New Story (6/16)

Three things have come together in my mind today: in short, they are Butoh, my romantic attachment styles (and perhaps those of others, we shall see), and the chapter in Brian Latour’s book Pandora’s Hope called “Circulating Reference;” but the connections won’t make much sense unless I describe them further. I will start by describing what is closest to me and most emotional, because it might cut through to you.

I have to come to see a pattern in my emotional life: I will start by describing some instances in which it occurs. One such instance occurred 7 years ago, today; I remember because it relates to the event of my sweetheart’s birthday, and today is again her birthday (happy birthday, Madeline!), 7 years later. Today is Saturday, so the day in question, as it was 7 years ago exactly, must have been a Saturday as well. 

Madeline and I had been dating for a little over a year; we lived together in the same room of a punk house on the eastside of Olympia. We both worked as caregivers for adults with developmental disabilities, and I was in school, though school had probably just let out for the summer.

Let’s backtrack a bit, to a few days earlier in the week: I can see us now, walking to the Mobil on Boulevard to get coffee with large dashes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cappuccino, conversing with this caffeine and sugar boost on our way back. We often talked, on these walks home, about our relationship, in an attempt to understand what we were building together: we were (and are) both very invested in having a shared field of reference, and at the same time coming to a common understanding of our relationship was (and is perhaps less so now) incredibly difficult. One major lesson I learned from her at this time, during these conversations, is that comparisons between how I treat her and how I expect her to treat me can be useful, and are necessary. At the time I had been on a track of avoiding one-to-one comparisons between myself and other people in an attempt to “stay on my plate”—admittedly a silly tool to use universally, which I may have overused in an attempt to stray from my ways of disordered eating and the chaos it invoked in my life. This comparison practice was an especially important one for Madeline to impart to me because it aimed to correct behavior that had harmed her in her childhood. 

Our relationship is, among other things, polyamorous. It was at the time too, on paper, though neither of us were dating other people. 

Madeline doesn’t like her birthday, so she said she didn’t mind that I had planned a trip to go to visit a family friend with my sister in Bend, Oregon for the weekend. I was nervous to leave, and felt bad that I wasn’t able to be there with her, even though she didn’t seem to care.

New Story (6/6)

seeing being seen can be cool and can be scary

sometimes I want to make it stop 

that’s why I practice 

coming back to neutral

New Story (6/2)

I forgot about how I’d decided to use real names because of Bob Glück and I edited the last couple entries to take out the names. I’m not going to add them in again, but I will use real names from here on out. 

I love it when I remember a dream for a split second, even if I can’t hang on to much. That just happened to me. I can sort of see a place in my dream, under an above-ground train. Groundhog’s Day, the movie, seems relevant to this dream, too, but I’m not sure how yet. Have you seen that movie? My birthday is Groundhog’s Day, and I’ve seen it. I don’t especially love it. I like What About Bob? a lot more. I like Bill Murray, for the most part; the way he smiles often feels like breaking the 4th wall, like it’s cutting through something and actually landing in my lap as an emotion. 

I just tried to find something I’d written about Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off but I couldn’t find it.

I remembered my dream a little more. Natalya and Nancy, Natalya’s mom, were in it. I’ve dreamt about Nancy a lot. I’m not sure why. Natalya was packing up to go out of town. I was hanging out with her while she packed, I think. It was hot, and summer, but shady in the house. Natalya was going to Europe. 

From the basis of my mom’s house, I felt like and I still feel like a lot is possible. My imagination was harmonious with the seasons!!!!!! I want that for myself now. Like when I take a walk in the park. The lush trees right now. The little baby dog picks up all sorts of plastic. There are so many people at the park. I don’t want to live in the city. I don’t want so much plastic.

I’ve fostered a lot of dogs now. Somehow I think it will fix something for me when I do it. More, more, more responsibility.

New Story ( 6/1)

I am writing a novel. There is someone watching me, and they write about me. Not all the time, but enough. Little details of my life come out in sentences. I’d have forgotten them otherwise. Discovering the hardwood floor beneath the carpet in my old house. I can feel missing M. though, I can feel that right now. The cells that are wanting that are in my chest, to decompress. My tear ducts open. Is that what happens when I feel I’m going to cry?

Whether or not I think I’m smart enough to write something worthwhile is besides the point. (Obviously, it’s related to the point enough that I’m writing it down here, though.)

What would the 2009 version of me sitting at my mom’s computer in the laundry room, multitasking doing math homework, talking to C. on the phone, chatting with A. on Facebook, what would that version think of this story? Would that version think this version was smart? 

I wish I could just hang on to one version. I wish things didn’t get so blurry and stuffy, so that whatever desires I have could stay frothy and fresh-squeezed, stop arguing. 

This morning after coffee and Vyvanse, I told B. a story about my family. Speculating about the possibility that my parents or my parents friends’ might have been polyamorous, and I might not have known. Maybe that 2009 version of myself, if looking upon this 2024 version of myself, wouldn’t even notice that I’m polyamorous. 

Maybe, my farts now smell relatively better than my farts did in 2009, so that the 2009 version of myself finds my 2024 farts surprisingly pleasant. Despite the fact that they smell a lot worse than they did in 2022.