Archive for September, 2012

Hold Me

What is the best cure for nightmares?
I have a serious case.
I waste away hours and hours of the night
on the computer
on a pipe
with a book
stuffing my face
it matters not
only to avoid actually allowing myself the luxury
of letting down my guard
and floating into the pillows
and the jersey sheets
to bask in the glory of
peaceful slumber
I’ve lost that.
I am too vulnerable.
I am too exposed to the tyranny of my own conscience
to volunteer
instead I weasel my way out of hours
that I need
my body needs to sleep
my mind needs to rest
my heart needs to heal
but something is stopping it.

Hold me, please
I do not care what you look like
You will not be too [whatever you fear] for me
I am open
I am waiting
I am desperate

I am not looking for love
I am not looking for a lover
Albeit I seem to be finding them along the way
I am merely looking for a good night’s sleep

What is the cure for nightmares?
I don’t know, but in the meantime
Just hold me.


Help A Screenwriter Out?

My Dear (As Far As I Know) Monogamous Male Friends,

[this merely means an interest in monogamy as a thing that some people, sometimes yourself?, practice.]

I am writing a new story. This is my very first screenplay. I need to do some research, like I’ve done before except that I’m… not interested in finding strangers on teh interwebz. So, instead, I’m going to ask you, whose opinion(s) I enjoy and respect, to tap into your sense of empathy and maybe your character backstory creativity (#theatrboiz?).

In this story there is a character I believe to be in his mid to late 30s, with a wife and two young children, both boys, ages 7 and 4. He has a one night stand with someone else.

This is not the central event of the movie, except that it is What Happens in order for Everything Else To Happen. But why it happened which will change entirely how I write him. And therefore the story. So I need to figure out some things about him so I know how he deals with this situation (that is the rest of the story that I’m not going to tell you).

What I would like to hear from you is why, or how you could imagine it coming to be that, a man who has been married for about a decade, with two young children, would cheat on his wife? What would he be seeking to fulfill? I have my own ideas, but I want to make sure they are not cliché or contrived, etc.

What is a scenario in which that could happen? (if you say, “he was a dumb shit and had too much to drink and made a poor life choice.” — that’s awesome. because that could be what happened, and so maybe I’ll put that in. But then, if that is what you think — I’d also really like to know: How does he try to fix it? What are is first 2 tactics that he expects to work? Tell her v. don’t tell her?

[this is not a personal ‘how would YOU justify yourself cheating on a significant other?’ // ‘Now I will judge you and insinuate that this is what you really desire!” // I couldn’t give less of a shit about you. Hence why it’s not about you. I just am looking for ways that you would justify in character work for a scene of a man in such a situation.]

This response can come in the form of a list, a scene, an example, a fanfic, a link, a poem, I don’t care. I’d just really like to hear from you, if you feel so inclined.

Thank you for helping find something closer to truth in this character.

Love and smooches,

Gently Please [or] Why I Haven’t Yet Fallen Out

I have thought of a new way to cope
that jives with the way I boogie
in that I write down a list
of all the times you cross my mind 
to know which things to tell you
the next time we talk
because I know
going to 

I think I may be using
this time
to learn what
meaningless sex is. 
When you say you’re horny
and then ask when I last came
I have to tell the truth and say yesterday

[but nothing else]
[like it was too rough]
[gently please]
[and he was too drunk to be hard]
{why is that a common theme?!}
[and he was obese]
[with crowded snaggly teeth 
a wiry vagabond beard of steel wool]

God how did I let that happen to myself,
is what I really feel.
But because I also need to learn this
[so I’ll stop wondering what ifs]
and hopefully someone
beautiful and kind and smart
will happen
in a casual
and sexy way

Correction: I have learned what revolting sex is. 

And we didn’t even have sex sex. 
I’m not even on birth control right now
and as much as I want to
comfort you
with that news
I know that I’ll inevitably also mention when I return to being on it
such that you will 
begin to fret about what sort of 
Herculean Underwear Model for LLBean Who Sings
[or whatever he imagines my perfect mate to be]
is seducing me  
and have I fallen
out of love
with him.

Maybe I will. 

But if I do it will be glorious

[and sad
because I will have 
to break a man’s heart
whom I have been loving
far too hard
for far too long
compared to what it has delivered thus far –]


let it come true
whatever this thing called
happiness is
I want it

If I am swept off my feet by some perfect [for me] human,
then there I will go
[this here feminist!]
because …

I’ll know?

I’ll know… what’ll I know? 
I’ll feel it?

One thing I know
is that I crave intimacy
even with this man I love
Because of the way 
I respond when the
kind and caring
firm and efficient
hairdresser in our little town
washes my hair before cutting it
[it should be remarked that I irrationally fear cutting my hair more than most things, including planes and being suspended from a rope, for example in rock climbing]
He knows what he’s doing
He talks to me intently
[there was a study that showed haircare folk are confessed private information to more than the average profession, along with therapists -duh- and bartenders]
and I feel my eyes start to sting
as this firm kind touch gives me
the most devoted focused loving attention
I’ve had all day
and I wish I wasn’t weeping
I wish I knew how
to ask for
in the correct words
[that you will understand
both how to interpret and how to execute]
what it is 
that I 


yes, and

will be. 

I Did It, This Time

Agency is a funny word.
So is Compromise. 
Martyrdom is A Hat I wish to Remove for a while.
Happiness is hemp bracelet I shall now wear, even in the shower. Even in the rain.

After rain comes the rainbow. After rain comes the rainbow.
The rain can be beautiful.
Let the rain wash away the poison, the sadness, the memories.

Leave me the good ones.
But, you see, you have to pick and choose those from the shattered heap that was your love.
Look at what you’ve done. 
Look at what you’ve broken.
You want to hold onto the good memories?
If you can find them in the rubble, they’re yours.
But I’ll probably say, “I told you so,” when you cut your hand.

Mosaics are nice.
Newly created pieces of art made from recycled garbage that has been crushed because it no longer needed to serve its purpose.
Where am I going with this?
I no longer need this version of your love, so I’m going to shatter it and eventually piece it back together into a haphazard collection of jagged bits. 
What have I done?

I have done what I needed to do to be happy.
Maybe happiness will be with you.
But I need to know that.
I need to have seen all the options,
calculated all the outcomes,
anticipated all the catastrophes

and if I think I’ve done that, 
calculated the appropriate algorithms
to deduce that you are the best possible gamble 
based on the best possible odds
in this incredibly unknown terrain called Life

That you are The One I Want To Be With
then I promise you I will drop everything I’m doing and get my ass to where you are
But until then, I have some living I need to do
For Me
I don’t know what it looks like
Except I know it doesn’t have you.

Thank you for giving me the space I have asked for.
I am holding you in the Light.



I wish to be a bird, not a kite

She says, “Listen, do what you want but oh my god woman. You broke up and you CRIED, you got back together, you broke up again, you cried, you got back together, you broke up AGAIN, you CRIED, again, then you went to some cabin in the woods and he’s there and you’re here and you need to get rid of him because he is not good enough for you. You deserve better and someone better is out there.”

I sat and listened. Maybe it’s true. Maybe all of that is true. It feels like it. It also feels like I love him and miss him and don’t want to damage him or it and I want us both to be happy.

I was looking at my face in the mirror today and thought: “Why are you so unhappy, Ray?”
Because we aren’t together, I thought. Because he’s not happy.
What would make you happy, I asked myself.
If he was happy, was my first thought until I realized it was actually to find someone who will touch me and love me and hold me and remember me and care for me. What would make me very happy right now would be to have sex with someone that is not him, because I haven’t done that before. I am hard wired for monogamy and so as long as we have an agreement of some sort of attachment, I wilt with guilt at the idea of touching someone else. But I want to be brave. I want to meet new people and have a good time and not constantly look at my phone to see if my ball and chain of emotional baggage has texted me yet today.

How to I extricate myself without burning too much of this bridge? I need to be clear, but I don’t want to hurt him … Again.