hair like yellow porcupines

Monday, October 14, 1996
1pm, train

I win. Work dreams last night. Like waking, life is pretty mellow, full of little ups and downs, tensions and releases. I feel more in touch with my dreams now. Still feel great. Going in late because it’s Columbus Day. Could not get it up to do even 30 minutes of yoga this morning. So what? I have a free coupon for Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

I was writing last night. So very slow because I kept wandering in and out of the kitchen and smoking, and yet some good stuff, a good Miss LonelySmarts column.

Just had to get up and change trains now. I’m sitting next to someone who’s writing like me. I just caused her to stop, I think, because I looked over, and the only words I saw were “I hope to.” I’m having lunch with Harriet. Feeling good that Ted is away.

What else? Ate too much raw food last night. Frank called last night with a thin excuse to chat. And he laughed like Jackson, a short, almost disbelieving puff of air. Don’t want to doubt, but do want to ask, is this a giddy, good, manic mood before a crash? No, see, it’s possible to be relaxed and endure. That’s the only way to endure, is to relax into it. And to wear almost-matching-but-not-quite nylon sports suits with your wife, or read, or do paperwork and homework, like everyone around me.

I look at other people, beautiful 18-year-old girls with their mothers and women with their hair like yellow porcupines, everything. Many people sketching. How ever do they do it? Making songs and T-shirts or whatever.

I was thinking of calling Raj.

My spiritual life has been skimped on. I felt heavenly this morning, smelling the shampoo. Maybe I can practice deep breathing in my house, but outdoors keep it shallow or wear nose filters. And the reason they probably don’t mass-market nose filters is because studies would come out about the quality of air with and without them, and everyone would go crazy.

I don’t know, am I done? I suddenly feel tired. Tomorrow night I’ll spend at home alone, pausing endlessly between sentences.

Spyro really whipped himself into a frenzy, he called me from a payphone Saturday night to tell me he was in love with this friend of his. Not anybody I know. And he really wanted to tell her, but he was afraid it would ruin their relationship. So I said, Well, why don’t you try calling her from a payphone and pasting some bullshit third party onto it. Try that. And he said, Am I that obvious? And I said, Yeah. You’re that obvious. I love you and I don’t want to go out with you.

I’m almost there. It feels good to be going and I’m almost there. It’s working out all over. Even when shit happens, I feel good. This is right; I’m okay. I’m here.

Wednesday, October 16, 1996
10am, train

So, hello. I didn’t have any semi-planned introductory remarks, though five or six topics spring to mind, as ever. Dreams for instance. Maybe I should give myself some topics riff off for Fat Rabbit on Saturday. I definitely want to go home and prepare tonight. Had a good day yesterday, except smoked too much. So basically fucked around most of the evening. Smoking and smooching, not too bad.

Beautiful bridge. Much less shit to sort through, I think. Going to see Judith today. Hope it’s good. I don’t want to talk about what’s wrong with me. I want to smile.

Saturday, October 19, 1996
10:30am, train

Mommy’s taking the baby home now.

Saturday morning on the D train from Frank’s house where I woke up at 5am, panting, unable to catch my breath, freaked out, cold and hungry. Had a dream that he had wrapped his legs around my waist and was squeezing, that he wouldn’t let me go. I was in pain and couldn’t breathe.

His leg really was flung over my left side and I still feel it there. What’s that pain there. Why do I always have it there, on the left side of my tailbone? What am I holding? He put on lights and soft music and made tea and tears streamed from my eyes. Mommy. I didn’t understand what we were doing there. Why we weren’t in our cozy, warm bed with our stuffed armadillo and our kitties. Why I was naked in a towel and a sheet, fucked, in a place I wasn’t sure of. I guess that’s it. I’m not sure.

So I fell asleep again, had more weird dreams. Woke up and made passionate, what? Love? Sex. But with caring. Spent an hour and a half last night just touching, looking at each other. Having a slow, deliberate time of it. I know I was wondering on the way there last night, why am I doing this? I need to be alone tonight. So now I learned to listen to myself. The left tailbone. Telling him about the famous hypnotherapy session. Why? I try to get so close. He was hyper: Read this. Did you ever notice this? How do you feel about this? Nerves.

So funny. I’m hungry and happy to be on my way home. I have shrink-lash. I thought, of course Judith didn’t bother to admonish me for jumping into it with Frank. The circumstances would be enough for me to figure it out. And I thought, Mommy, don’t make me do this anymore. I hurt his feelings, I think, but discussed it briefly this morning. I also felt let down that he had to get up and go, couldn’t stay with me after an emotional night.

But he did linger a bit and he was tender and concerned last night. What do you want, he said. I said I want to be genuinely close, leaving out I also want to be taken care of. Please take care of me, please don’t make me take care of you. And please don’t make feel like I fucked everything up. Don’t react.

Still feel it in my lower back. Today would be a good day for escape. I am sometimes afraid, but I do feel okay. I just have to listen myself more, all the time. Listen to me. I love you and care about you and want to take the best care possible of you. I want to help you, nurture you and support you. I think you’re great. I want us to be happy, really feel good.

I love you. I’ll make us something to eat when we get home. Then we can smoke, cry, be afraid, feel what we need to feel. I feel better. It was scary, but not too too bad. It will never be too too bad again. I love you and I’m here.