Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Sunday, August 17, 2014

green means go

I am writing again.

It is pouring out, busting seams--I'm building rafts and making dams as quick as I can, but, let's be honest about the dams: I'm terrible at building them(sort of on purpose). Despite the violent-seeming nature of it, the act is one of fragility and tenderness. Fingers barely feel the keys, each sentence the thinnest layer settled stacked on bone of marrow. So, violent and gentle. The writing and the world both.

Cue the selfmade playlists and google documents. Cue hours spent in coffee shops I now have to drive to(thank you small town--how I miss my Biddle's right down the street from me). The miles are worth it.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

draft

tumbl(her)

i
thrust
my tongue
in none
where cup
was, lunge
of space
by culprit hands
clumsied--
how elixirs
stain
dented roof--
note unsugared roast,
dark dots
of sea
gone
out--

how time
and dust
our pause in porcelain
blushed,
little skin lifts
of
cut, forgive
her faded
flowered
hook

on sideways
our gutted O
grows
grin
how
full of soap
her mouth
bloom

arrowhead

missing

in
side

me oh my oh

tea

for

tomb

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Love

Letter from Humphrey Bogart to Lauren Bacall. J sent this my way and it is everything.





Monday, August 11, 2014

In the atlantic

Today I promised a whole lot of things to the ocean. In her, I drifted, sun and salt in my eyes letting the waves take me in between bouts of resisting. I reminded myself: this place is a beast. A constant beast, here even when I leave, when it snows, when it am in pain or angry or sad. This is what I think when I need calming, a gentle reminder of consistency, of nature. She rules all.

Everything I promised I will keep. They are both little and massive, and I will live by them to the letter. In the ocean I floated, recognizing both the light and the heavy that is existing. I felt bold and petrified out there, the slightest thing in a big ol body, yet still within the only body I've ever known. I let myself feel bizarre, wild on all my thoughts.

I recognize that I am at a very, very crucial point. Heavy on the very. Facts and stats aside, I feel like a tree whose roots have buckled sidewalk and warped nearby roads. I'm growing and ruining the nice things set into place around me. It's a pleasing thing, this peculiar sprint of growth. In destruction comes release.


Today i told the ocean and in return she held me and frightened me. I rose to meet every wave save for one I didn't see, and while looking down she slapped me quite good along the head. I watched swells of her build in the distance, her edges fizzing on my limbs after passing through. I want to be you, I thought to myself. All the water in me should be this brave.

I don't know what it means to write this here, but I am ready to be who I truly am, and this means letting go of a lot of things I thought meant something. It means I no longer spend time building excuses for my heart. It would be nice if I could convince myself(and others) that I have always been the sort that has been good to herself but I have not been kind nor fair. There's always been some reason to hang onto the rotten, and now...now? Now I don't have time to make up one. I don't have time and I don't have energy. I'm exhausted with being awful to myself. Something has to change if I want to stay above the water.




Wednesday, August 6, 2014

on the run



Dear Egypt,

I miss you.

Today the missing reared its head, a full week after my return. Jet lag alone took me that long to shake. I'm always surprised by the reality of having to adjust after hopping so many time zones in a day. It's a real thing, this jet lag. For whatever reason I return convinced I can beat it, find the loop hole, grit my way through it early. Once again, sorely mistaken.

I wrote a letter to Renee today detailing little things about visiting during Ramadan. How your streets emptied then filled depending on position of the sun/moon. I wrote three pages and still left out so much. Maybe the missing started the moment I sat down and tried to capture you in sentences. I could spend days describing it and I would still miss something.

And J. Oh the reams I could write on the missing.

I cried hard into his chest the night before I left. I pressed my nose into his neck and hoped to lock in the smell of his skin. I tried to memorize that heartbeat beneath my ear, fingers plotting out terrain of limbs. All those things I grew used to were going to be gone again. It was the "again" that made my heart ache. We've done this before, this parting thing. You are a fool if you think it gets easier. I couldn't sleep that night because I didn't want to sleep. Sleeping meant the night progressed, and a progressing night brought morning. I thought this and consciously resisted. Eventually I drifted for a couple hours before the necessary 4am wake up time.

The drive to the airport was quiet, dark--I stared out the window and watched the buildings fly by the roadside, traffic light at such an early hour. All of the buildings with piles of satellites jutting from their rooftops. The end of Ramadan, groups of young folk still awake and swinging legs from roadside barriers.

The trip back was fairly good to me--despite a 2.5 hour delay in Paris. I came back to America on a gigantic Airbus plane...one of these bad boys:



This massive mode of transit made the NYC to Cincinnati plane feel like a child's toy. My sister and dad picked me up and I felt drunk due to 24 hours of next to no sleep. I talked nonstop on the drive home, then crashed into bed with ringing ears and twitching appendages.

Since then it's been a fog upon a fog.

I'm coming out of the fallen cloud, though. J. and I found our routine again--daily calls after he gets out of work. We talk every day and I am thankful for that. Sometimes I feel like I can offer nothing conversation-wise besides proclamations of how much I miss and crave his company. Some days seems to be so full of missing. I smile at the ring on my hand often, which might sound silly or like I have cartoon hearts for eyes but I don't care. Our love is tough, for sure, but it also renders me wonderfully mush-like. I'll exist both stone and velvet.

I am happy. I never thought I could be one to claim such a statement but goshdamn it's true.

More soon. Right now it's off to bed for an early morning tomorrow. Dad and I are flying to Florida to visit my aunt and cousin for a week. Part of me wishes I wasn't traveling again so soon after returning from Egypt, but the rest of me wants more movement. I unloaded my suitcase only to repack it, and I could in fact get used to that.



Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Today is my last day in Egypt.

I leave here with so much love in my heart.

It is never easy to leave J. But, instead of sinking into the sadness of absence, I leave Egypt feeling more lifted than ever.

I leave with a love that is much tougher than distance.