4:44pm

Someone reminded me they were thinking of me.
That and the smell of a rose always makes me smile.

observation 309.24.10


Sitting on the edge, listening with eyes wide open in the dark. I know what I'm thinking; I can't think anymore. But it's out there. I still feel it out there.

With a slow, dying pulse and no relay, no point to bounce a signal, I'm too far away from the nearest connection that I understand as sense. I've streaked past my window again in a glittering shower of sparks on white-hot glowing metal, rolling and tumbling, burning and skittering off into nothingness with the lack of my energy or my breath. One last gasp of air to listen. For nothingness. No wall to hit. Soft weightless nothing. All lines of communication have dropped. The sounds are memories now, unfusing and twisted inside-out as whistling turned to crackling, crackling turned into a few last, audible, intelligible syllables sounded out in a deep, electronic muted tone of 3 beats, "ooww...errrr...ooo," then silence as I'm pushed onward, past understanding, I float away again, back into the black from where I emerged.

It's lonely in the familiar darkness where everything and nothing is possible at the same time, but the sound of your own vacancy will cave your head in and your heart if you don't handle it right. It doesn't matter how many people are in a room, no one can complete you. Focus on the smallest star in the sky, and drive toward it. You have no choice but to keep driving until you hear the signal again. It's there, you just can't see it or where you're going. The easiest part is the trickiest part - that you have to hear it again with your heart.

I will always offer myself up to say no, no matter how much my soul screams yes. I'm wired for that kind of pain. It gives others what they need to pass onto the next step of their own journey into the unknown darkness. They say it's what I'm here to do.




"No Surprises"
"A heart that's full up like a landfill
A job that slowly kills you
Bruises that won't heal

You look so tired and unhappy
Bring down the government
They don't, they don't speak for us
I'll take a quiet life
A handshake of carbon monoxide

No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
Silent, silent

This is my final fit, my final bellyache with

No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises
No alarms and no surprises please

Such a pretty house, such a pretty garden

No alarms and no surprises (let me out of here)
No alarms and no surprises (let me out of here)
No alarms and no surprises please (let me out of here) "

- Radiohead

5:55pm

"What time is it, B?" he asked me. I pushed my margarita aside, and
looked down to my watch and smiled. "It's 5:55. Make a wish."



"...I saw two shooting stars last night
I wished on them but they were only satellites
Is it wrong to wish on space hardware
I wish, I wish, I wish you’d care...

I don't want to change the world
I'm not looking for a new england
i'm just looking for another girl."

- Billy Bragg, "A New England"

When I smiled inside.

Yesterday, 3:33pm:
Something happened that should have, and the inmates won.

Today, 11:11am:
Florida, chinese rice noodles and familiar souls changing the seen world in unseen, gigantic ways.

5:55am: My eyes open.

The weekend went by in increments of 10:10am, 12:12pm, 3:33pm, 4:44pm, 11:11pm, 12:12am, and so on.


observation 309.24.09

Things I found in my sister's abandoned duffle bag:

one empty journal
one empty sketchpad with pages ripped out
one old, overwashed bra
one notebook belonging to her disgusting boyfriend
one empty eyeglass case
one self-help book on how to be confident
one set of colored pencils and pens and watercolors
one bunch of magazines from the year 2000
one brown paper bag
one chapstick
one travel bar of soap
one stuffed animal

And one over-photocopied, state-issued set of questions to answer. Like "If there is one thing you could change, what would it be?" Even though several complete strangers in her apartment complex knew the answer as well as the rest of us, it's still hard to see "stop drinking" pencilled in the blank. It makes my throat tighten and hurt.

It also scares me of why I might be thinking about her right now.

12:12pm

Breathing, thinking, running, listening, smiling. "Gratitude is the heart's memory," says an old French proverb. "Remember five things you are grateful for."

observation 309.24.08

1:11pm

Message: The more I understand, the more I see it as the passing it's been all along and will be again someday. The more I get it, the happier and more content I feel, but the less I can explain it anymore. We've eclipsed and faded to black, but thank you for calling out. It's not about you, it's because of you that I'm left with knowledge, and you don't recognize me anymore. And that is tragic but beautiful at the same time.

10:10pm

1:13pm on 1/13


"1 Outlook Reminder - Subject: Next internal meeting, Due in 13 minutes"


It's the first full moon of 2006,
on a Friday the 13th.

I like that a lot.


"jumped into the river and what did i see?
black-eyed angels swam with me
a moon full of stars and astral cars
and all the things i used to see.
all my lovers were there with me
all my past and futures
and we all went to heaven in a little row boat
there was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt"

- Radiohead, Pyramid Song


Someone called at 3:33pm.

observation 309.24.07

"The Cold Song"

What Power art thou,
Who from below,
Hast made me Rise,
Unwillingly and slow,
From beds of Everlasting Snow.
See'st thou not how stiff,
And wondrous old,
Far unfit to bear the bitter Cold,
I can scarcely move,
Or draw my Breath,
Let me, let me,
Freeze again to Death.

- Henry Purcell, sung by Klaus Nomi


At the exact second I'm convinced it's all vanishing from my sight again, I'm rushing from the building, looking down to my cellphone glowing back up to me with 3:33pm. It's tempting to wish it'd all go away. But this time around, it won't. And for that, I decided I won't ever wish it away again. The reason I always feel alone especially in a crowded room is because I really am.


11:11pm

It reminded me that I forgot to mention, it suits me. I smiled to myself again and felt that warm glow settle in for a long rest in my heart.

observation 309.24.06


So I had the weirdest dream the other night. It was one of those kinds that even when you think back on it, it still seems too real to be a dream so it makes you wonder if you lived it once before. I was in my car, stuck in traffic on a bridge. My mind told me it was the Brooklyn Bridge, but it wasn't. It was a green bridge. And traffic was dead still so that to me was just odd. I felt a bump and my car shook. Knowing my foot was still on the brake, I figure somebody had to've hit me from behind. So I looked in the rearview mirror and, to my sheer delight, saw one, extra-solid pimp mobile. That's the only way to describe it. It was almost holy. It was firetruck red with silver metal-flake mixed in, chrome where it needed to be, and it was a most beautiful street sled that commanded my respect. The driver had one gold tooth that matched his gold shades, and he was wearing a red Santa's hat with one fluffy, white ball dangling down beside his smile.

I half-smiled to myself and felt a warmth spread its wings inside me, and I looked back to the cars in front of me. The bridge was separating, the road was splitting in two as both sides of the bridge ahead of me began falling apart from each other and slowly, huge cables and chunks tearing down into the water. It came apart cleanly and evenly like an enormous concrete and steel zipper was literally unzipping in front of me, and in slow motion, I watched it crumble from beneath us all, and I watched the cars sliding off, one by one, not believing this as they tumbled and began crashing down into the water. Adrenaline kicked in and my mind had enough time to think how sad it would be for the people in front of my eyes, dying. My grip tightened on the wheel, I felt my eyes wide in disbelief, and my car began its slow moaning lean sideways. I knew I couldn't get out. I felt acceptance and knew what was really happening to me now. The first thing I thought was "Oh, shit." Then, next thing I thought was "I hate drowning...please, God, not again..." And as gravity pulled my car and my body down, the car gained speed rolling upside-down toward my impact, and I held on to the wheel tight and felt so human and thought, "God, this is gonna hurt."

I just remembered this on my jog tonight, stretching on a bench, catching my breath, scanning the darkness for the moon and finding it straight above me, watching it hold still then disappear behind a rippling of clouds in the cold, murky waters of the night sky. Billie Holiday sang to me,

"I've got a date with a dream, a dream divine, I've got a date with a dream who may be mine, I've got to hurry and dress to meet him at seven, when any old corner becomes a corner of heaven, blue heaven...I'm gonna dance with a dream, we'll dance on air, I'm gonna speak to a dream, and tell him I care, and when the evening is over I'll kiss him goodnight and then I'll have a date with a dream, and meet him all over again."

Saturday:

4:44pm

Sunday:

10:10am

1:11pm

5:55pm

11:11pm

Monday:

2:22pm


I have no idea what it means either. But I look up, and it's what I see, and when I see it. This reminds me of a time in college when something unseen shook me awake, from the inside out, at 3:33am for three nights in a row. This time, it doesn't scare me.

12 Hours after 11:11pm

Last night, the phone rang at 11:11pm.

11:11, I'm thinking. What. What am I thinking.

Today, as soon as I started to crumble, shaking my head at "the numbers, what are these numbers doing and what do they mean, maybe I'm just tired", someone across the room playfully jabbed at another, "Hey! It's 11:11, make a wish." My laughter and delight exploded the sameness in the room. I looked up past the ceiling tiles and smiled "thank you."

It's just a word I can't put on it, but my God, I'm trying. And this time, I won't give up.



"Life is hard
And so am I
You'd better give me something
So I don't die
Novocaine for the soul
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Life is white
And I am black
Jesus and his lawyer
Are coming back
Oh my darling
Will you be here
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Guess who's living here with the great undead
This paint by numbers life is fucking with my head, once again
Life is good
And I feel great
Cuz mother says I was
A great mistake
Novocaine for the soul
You'd better give me something to fill the hole
Before I sputter out"
- The Eels, "Novocaine for the Soul"

observation 309.24.05

I went up to the top of the parking garage to think and look. I walked back down, spiralling around to the bottom floor, and opened my eyes for images and words for the day. An embossed image of a polar bear jumped out at me followed by the word "integrity."

Who the hell would name a line of tires "Integrity." But I like it.

My chiropractor has a lopsided sculpture of the word "integrity" propped against the wall on a pile of papers. I'm going to ask her where it came from. Looks like signage from a smalltown bank in the '80s.

Numbers for today were 333.3 on the trip odometer and 12:34pm when a friend called me with an emotional breakdown that I absolutely, completely understood.

observation 309.24.04

Usually I don't like reading lyrics, but some songs never leave me alone. Ever. I assume everyone is like that but maybe not, you tell me. But even if I haven't heard one of them in years, these songs begin to play in my mind automatically with a misfiring spark of inspiration, or maybe the other way around, I don't know. So I've started looking them up for research. Maybe it's reference. But I need to know why. This is one of those songs that always went straight through me and now, reading back through it, I know what it means now. It looks like fresh writing on the wall eight years ago.


"Blue Orpheus"

If you want to cry
You can always find something to cry about
It’s so easy to be wise
Over someone else’s tears
But you have a gift
That the rest of us just can’t live without
And it’s something in your voice
When you tell us how you feel

Because we’ve all loved something and lost it
And it’s burning my heart
I can’t open my mouth and just let it out

But when I hear my blue orpheus sing
I know that life is a wonderful thing (Sometimes life is a wonderful thing)
Somewhere there’s love and perpetual spring
I know life is a wonderful thing (Sometimes life is a wonderful thing)

Seems so long ago
The sound of your joy filled the atmosphere
We can make it on our own
But the road is so rocky and steep
And when you feel lost
No one tells you what you need to hear
And the only dream you have
Is the one that’s in your sleep

Because we soon forget what we’re here for
I need someone to say he’s got dreams of his own
I’ll know I’m not alone

I want to hear my blue orpheus sing
I’ll know that life is a wonderful thing (Sometimes life is a wonderful thing)
Somewhere there’s love and perpetual spring
I’ll know life is a wonderful thing (Sometime life is a wonderful thing)

Sing
You will one day be together again
Though you cannot see her
Sing
She is somewhere in the world

- Todd Rundgren

observation 309.24.03

I figured one thing out for certain: It's not that I can't sleep, it's that I don't want to go to sleep because I don't want to wake up without it again. Wherever it is, I feel it out there. If I hold my breath, I can almost hear it relaying to me. It's not a dream, but it's as hard to describe as that. When you wake up from a vivid dream that seemed so real, and if you try to describe it to someone, they just look at you and think "I bet a turkey sandwich on whole wheat would be good for lunch today." Why is it that the only dreams comforting are the ones you can't describe to anyone in human words?

Go to a pet store and look at the gerbil digging furiously in the corner of his cage. It's not cute. He wants out. He wants to go home.



I went to the vietnamese market today and gathered up things from someone else's world to take home and add to my own rendition, and I followed my senses way around to the back to the fishtanks. They were full of so many different kinds of beautiful fish I'd never seen before, all for sale as food and ingredients. I looked into each tank and wondered where and how they lived before they came to this place. I resisted the urge to dip my hand into a self-serve tank and sift through the mussels just to feel them tumbling through in my fingers, but the child in front of me couldn't contain herself and jabbed a net down hard into the center of them. I asked her to stop. Please. She looked up at me with narrowed eyes, kid indifference, and we shifted our attention to the tank I was leaning over and both jumped back from a dark, snake-like fish bobbing out of the water and staring up and past us into nothingness with his mouth wide open, a pipe of water forced on him, splashing and rushing over him as if that'd make a difference for him now. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked. "Yeah," I said with a half-smile of pity, "it is." The longer I looked at him, the more I realized he was dead. It was gone.

Phrases and numbers keep repeating themselves yesterday and today --

"seismic"

11:11 am

4:44 pm

"North Dakota"

10:10 pm

"selective memory"

12:34 am



"Selective Memory"

If I lay my head down
I will see you in my dream
Wearin that polka dot dress
And sittin by the stream
Leaning in to hear you
You will whisper in my ear
And everything I need to know
I finally hear.

I wish I could remember
But my selective memory
Won’t let me.

When I was a baby we would
Go out to the park
And sit out in the fountain
And splash around until it’s dark
Days go on forever
When you only know that much
And everything you need to know
Is answered with one touch.

I wish I could remember
But my selective memory
Won’t let me.

- the Eels, "Daisies of the Galaxy"

observation 309.24.02

So I was at a stoplight today. The afternoon sunlight was raking lean shadows of trees and buildings across the winter street. The sky was bright and blue and the clouds were a thin, lacy veil of wisps slowly rippling and shifting in the sky. I couldn't figure out if they looked more like wind-swept sanddunes or a drying beach's edging as the tide and the moon pulled the water back out to the sea where it began. Then I realized that it didn't make a difference either way. It was nice, just leave it.

So, I look in the rearview mirror. Check my lips, my teeth, my nose. It reminds me of my mother. "Thank God it doesn't happen all at once overnight," as she gently pulled the softening skin around her eyes so dark sometimes. Picking and arranging and rearranging her hair just so, with one final quick inspection, then acceptance. It could be worse, it should be worse by now, I always say to myself. It comforts me that I remember things like that about my mom and apply them to myself as if I were her, myself.

"Holy animation, what’s a human, what’s a lifetime?
All the angels, praying for me, I’m only human
For a lifetime, what’s a lifetime, if you love me?
For a lifetime, you said you’d love me."

So apparently I was paying attention in class.

Anyhow, so I'm checking "me" out in the mirror and catch a glimpse of the two people in the car behind me. Nothing special, just a white (insert model and make here, they all look alike) car. But I couldn't see her face. Just saw his smiling face turned in her direction. That's because she had a camera for a face. New camera for Christmas, I guess. And she was looking though the tiny frame of it at the world, and she was smiling sweetly. Try that. Look through the frame viewer of a camera every now and then, and the whole world looks different, smaller, more managable, and easily captured as art in an instant. Yours to keep in a few megabytes, or forget it and delete it if it's not quite right and doesn't suit you.

And right on cue, the restless feeling poked around in my ribcage.

"Mass producing, more affection, for a human,
For a lifetime, many lifetimes, for a human,
Is it human to, know your...your lifetimes?
What’s a lifetime, if you love me?
What’s a lifetime, if you can’t love me?"

She turned the camera to him and he made the "this is my sexy face if you're taking that picture" move. They both laughed, and for a moment, I felt the love between the two of them. I was happy and sad for them at the same time, wondering which one of them would grow old and die first if they didn't break up years before because one of the two outgrew the other and bored the other one shitless on an average day: A nice, calm day, so average that you feel like a walking graveyard, unable to feel pain or death. Compound that boneyard fracture knowing that you should be happy, then hey, you can feel guilt, at the very least.

But luckily, most beings don't think, they just exist. Unfortunately, I'm not most beings. No big deal. So I've learned to force myself to look back in the mirror and see the happiness for what it's supposed to be: A beautiful moment in an imperfect, human lifetime.

I wish something would tell me why I am here though and not string it out over a lifetime. I keep looking. I'm finding more answers.

"Sacred introduction, to a human, to a lifetime,
Elevation, turns emotions, into humans
Into lifetimes, what’s a lifetime, if you love me?
For a lifetime, you said you’d love me"

- pm dawn