for them

I wrote something…I haven’t written in years. I’ve been told that it’s important THAT you write again, not WHAT you write…in order to get back in there…just remember you said it, was/is my response to that person.

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we were young when we found us. we always will remain, there. tangled in amongst those cars and lofts and tombs and cabins and elevators and woods and long, lonely roads. I can’t think of any of us, even now, even just me, without those places as additional characters, as whole entities unto themselves. us, laying in a square, heads in laps, music in the middle, loud.
my soul lay bare. bare. thumping in time.
a wasteland in the pauses.
summertime. it rolled on and on.
oh, but the pauses…

I still have the scar we gave each other that night. faces smeared and stained. florescent lights beating down. the glares, the shock we caused. thinking they were only alarmed at our usual appearance. her and I giggling our way into the bathroom, discovering what had caused such a stir. “oh, that? It’s just love. this is what love looks like when it’s on the outside.”
my soul lay bare.

they held onto my arms on the nights we went flying on the roof down the old Natchez. I held onto theirs on the nights in the barn, in the fort, in the park, sneaking in and out of our rooms. somewhere, I still haven’t let go. but here? here, I had to.
my soul lay bare.

my blood turned bad that year. an ocean of silver pulled against it. we fell off, one by one, torn towards other things. only to be drawn back by habit and the strength of our own arms – a mangled mesh of limbs, indistinguishable now.
my soul lay bare.

three of us wrote it all constantly. like we could stop time with our words. I had notebooks and notebooks filled with nothing that could stop anything. near dawn, after they had crept back out of my window, I’d get on my knees and beg for more time. but prayers are just more words. he shared his with me one night. blank-faced and silent, in the stairwell, he let a single tear fall. beautiful. hopeful, I glanced down at my watch, time marched on. oblivious. tears were no match for time either.
my soul lay bare.

some twelve years on, I have to squint to remember the best stuff. only one of the three ever remained constant. I adore him for that. most of the old places have changed. were torn down, have different names, were sold, are rotting in junk yards. nothing has ever felt the same. everything feels unspooled at my feet.
my soul lies bare.

things that go thud

Less than a month before I turned thirty-one, I found myself sitting across a table from a fast-talking lady and signing my soul away for approximately 700 (very tiny, but very cute) square feet to call my own.

As of August 8th, it was mine.

I’ve done it all backwards, as I tend to do everything. I got married two years ago and now I’m getting ready to get divorced (it’s final on the 13th) and then I bought a house…the order is all wrong.

My main reason for buying now, is that I’ve spent my whole life moving. I’m nomadic by nature. My parents got divorced when I was three and my mom and I just moved and moved. Then, when I moved out on my own, I kept going, my feet were itchy…I’m ready to stop now…ready to not have to move out of places because of guys or roommates…ready for the pups and I to have a permanent place to call our own.

So now we do.

The first night there, I was totally alone though…with no pups. The bigger of the two has taken on the role of my protector (even when he was too small to be) and could always tell the difference between a house settling and a break-in…Every creak and thud and tree branch scraping against the house woke me up with a start. I could, however, hear trains going by all night and that comforted me greatly. Ever since I was small, most places we’ve lived have been near train-tracks….I love that my house is near them again.

On the second night my dogs were both there…all three of us slept quite comfortably in our new surroundings, which is very unusual for us. Those two are always on high alert in a new place…but this place just seemed to feel like home to us already and that, right there, makes everything I’ve been through lately so very worth it.

low down dirty….

In the previous (and first!) post, I wrote of the one main person that I didn’t really want to find this place.

I have written a few bloggy-type things on a myspace page that he does know about…myspace hardly counts, I think…but it was innocent and only spoke of feeling more positively about things lately, hinting at a conversation that we have recently had, but not even mentioning particulars…

His scary-ass mind read this:

the times…they are a-changing…I can’t really get too into it…but they are, and it’s good and it’s bad, but I feel more positive about things than I have in a really long time…
There is also a certain creeping sadness, as there always is, at times like this.
I always feel like an ass for asking for, or taking, the things that I need to survive.
This is a ridiculous thing to feel, I know this, but it doesn’t change the tendency, does it?
I have done this to myself so many countless times..I can only hope I have learned what I needed to learn and that this can be the last…and that I can rest here now…

and now he thinks I am creating cryptic messages for some guy I plan on dating when we get divorced….yes, we have discussed divorce…but we haven’t come to a decision yet..and I know he reads that myspace page and I know that he thinks everything is a conspiracy..but I am not that cruel…

or am I?

I am not afraid….

I am not afraid to admit that I have a big mouth.

I am not afraid to admit that I am likely to talk shit about many people, places and things right in this very corner of the internets.

I am not afraid to admit that I am stupid when it comes to having this knowledge and not using it properly.

-I know that one day (most likely soon) the very person (or people) that I do not want to find this place, WILL and that they will use it against me.-

I am not afraid to admit that when that day comes, I will not cower, I will not apologize. I will channel my inner bitch, I will laugh and I will merely say “I warned you”, straighten the tongue on my knee-high combat boots (that he hates so much) and stomp off with new-found purpose…ignoring every bit of decorum that my mother has tried to stuff into my head since the day I was born….