kiddie pool party.

we got lost.

kiddiepoolparty — Sun, 02 Oct 2011 04:53:21 +0000

how did it get this late?

kiddiepoolparty — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 01:33:41 +0000

the spider in my room.

kiddiepoolparty — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 06:42:50 +0000

there is a spider living in my bedroom. i know this because we crossed paths this afternoon. i think it was a surprise for both of us — i know it was for me — but i can’t tell for sure how the spider felt. i walked into my room to grab a book or a my keys or something like that, i don’t remember, and there she was. i mean, i assume it was a she, i didn’t ask. there’s something that’s just awkward about asking someone whether they’re a boy or a girl, not for me personally, but some people are offended by the question.

at first i didn’t notice her. i turned around and walked out of the room, but then i thought to myself, “i don’t recall there being three push pins that wall,” and turned around to take a closer look. indeed, there were two push pins and a spider. we just stared at each other, neither quite sure what to say, both hoping the other was not real, or would just go away without having to be asked, or both. the spider was black, about the size of a dime, with some whitish parts, bulky towards the front, as if the front legs were swollen.

i can’t remember who broke the silence. i think we both decided to acknowledge the idiocy of our mutual denial of each other’s presence in the same moment. the spider said something about not being sure if anyone was in the house, and that she had been taken entirely surprise. i apologized for catching her off guard, hoping that i hadn’t scared her, realizing immediately afterwards that i shouldn’t be the one making apologies. it is, after all, my own bedroom. the spider said not to worry about her, she wasn’t frightened at all. i asked her how long she’d been living here. she said she couldn’t recall exactly, but not an extraordinarily short while.

for a time, again neither of us said anything. i was trying to figure out the best way to deal with this invasion of my personal space, while keeping myself composed. i think the spider was mostly annoyed by the fact that she’d been found out. every few seconds she would sigh, as if to say, “really?”. not knowing what to say or do, i invited the spider to lunch, which i had been preparing downstairs. “there are some dead flies on the windowsill that you’re welcome to. or if you prefer a tomato sandwich?”

the spider hastily declined, remarking almost snidely that she’d never eat anything that she didn’t kill herself. i didn’t know exactly how to respond, but i became very angry very quickly. it was as if i had been directly threatened. how dare she invade my home and then decline my invitation?! i’d even prepared rose hip tea and blueberry tarts for dessert! it would be nice, something we could do together. i hated that spider. i wanted to kill her, and i think she could feel my vicious intent. the spider said nothing, and had yet to move. i stared at her, visualized the shoe laying in the corner of my room crushing her little exoskeleton and her pulverized remains falling to the floor. i looked hard at the spider, my rage overwhelming. after a few seconds my rage turned to exasperation, then to resentment, then to sadness, and finally to some combination of indifference and pity. then, in a moment of benevolence, i turned and walked straight out of the room.

i went downstairs and enjoyed my lunch, and for a while i forgot all about the spider. i went to a cafe and checked my e-mail very thoroughly, finished reading a book, and drank two cups of coffee. after that, i went to a friend’s house where we listened to john cage, had a nice smoke, and discussed the possible differences between red and white quinoa. when i returned home, i took a shower, and then i sat on my bed to dry off, and that’s when i remembered the spider. i looked over to the wall beside me, but she was gone.

the birdhouse.

kiddiepoolparty — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 08:42:38 +0000

he approaches the building from directly across the dark street. it’s decorated with white christmas lights and bird houses. the front door is open, and it looks dark inside. he glances up. the lights are on upstairs, and there’s jazz playing through the open window. he doesn’t necessarily plan to go inside, but it’s one of those enchanting, semi-surreal scenes that he needs to see up close. he steps onto the curb, and the music cuts off abruptly. the silence wakes him up. he turns right onto the sidewalk, his eyes cut to the left. he sees the the cast glow of the little white lights on a fence gate covered in thick vines. he never stops walking.

Tagged: berkeley, birdhouses, california, christmas lights, jazz, the street at night, walks

untitled.

kiddiepoolparty — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 06:33:55 +0000

i feel like i’m taking giant steps.

(taken from personal archives from 2009.)

untitled.

kiddiepoolparty — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 06:29:51 +0000

the night is okay.

—

say it say it say it.

(both taken from personal archives from 2008.)

sleepless(ness).

kiddiepoolparty — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 06:28:26 +0000

yes it’s all gone.

—

illuminated black santa statue
light of my life
like disney world

—

dreams come true.
(if you let them.)

(all taken from personal archives from 2008.)

time to create.

kiddiepoolparty — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 06:21:35 +0000

if you stay up enough hours without sleeping, there comes a period of time when your eyes start to hurt, your mind wanders and your body is tired. this will pass. if you stay awake even longer, you will forget these temporal sensations. there’s eventually a trance that takes hold of you, in which you enter into your own microcosm of time/space/thought/reality and feel completely isolated. thoughts are lucid. sounds are sharp. vision varies. this is the best time to create.

(salvaged from a facebook note from 2007.)

thanksgiving/prayer/durham.

kiddiepoolparty — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 06:20:19 +0000

burn it away.

—

go home and pick the shards of glass from the bottoms of your feet.

—

empty now watch the glittering orange

extinguish in the night

—

on friday the 13th, my grandfather had knee replacement surgery. the next day, my grandmother was admitted to the hospital after having complained about being dizzy and feeling pain in her arm. once he was released from the surgical center, we managed to get my grandfather admitted to the rehabilitation clinic on the top floor of the same hospital my grandmother was staying in. after three days of the rehab, my grandfather decided he was finished, against the wishes of… well, everyone else. there’s more to the story, but it all spirals down to the present: both of my living grandparents are at home now, but bound to walkers – one for his unsteady, healing knee, and the other for her general lack of steadfastness. eternally obstinate, and determined to be in control, my grandfather spends most of his time shuffling around the house, doing physical therapy exercises, watching amc, golf and the local news, and muttering “shit,” at his artifical joint. his therapist, nancy, has told him to wear sneakers at all times to increase is stability. she says he’s doing well. when he’s not up, he sits in his slightly-too-small, cherry red, leather recliner – freshly stitched leg hoisted straight out in front of him, propped on the shower stool that he has yet to use in the shower. he tells my grandmother what is happening in the classic western they are watching because she is hard of hearing, and he yells replies back to newscasters whenever he is especially stirred by a story. he’s high as a kite on vicodin, which is his only source of pain relief besides the knee icing contraption he got at the hospital. my grandmother’s senses are being dulled as well. she speaks slowly and must have things repeated to her several times before: a) she hears them and b) they actually sink in. her hand is usually numb. she has a blocked artery in her neck. her heart isn’t ticking the way it used to. unlike my grandfather, she has real problems, not just a new knee. she’s “his mess”. my cousin elizabeth and i have been living with them since tuesday. we cleaned out the refrigerator, throwing away all of the fossilized and festering substances and organizing the salad dressings. tomorrow i am returning to greensboro. i am awash with thought.

(all salvaged from facebook notes from 2007/2008.)

Tagged: durham, fire, friday the 13th, grammy, love, magic, mortality, papa, ritual, shards of glass, surgery

vertigo.

kiddiepoolparty — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 06:12:18 +0000

driving away from home, i begin to feel strange. i’ve made it to the highway, and i’m cruising through the night towards chapel hill. i have about 45 minutes of driving left. the signs on the highway are the familiar illuminated leaf green of past night drives, the street lights tinted orange, the sky deep and cloudy. but something is off. something unfamiliar. something subtle. something i’ve never felt before, or that i can’t remember ever having felt. i continue driving, keenly aware of something. something in my stomach? something in my breath? something in my head? it’s probably in my head. i’m probably tired, because it is, after all, somewhere around 11:30pm. i breathe deeply, trying to focus on my driving, relax. and i blink, my shift in focus between background and foreground. i stay in the right lane. i continue to breathe, and my head feels light. i’m dizzy, and lights begin to trail. i can’t control my focus anymore, and it feels like there is a hole in my stomach that is sucking everything in. i begin to panic internally, because i have to get off of this highway right now. there isn’t an exit near, or i don’t think i can make it to the next exit, even if it’s only 1/4 mile away. and what if i took the exit? i’d still be driving. i need to stop driving. i swerve onto the side of the highway, come to an abrupt stop, shift hastily into park, jerk the key in the ignition towards myself turning the car off, my head falls back slightly, i jerk it forward, i breathe, i need to get out of the car, i pull the handle, push the door open, spill myself out into the night air managing to stand, and i slam the door shut. i am still dizzy, and it is difficult to stand still. the air is cool. i look down the highway towards oncoming cars in the distance, their headlights glistening like stars. i take a few steps toward them, and they bear ever closer to me. one approaches and flies past, moving much faster than i thought it was. air whips around me, pushing me off balance and nearly over. i stumble towards the steel girder on the other side of the car and lean on it for support. i sit on its edge, and i breathe. i feel crazy. i don’t know what’s happening to me. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know if i can get where i’m going or get back home, or if i’m stuck here until i can stand straight and see clearly again. i’m prepared to sleep in my car if i have to, but i don’t want to do that. i decide that what i need to do is smoke a cigarette, so i get one out of the car, struggle to light it as cars zip by, and lean on the girder as i inhale, exhale, flick, repeat. it goes slowly. my mouth hangs open, my breath feels like jungle air. i don’t know how long it took to finish my cigarette or when it actually burned out. i look down and toss it away. breathe, freak out, breathe. i feel sane, but not sure. after however long, i walk back to the driver’s side door, get in the car, and decide that i’m okay. the car growls back to life, the lights show me the road (which i’d partially forgotten), and i hesitantly pull off of the gravel onto the asphalt and continue on my way.

Tagged: cigarette, dizzy, driving, highway, the street at night