What I am

Invisible, to men at the bar, at Mad Planet, at any venue. I'm invisible to the guy I like...who tried to convince me he's crazy, but he isn't, in any sense. Addictive does not equal crazy, it's its own world, but understandable. Crazy at 16? Who the fuck isn't? I know I was...and turned a pedophile away from me...which was okay.

But I'm invisible. Kiss you? Oh, only if there isn't anyone else attractive. Or I'll Kiss When I Am Toasted Off My Ass. THAT makes me feel better. You, toasted off your ass, or Dumbass, because he's too socially inept to talk to actual women. In fact, invisibility seems great....

Invisibility versus stupidity. Great. No choices other than that, because I have to be greatful to what the "beautiful people" throw to me for leftovers....

And the guys just don't see that. That they are the leftovers of the gorgous women, and nevermind the dyke in the corner who can spot the female in men a mile away....and think that it's damn sexxy. Damn them to hell -- they deserve the tourturous ruin they get.

Tiki, Tiki on the wall,
tell me who's dearest of them all.
And as I sit and ponder gods
not of my own religion,
whose gods really reign
loved, unloved or unforgiven?
White and stubborn, unloving,
or mellow yellow, and magical,
or black, dark and mysterious,
or are all gods just the same?
I tend to hedge my bets,
believing in all of them,
so that, sinner I,
can have at least one path
to redemption.
For why should I place all bets,
with one who's monolith,
more than one god would ensure,
at least some forgivess.
But Tiki God of Old,
I pray to thee, with proper tithe:
shot of tequila, glass of beer,
and wonder what I'm doing here.
No love lost or gained
but many faces I could name.
So I will drink up
and wait for the other cup,
one whch will hold me up,
and as I laugh, so will I cry.
The day that goes by,
and for a while I feel loved.
Which makes Tiki worship better,
than what I think I could be,
but I'm not going to place
myself in the One Holy.
So a different shot I consume,
to some other god.
And when I leave the bar,
I muse, such lovely clouds,
whoever you are.

Strange Things.

So I was walking out of work last night, lighting up a cigarette, when I noticed a car parked on the street. Not too remarkable, since cars usually park there. There was a person in it. And for a moment, I thought it was my mother. So much so, that I amlost yelled out "Mom" to the person in the car, thinking she was visiting me at work. And then the little voice in my head stopped me, Uh, it can't be Mom. You know that. So I took another glace which threatened to be a stare. Why? Because even on second glance, it looked like my mother. The glasses. The hair. The clothes. The face. I just calmly walked across the street then, choking back tears and listening to my coworker babble about the poker game on his phone. But person still looked like my mom. And then she drove off. I know that it wasn't her, but still...that person could have been a dead ringer for her.

Needless to say, I was freaked out by this.

The Day

You always wanted me
to talk about myself
and I asked you questions
that you forgot I asked.
But now,
now that I'm not interested,
my caring beaten out of me,
and the spark has waned,
you feel you have talk.
What is it about you
that you cannot, refuse to see
what matters to me?
Don't try to play off
that you're nice or something,
because you've never showed it to me.
Sure you do nice things,
but you don't do them for me,
and that is all I really wanted...
those idle questions answered,
and a little bit of listening.

Wow.

"He's 37, lives with his mother, has never been on a date, thinks that running screaming after a stranger and "posing" for her is an acceptable come-on, and tells her that he loves her more than her "husbands and boyfriends." He doesn't just have a red flag waving over him. He's preceded by an entire corps of drum majorettes waving double-ended red flags to the tune of a red-clad marching band from Stalkersdale High School, Stalker County, Stalkerania--

AND PEOPLE ARE DEFENDING HIM?

WTF?"

Best comment about that situation. I would move promptly, if that were me.

Crossroads.

There but to stand at Crossroads of Eternity,
to smile upon known unknown,
vast swaths of certain uncertainy.
Might I stand nobly before these roads,
but for a moment, to take in solemn dignity,
a thought of what path has led me here -
the tribluations, the waxing and waning
of years gone by swiftly, gently.
And as I turn to once more study
that which lies so quietly behind me,
I see rows and fields of knowledge,
carefully sowed and reaped.
But as any dutiful entreprenuer,
I look ahead to the vast land before me,
waiting to be sowed and reaped;
for in this fallow ground here
is where the mystery lies, waiting deep.
I will go on ahead, tools at the ready,
and wander through Eternity.
And maybe when I get there,
when I lay fast asleep among memory,
those weary travelers who tread carefully,
will stop at these crossroads
to admire the beauty and mystery;
and encouraged by what was planted before,
they will seek to plant anew the knowledge
at the Crossroads of Eternity.

Remembrance

So wierd it was, this day, a day so very hoped for, longed for, wanted. She was standing next to her father, holding onto his arm. "Are you ready?" he asked. She chuckled, and in her characteristic fashion said, "Well, does it matter? It's a little late to back away NOW." She was, of course, nervous, as all brides tend to be. When she was little, "Princess" was cool, but now? She was wearing the "Princess" garb, and well, it just seemed waaay too formal for marrying him. Which is why she liked him.

And so the music started. And being Catholic, it was a wedding Mass. Sit, kneel (when did that come back?) and stand, not necessarily in that order or number. And at the end of the ceremony, where they turned, arm in arm, to walk back down the aisle as husband and wife, she saw her.

There, at the back of church, was an older but young looking woman, wearing a dazzling blue dress -- electric blue, and at the cuffs of the sleeves and bottom of the dress was blue sequins -- blue shoes that had been dyed to match the dress, and sparkley jewlery. She wore makeup, a polished look that was well done. She had tissues, and kept dabbing her eyes, proud that her little girl was getting married.

The Bride gasped and dragged her new husband down the aisle, wanting to run to her but not wanting to ruin the moment. It seemed like the woman was drifting farther away and the Bride hurried to catch up with her.

When she got to the last pew in the church, the woman had vanished. Unable to control herself, the Bride screamed, "I saw her! She was right here! Mom was right here!" As her chin wavered and her eyes threatened tears, someone said to her, "I know. I saw her too."

An old aunt asked, "You saw Kathie?"

And then I woke up. Dreams are weird.

She was also wearing the blue dress that she liked and looked good in, with the blue shoes. Like she had worn for both my brothers' weddings. It was a very odd dream.