From My First Day at My First Full Time Desk Job

Remember that time I threw up on the pavement,
Outside of your car door--
dizzy from the clouds?

I am not pregnant

I am not drunk.

I am fucking purging my past.

First day on the job,
full-time, whatever.
Stuck at a desk maybe
and a rumbling in my tummy.
I spent my 1st hour of my new job
in cold sweats--
trying to smile but then shitting rivers
in the only bathroom
Almost naked on the tile floor asking,

"please stop."

Then in the office I could barely
stand up straight,
my voice no longer works and
they still filling in numbers,
"We are not doctors here."

I am purging my past of free schedule,
no commitments,
unlimited time off and
no benefits.
I am purging myself as an artist
pressing forward to make a name for myself.
I was asking God, whoever,
for some stability.
Some responsibility that I could grow from.

Given a chance to learn new things
and am now learning how to shit a storm
and feel wholly embarassed.

The "I can" is the challenge
and the
"why can't I?" I am challenging.

The second I arrive home in my bed,
what is done is done---
Potential falling through and
maybe no turning back
because I have already said goodbye.

My bed in covers
shivers
cold and warm

Just let me sleep as if it didn't happen.
Remember that time
I was on the computer and my entire
body went fucking balistic?

forget it already. 

A list of things to do from last year, I am approaching 30 now

-drop business class
-look into grad school/apply for grad school
-mail items
-get in studio next week
-organize details for design work
-get health insurance
-pay student loan
-pay off credit card
-do time card for ____
-send pay stubs to Sally Mae

Look up
there is stillness all around you
if you just open your eyes

What is there
has been there

People are not enemies
We are each encompassed and held
so tightly by ourselves

our laughter and sadness
This world sucks us up
We get lost

But we are becoming more aware
In the blossoming fruit of the tree
are we
ready and bound to be ripe.

What life is this if we have
not learned to enjoy
all that we have
created?

In complete amazement
and action,
the will to grow deeper

in this stillness.

[relax here]

When you go to a place you take on part of the consciousness of that place. The language, the dress, the style, the mannerisms.

 Speak to me but only in whispers late at night
and please try to remember what is said because
i don't want to explain myself again come morning.

please disregard my love letters because they don't
make sense to you, and they probably wouldn't
to me either.

Last night I went through photos of 5 years
I am now clay, bitter reds
hands dry and you're down the avenue
drinking sorts of whiskey and wine

i am just trying to be
as cute as i can be
all huddled up in fetal position
poison/sorrows and listening
to nothingness nothing
conversations of
if I were stranded on a desert island.

Let's think, let's not think
such questions and bare ourselves
with facts and feelings no matter
how fiction

in fetal position
beating myself up for
social time wasted.

I am not short term committed to you
for life.

She didn't know you and therefore
did not mistake you for
versions of strength
working man, not sad at all and so not
broken winged.
(we are fooling each other)
we are doing it ourselves.

(Please) let's mistake this for sometime longer
because the cold is letting itself in through
the cracks in my window, and being close
 and being imperfect

is (was)

City Dreams
city scapes
city streets
grown up
grown life
you want a baby one day
one day you want plans
Running from a volcano erruption
Volcano cliffs
jumping out into shallow water.
Just jump
(I am afraid)
Pretend you jumped
(I want that falling feeling)
Have gravity plummet me
bruised and feeling something
better than nothing.

This is my cubby room with a view
This is what my hands feel and smell like.
These are the things that I hold-sift through,
mold into pieces.

Every night I want to curl up with a feeling
of accomplishment.

Every morning I wake-up to traffic.

Not sleepy in the slightest (at first).
I have to get things and places out of my system-
so that I can be closer to not moving.
Be closer to staying still even though there is no
stillness in sight.

If tomorrow will be productive
and if I will connect with and be close to
everyone that I love, here.
All spread out across the city
and it becomes weeks/months before
we're able to see each other and when
we do
I will surely show resonance of that beat-up
alone feeling that I am met with
when I sit solitary on that step
nightly.

Stairs to the doorway.

what thing I can do
before I go to sleep,
before it's too late
and can't get
enough sleep to be productive
in the morning.
Do. Make. Be. Do more. Get better.
(my mantra, my thoughts)
get better so that you can do more-
so that you can develop close relationships
and finally feel at peace.

First Lesson
that I have learned
is that I must take care
of myself
more
give myself my art
my time
my energy to feel
stop being angry at other
people
stop relying on them, too
be here/there for myself.

At least a letter from me

NOT yours/done

From my last week in Europe, over a year ago

(I still vividly remember the color of the sky that night)

Regardless of whether or not I got on the night train
it's fucking beautiful outside.

My last day in Castellammare,
I walked down the dock,
in the harbor of the Mediterranean. the bay.
And I stood
up and down I went with the wind blowing my hair
in each direction on that dock
waves like I might have been eaten,
had I feared them.

The water, aqua marine.
Italians have more than one word for blue.
We have adjectives,
light blue, navy blue, dark blue, electric blue.

Madonna De la Aqua.
Spouts of mineral water,
coming from the Madonna herself-
Italians come here to the spout and fill jugs, wash their
faces, pray.
Put together with mosaics made by locals.
Good for digestion.

I feel stronger than I ever have.
Like a horse, an elephant, a whale.
Just because I left my hoodie with a skull
doesn't mean that I have abandoned plans
to play cello in a metal band.

I have become rather accustomed to being alone,
without foreign English speakers nearby,
I think this is as long as I could have taken it.

what should I pray for and how to begin

Step 1: Get out of Bed.

Step 2: Go do something.

Be thankful for all that you have.

Resolve. Patience. Love. Trust. Service to others. Service to self. Remembering without regretting. Letting go and accepting new things as they come. Being ok. Being thankful. Inviting success. Be an artist. I am an artist.

I ate it.

That big black ball hanging onto my esophagus.

It went down my throat and

through my digestive tract

and then it circulated through my veins,

Around in my body, emptying out

until it eventually evaporated through

my sweat

as it dried.

Oh how long,

since I have felt this falling feeling.

At one point, you realize that everything has changed.

And that you made it this way.

You ricochet pavement upturned

unnegotiable frienships,

jumped-up-and-left

and thought, for a second,

that maybe you could just say

yes-and-continue-as-usual.

But then you realized there

was nothing to go back to, or be usual with.

You can come back to that place

that you've called home,

and you can sift through the belongings

of

the-girl-who-was-once-me.

You used to paint your hair and talk to animals.

You used to have people, old friends,

at your fingertips.

You used to sneak out of your window to put

poetry on the windshields of the cars

of the boys that you liked.

And even when you see those old things and

remember those old people, not

one part of it is the same,

nor could it be if you tried.

And you've tried

you've tried really hard.

You've tried hard to set free

and go back all those

times that you tried,

tried to forget them, tried so hard to forget them while in

them, cold and dusty train wrecks in the middle

of the desert trying to catch sunset on a camera

before dinner is served.

And you can thank yourself-or-god-or yourself-as-god.

That you can move away from all of those

teenage big dreams

of making it

and you still wonder if you

can.

Until 5-10 years have gone by

and you're completely satisfied

with the every-perfect-little life and

death that is happening/has happened

quite constantly,

all around you.

From last night

I kept on waking up from dreams, not sure if at this point I remember all of them but

The first one I woke up from. I went to bed around 10:30 and woke up at midnight. I was squatting in this house, there was gang violence going on. Someone shot me but I lived and I was still hiding in the house. I remember people looking in through the windows, shots happening. I woke up after this, crept down into the kitchen and ate bread and butter until I felt better.

The next one I was with my mom, we drove to Portland for Shine a Light, the reason why were were able to was because we were stuck playing this giant video game together, and we got someone to fill our spot. We got there early, and I remembered thinking that I looked kind of crazy from the trip. The art museum was so beautiful and fun and no one had shown up yet, I remember thinking that I would soon see Justin there, but never did.

The last one:

I was at a Whole Foods, and I was buying all kinds of beautiful vegetables. I couldn't afford all of them and checked out through this woman who was flirting with me. Since I didn't have enough money for everything I had to take some items back. As I was leaving she gave me her number on a 3X5 card and had drawn little animals on it. When I got to my car a window had been wiped out, everything in the backseat was gone, and the trunk was wide open, with my pottery wheel gone.

I still feel tired. Too much battling in waking and sleeping life.

Time to Get Better

I dream, I succeed, I grow, I learn.

Katherine's P.S.U.

Artist K.B. curated her own Public Social University on an island and artist residency near Indianapolis. She asked Ro and I to write a letter that she could read at her event on the topic of WATER and here it is:

Dear K. and Public Social University Attendees,

K., congratulations on curating your very own Public Social University! It was always our intention that others would create their own events, and Public Social University would soon spread like a wild-fire throughout the city, or in this case the country. I am currently in Oakland, working on new projects, and getting used to the rhythm of the bay area.

A beautiful part about putting on Public Social University events, among many, was that the more we explored different themes and topics, the more we learned about our community and the wonderful things that people where doing in it. It was also enlightening, that when picking a theme like Oral History, people from all over the city would come out to show and share with us their similar vision. So many people donated their time to learn and teach!

When Ro and I first got together we would go on long walks and talk about what our school would be like as well as what we would like to learn. It was important to me that our events be multi-sensory, as I have been a kinesthetic learner all of my life, I wanted people to be able to come and learn about a topic from many different modalities. As Ro and I were dreaming, everything was falling into place, like being able to use SEA Change Gallery for example, or randomly meeting that new person who just happened to be the missing link to one of our events.

I did my last event on the topic of LOVE. It was a special and important topic for me because I was about to leave on an international journey. I also dreamt of talking about love in a public and open space with strangers. That night, we had lectures, a performance, a conversation share, and food all based on love. It was a perfect prelude to my adventure, and made for a bittersweet goodbye.

It is extremely difficult for me to compartmentalize all of the feelings that I felt during and after Public Social University. I held onto it so tight, I started to become acquainted with how to organize community events, and I felt, and still feel, so blessed to have met all of insightful people that I have throughout that time. If we join together like we know we can, we can create amazing things! We have each other, which is truly something powerful.

I often think of moving back home and continuing the project, I leave myself open for such opportunities to arise.

We can never really know one another

Buckets filling abundant glitter smoked

night skies of fleeting feelings

staying up into the wee hours

because I don't want to wake up

and have this feeling be gone by morning.

Making maps of backyard memories

and all the pain in my body.

The various places where I have felt

how special it is to love.

In my hips, my head, my heart, my toes.

I will show you this map one day

if you have not already

come to know it.

It doesn't quite hit until the bottom.

After I have completely committed to falling.

Until I have completely committed to standing up.

To looking around.

Poem By Thomas Fleming

Hi Dad,

I remember once when I was around 15 years old. I was at a poetry reading and you came to pick me up there. It was at the really old coffee shop, the one that was where Dominos is now.. by where that record shop "Solid Gone" used to be. I remember you came in to pick me up and you recited a poem for us. I remember really enjoying the poem. Sometimes I think about it, something about past lives... does that ring a bell?

Love,

Judy

I once had a chat monk; a Buddhist guy
Who told me when my heart stops and my blood runs dry
I'll come back as another man in a whole new life.

I told him that when you no longer dwell
If you're good you'll go to heaven, if you're bad you'll go to hell
You'll pass through the gates of Peter or you'll live in satan's cell

My last day on this earth did since come and go
I didn't see the fires of hell or the lights of heaven glow
For I wear an unfamiliar face and speak a voice I did not know

I live my life in the body of another
I have a different father and I have a different mother
And the monk that I'd once spoke to has now become my brother.

-----

Something like that.

Love,
The Dad

My Birthplace, Creston Iowa

I am almost 27, I was thinking about going to Creston for my birthday.

I haven't been there since I was a one-year-old, though I have since been writing it on identification papers. The photos of Creston somewhat surprisingly remind me a lot of the town that I grew up in, similar to any small American white-bred agricultural town, perhaps. I imagine myself arriving there with a great sigh, only to return to the pavement in awe and wonder of the absurdity of our lives.

Maybe I will just drive to New Mexico instead.

UPDATE: I went to neither Creston, Iowa or New Mexico for my 27th. I went to Burning Man, it was fun.

Woke Up From This One

In Oakland, CA.

I watched the wine glasses sink in the quick sand.

Off the banks.

The sky were bricks of grey, building blocks.

The ground was a beautiful brown, so close from red.

I went after the glasses as they were sinking.

Like I was so afraid to lose the nectar nightcaps.

I lost my footing and

as I was shrunk into, I fell into the river.

Quick moving sand down and then I was swept away

by the fast-moving current. It curved.

When I side-paddled

hard enough to make it to shore I looked

up and through the brambles noticed a man approaching.

Who could have been the man of my dreams-

tattered, labor-working

vest, suspenders, cowboy hat.

He had a stern, kind deep sadness in his eyes.

He put a gun to my head.

I said.

(on my knees)

I don't want to die

I want to live

I want to live

I want to live.

And he put the gun down.

We embraced so tightly that I could feel the curve

of his back.

Hypnosis

"I am stuck because I am stuck because I am stuck, and so I am stuck."

"I am free because I am free because I am free, and so I am free."

A message sent to my friend Ariel

In San Francisco, CA.

I woke-up from a dream that an old Indian (who was missing teeth) woman was living inside of me. I think I tried to tell her I didn't need her anymore- in an exorcist way she left my body and I met her outside of myself, she expressed that she was keeping me safe. We thought of making art made with sticks and bamboo.

Side Steps

In Portland, OR.

My heart is,

from the depths of 5 layers of surface land-mass,

deposits of sediment and golden, rolling endless hills

of feeling and experiencing

loneliness deep in arches

made by sea-weed kelp forests

seemingly celestial by-ways.

Atop mountains

(photo-synthesized)

gardens of grey neon.

Forging through memories

of all the pain that was swept up again,

by all of the trivial

ins and outs of my every day experience.

so-low.

solo show sailing out to sea.

So imagining I would be with you

until I escaped and ended up by your side.

Even though we both had changed,

our communities were the same-

and it was so glorious to be among you,

still.

In this memory that we were forming

that was no longer about happiness,

but about side-stepping

Maybe avoiding the ontological trauma

we had endured being, separate from one another.

And maybe learning that it was only me missing you-

And romantic -OH- this sentiment was not double edged.

It was not head to head

it was head to tail

edge to handle

Being together, we were, and again remembering why

it happened that we fell

apart

field faked roaming

waist deep and sniffing

pollin-sleet, skin/fresh air in cities.

It's ok that I let you,

and all of this.

go.

Back in the States, stuck in Fallon, NV

I have been back in the United States for maybe almost 3 weeks now, I haven't been keeping track so well. I have been spending a lot of time on Craigslist, applying for jobs, looking up places to live in both Oakland and Reno. Somewhat reluctantly, I admit that if I had a best friend right now, it would be craigslist.org. After my last post on Craigslist, asking to house-sit and dog walk, I got strange emails from someone. I have thus decided to steer clear of posting images of myself on the site. The conversation is shown below. Kind of made me feel uncomfortable.

Thankfully, I am looking on the bright side of things. I am seeing this stage as a time for my ideas to grow and develop, to give myself a chance to apply and do research for things that I normally would not have. I am certain that when I get around my friends, with opportunities abounding, I will find little time to work on my projects, or to research into dreamy programs such as Pland summer artist residency. The key is to remind myself that this was my choice, to enjoy the freedom of not having a home yet. This may be also be my last chance to share a space with my family before I make a valiant effort toward some form of adulthood.

The photo above was taken somewhere between Vienna and Bratislava. The photo below was taken from my computer in San Francisco, after my first night sleep in the US.

*************

Judy Fleming,

I would love to meet you.

I own a new 5 bed 3 bath home in Reno.

I live in it alone.

How old are you?

Any more pics of you?

Glen

------------------

Judy,

Did you get my email?

I want to talk to you about your living situation.

Glen

----------------------------

Yes, I actually just found something else. Thanks, though.

-----------------------

So are you in Reno?

Can I meet you?

Glen

-------------------------

No. Stop emailing me.

The Last Page

In Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Maybe if I didn't fall in love so easily,

it would be easier to avoid heartbreak.

Maybe if I loved myself as much as I loved people,

I wouldn't need to sell all of my belongings,

take a road trip and fly to a foreign country-

just to lock myself up on some hilltop countryside

surrounded by a language that I don't speak

because

things didn't go exactly as I had planned it.

And so.

I got lonely with myself.

I started having dreams

that I was with people-

flying in the sky like a

helium balloon.

Taking ice-cream from passers-by.

and writing poetry on the naked body of a lost lover.

Maybe the hardest part,

was that I made it so hard on myself.

I kept walking and searching

thinking I could force-find

what I was looking for

Only to end up with blisters on my feet and a profound

longing from something from my past,

anything.

(I kept looking for us)

And although I don't think that I have found it.

I have found something.

I have satisfied a deep curiosity

and I feel more able than I ever have.

I don't feel afraid to love

but I feel less certain that it will happen quickly.

If at all.

But maybe that's not the point.

Because I have found that dancing with myself

-eyes closed-

is a great way to dance.

And being and feeling love no matter

with whom, it is just that I am feeling it at all,

is better than being locked up with only myself

to converse with.