what he wanted and she surmised what he wanted but then he said things contrary to what he wanted and she tried to believe him. when she drew conclusions he said “how could you know what i am thinking.” her friends said “but how could you know what he is thinking” and she thought. it is because i know. don’t people just sometimes know?

even now he doesn’t live in accordance with that he wants because he thinks about what he wants as what no one else would want. or maybe he doesn’t she thinks maybe he gets exactly what he wants and these nightmares i have been having are all about myself.. of course they are all about myself.

she says, maybe he gets exactly what he wants without saying, but i’m saying and i never do. maybe i should stop saying. but that seems farther from the truth.

he never seemed relaxed or to forget about the ultimate goal, and in this crazy universe its probably just all about the hormones that make him a magic man. something that could be bottled for the unsuccessful.. only he was never really successful. he was just getting laid. but he was she said. and i, well.

the rest is a description of something that never happened. people said to love your work and she did. people said to love yourself and she tried. people said to love and she loved and a giant fissure opened between her and the rest of the world. ‘you think you’re too good?’ no, i never do.

she saw a second him and he was like a shot that missed the target and hit bird the tree. accidentally killer but they laughed, and she held him and loved him but said ‘with reason- always with reason’, and he said oh but what about the unreasonable, and she tried to know. don’t you ever act unreasonable, no i never do.

she saw a third him and the bottom of the fishing pond, and he was like an old coke can, the right amount of beauty and rust, and she knew that it was interesting. oh perfectly interesting. i guess. the right amount of whimsical and classy.the right amount of crimson quiet. i wish i had the right amount of anything she said, she screamed. oh man he hated screaming. she thought. he probably did, she didn’t know.

even though she thought no one else got it right, how can i even get it right? her world was a tiny space in between her two hands. no one ever got in and no one ever left.

raise your hand if you’ve been propositioned for sex twice today while walking up the street you live on! oh just me huh.
i realized i hadn’t worn a bra in two days and remembered that i read something somewhere that said marilyn monroe slept in bras. that’s what i was thinking about as i walked over to dairy king yesterday to meet emmy, anastasia, mike, canadian rob, and n.p.
i didn’t eat dinner. i ate lunch at the wendy’s next to wal-mart, which i guess made my day pretty sleazy, but you know i know people who think it’s ok to shop at a target rather than wal-mart when target is just kind of like a wal-mart for snobs. but i don’t really shop at wal-mart anyway. i just go there because my doctor sent my prescription there because i don’t have insurance and she knows i can get $4 prescriptions there. every time she talks about it she curses and says “you don’t want to go there though, then you just end up buying all kinds of shit” which makes me wonder if she’s testing me or just wants me to think she’s cool. i mean i do think she’s cool, so.

http://www.cnn.com/2011/TECH/web/05/30/pbs.hackers/index.html?hpt=T2

after i had ice cream with the gang, i came back home and fell asleep for a few hours. l called me at 11 just because he is being super attentive in a weird way. he called from new york and said i just wanted to say goodnight. then i asked what he had been doing and he said nothing really it had been really poorly planned and then i asked him what he would do tomorrow and he said something about brunch and then he said he was going to watch a movie and he said “hey listen i just really called to say goodnight, i don’t have time to talk now” when i woke up i was glad he called because i should have taken my anti-depressant. then i fell back asleep. i had a traumatic dream, and the cat woke me up with her gurgling voice at then (4am) and i couldn’t figure out if i had taken my anti-depressant or not, but I hadn’t so I was glad she woke me up.

Up until a second ago I couldn’t figure out if my neighbors have a rooster or they are listening to rap music with roosters in it, but the rap music stopped long enough for me to confirm that it is a rooster. But now the rap music is back on again. It’s 5am and I took a few minutes to transcribe my dream. I wonder if the rooster and the rap music are related at all. Like if the people woke up because of the rooster and decided to put on rap music, or if they got up and put on rap music and it woke up the rooster. Or maybe the rooster woke up the neighbors and they decided to retaliate with rap music. Either way- what a fucking racket.

This morning on my walk over to pick up my car from Monro I found a cute long haired black cat inside of an old tire. He was just sleeping there, and when I walked up to him he meowed at me. He had a flea collar on and a bell around his neck. I think he was just lost. I put him outside of the tire and he just kind of looked around scared, so then I put him back inside of the tired and he just looked around scared, and I figured I already have my handsfull with cats and what not, and he looked like he belonged to someone so I guess I should just leave him there, but every time I took a few steps I looked back and he was peering out at me. What could I do?

While I was doing this a man pulled up and slowed down like, hey look at that prostitute saving that kitten, I wonder if she wants to have sex with me? and I was like I don’t know, it would be kind of cool to have cash on hand to pay off my car repair when I show up to the monro this morning and I could have sex with him at a sleazy hotel, but then I realized he probably only wanted to get a blow job in his car for $15. I wonder if it’s a better strategy to tell the dudes I make them wear condoms, rather than just straight up telling them I don’t want sex, but I guess it’s not. I had a friend, a guy I dated, who hung out with other guys and he claimed he wasn’t there but one night they all ordered massages from girls that showed up to your house and gave you handjobs, and i specifically telling me about Avery begging the one girl to let him put it in her because it was the only way he could get his nut. Depressing.

i decided to watch this movie called “chicken ranch” on hulu, it’s about the best thing ever. i’m not sure if you know what a chicken ranch is, but it’s basically a legal brothel in nevada. it’s totally for people looking for something

L was over my house last night after we hadn’t seen each other for a week. This morning he did this thing where he plays this game he doesn’t think I know we’re playing. When will I see you again? It will have to be after Tuesday because of my job interview, and probably not on Wednesday because I’m going to work at the suicide hotline he says. It’s my part to say- THURSDAY, that’s so long from now, let’s just hang out tonight. I know he wants to see me tonight and this is the game he’s playing. Why not Tuesday I ask, is your job interview in the evening? No, I guess not he says and we make plans to meet on Tuesday. Game unplayed.

this morning when i came into work, i saw hawks circling the building, they always do.
yesterday on my way into work there was a ruffled looking hawk sitting low in a tree, with a middle aged black man, presumably from amos house watching him. he looked concerned about him, the way he was in the tree. the hawk could have been sick or could have just been chilling low, but the man stood in the street, moved for the cars and then went back to his station. just looking up. he was either fascinated or concerned.

i’m bad at making small talk anymore. i used to be good at it but i’ve been tired lately. i keep thinking my head feels wrapped in cotton, i’m not really sure what that’s significant of.

lately i’ve read a few really good stories in the new yorker- the whole reason i got a subscription to it. one i read last night completely traumatized me left me feeling emotionally creeped/raw..

I was writing this to you but didn’t get all the way through before I got an email from you.
Sorry from a sleepy girl, I’m not on top of things. I’m looking forward to seeing your band on Friday, I’ll be out of town tonight and I am going to miss Delia’s opening (damn!). Delia is a special person to me. I like her demeanor, her style, her intelligence and wit, her being, her art. All together now!

I was thinking about having my hair bleached at your show, but I had a nightmare about bleached hair where my hair turned into a weak foam from over bleaching. I want to bleach my hair because of an aunt who lived with a “lady friend” in Syracuse and fought for the “women’s movement” according to my family (she was totally gay!).

My schedule is as such- tonight, going to Westerly, tomorrow night planning to see you rock and roll, Saturday printing in the morning, Sunday open, Monday, open- open until the very ends of time past Saturday. Does that help?

A gushed about the movie too, it’s possible she just wanted to be invited? I’m never good at these underground emotions. Recently I stopped all my emotions up with a big stopper, and it’s stopped up my thoughts and brain to a certain degree.

one day- one big moment- a hole will break in this dyke without a little dutch boy to hold it in.
awaiting my emotions watery triumphant return, or another tree devastating storm.
Looking forward to seeing you at your earliest convenience.

SLR

fedora hat and paper grocery bags flung into the air- it’s an old fashioned party and you’re welcome, everyone’s hands go everywhere. Oh! your awful face i hide because it’s good. Oh! your terrible words! my fingers slide aside to peek out. Oh! all this and Oh! I love all those ones who don’t believe in love my lovely loves. Two people burst a bag of rice by pulling each side and OH! rice across the floor like wedding but messier. OH! my face against the floor tastes blood. Tastes like floor for days after. Everyone shouts in unison! OH! it was all made up. You’re like a real viking ship, i’m like a viking ship at an amusement park. You might be a real viking, but i’m just some barfy kid loosing my lunch! OH!

Oh i’m sorry. but i’m not. nope no.

http://ricroyer.com/coincidentalhour.html

The Coincidental Hour is a night of eclectically curated eccentricity that takes place last Sundays at AS220. It’s an unconventional cabaret harkening back to the days when this kind of cabaret never occurred because it hadn’t happened until now. Master of ceremonies Ric Royer will be your guide through a feast/feat of daredevilish crossings of striking and uncanny artistic occurrences.

Episode 1/29/2012: “The Future is not as good as it used to be.”

In this episode, Ric gets moody and believes that the good times are dead, but his friends Talibam!, Boxcutter, Diego Perez, Idiot Magnet, the Sarah Reiter Oracle and a cool movie all come over to the Coincidental Hour to try and show him that the good times are in our aheads, not just in our behinds! …but will it work? Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Show starts at 9pm
$6