970

When we were young my sisters and I raced across the Colorado meadows chasing dreams and blowing dandelions. The sun shone brightly as we followed muddy streams up the hills until they trailed off underneath a forest web of leaves. We played house amidst rusted tin cans and grey boulders wedged under trees while my mother kneeled in the mud and planted columbines in the shadow of our cabin. We disappeared for hours, running up the dusty unpaved road with the corgies at our heels until we could not breath.
Sheep mountain carved a sharp, sloping silouhette against the sky. Patches of snow danced across its peaks like freckles. A dense forest stretched across the lower half of the mountain, connecting the earth to the grey purple mountaintop. Evergreens breached timberline in thinning triangles. An august thunderstorm opened up and my sneakers squished with every step. Rocks glistened in the rain. Sparse grass decorated the steep terrain. My purple poncho flapped like wings in the wind as I breathed deeply and slowly ascended the last switchback. I don’t remember exactly when a sparkling lake revealed itself silently as I climbed. Opposite the lake sat a view of the entire valley. From a perch of 12,000 feet I drank in sweeping granite hills stained with rust colored iron deposits, hidden forests so dark and black and the soft green meadows that lay below. Trout Lake lapped against the highway, reduced to a giant puddle from afar. Cabins dotted its banks like tiny fleas. The dusty dirt access road wound a satin ribbon along the foot of aspen covered hills.

what is new york?

la is like quicksand & I'm a falling star. everything is quicksand. everthing is la. what's not la? sushi & fireflies & rooftops & bridges & grey water & fire escapes & leather punk jackets & sake & sock man & wigs & jujitsu & 2 boots pizza & the random middle aged jazz bands @ cake shop & scrawled graffiti in dirty bathrooms & rosemary clooney & projectors & comic book sketches of the skyline & pom mojitos in a lotus filled restaurant in bk & patios blurred by tiny candles & too many redbull cocktails & dancing in the basement of an aparment bldg on 134th & bars lined with taxidermied prarie dogs & as many men in suits as jeans & city boys who rollerblade past the avenues with goldfrapp blaring in their headphones & the soft melt of a city girl's snarling subway-ride exterior as strobe lights wash over her bare shoulders

giving up

Nothing makes up for it: not the beats, not the crowd, not the clothes on the girls. Not the twinkling lights, not the fountain, not free champagne under the stars. Not the excess, not even the pain. The mystique of the old converted cottages has vanished. Instead a sleazy fog envelopes the bustling patio. effervescent energy melts into gold and black and tan and green, a smoggy twilight the color of money. Invisible busboys replace broken bottles instantly. tough black leather banquettes remain unmarred despite the stilettos that crush down on them nightly.

I try to calm down and take it all in. the green lights of the sign outside Miceli's, the bored salesclerk at house of pain (where I got my 2nd tattoo). The lights outside Mood nearly blind us. The other times I danced at Mood I found LA magic: free drinks, sketchy photographers, guys that we recognized busting sick moves on the dance floor. I linger by the bar, move in slow motion. TImbaland mixed with Mickey Avalon crowds into my ears and the beats push me into my friends. I don't lose myself here anymore. I remember a bowling alley and extract myself from the mass of bodies just before midnight. A whoosh of cool air propels me out the heavy double doors of the club. My vinyl platform heels glide over the dirty sidewalk stars to my car as I type out the address of my next destination into the web browser of my phone.


i find the real LA by leaving, as usual. I like to drive up the coastal highway, get lost in a canyon, trace the sillouhette of the mountain until it burns into my brain. I feel alive on PCH, on the beach. I soak up the glitter of the sun and watch it dance across the water. i feel the heat of dry brush and sand and asphalt melt into my skin. tonight I skim across the freeways in my tiny beat up Toyota. City stretches for miles. I parallel park in front of a discount grocery store in Highland Park and tiptoe across the faded carpet of a former bowling alley. Slow molasases pours through my veins and I float up to heaven on a lazy guitar riff. It feels like salvation under silver spray painted stars in the almost empty bar. I try not to lie.

LA swallows you up and spits you out raw. It's either magical or fake or somewhere in between. The magic happens nightly when I believe the fake to be most real. I sail up the highway, coast on the left, canyons on the right, to find serenity I hate getting overwhelmed in the rush to be the next somebody somwhere. Somone else can have that. I’ll take the quiet.

LA is a city of broken dreams that live on in a graveyard of graffittied alleys and freeways and late night bathrooms. It's where dreams go to die. She lies naked on a bed, wrapped in a white fluffy comforter, mind racing. rock music pumping. I grasp tightly to shards of dreams.

Of course I get caught up in the magic of a show. in the light of the diner, in the stars’ faint glow. Of course, when we’re apart, it fades.

fairyland

I don’t even want to think about where I am. it's too much. I got on a plane and tried not to pay attention. I read a book, checked my email. Listened to the same songs. Can't ever remember where I am. Don’t need to know. It's all the same. It was like time had stopped. Had any time passed at all? I didn’t realize I wanted to go back there so badly. I miss it. I miss life, the familiar haze of glossy memory masks the piercing pain. nothing is as good as the memory I keep.

She ran scared through the streets of downtown LA. We tripped around the cavernous bar in patent leather high heels. I wished so hard that time had stopped. That block brought back memories that I’d rather forget. Reading in the park, Walking to lunch, to the subway, to sav-on. Why did it have to be there? i want to go back before too much champagne and hedonism, before decadance and sleaze and rock and roll, before I pretended all that that meant I was worth something. he was standing right next to me. I was in shock, over it before it ever started. Fuck pretending. The past is not worth revisiting.

Nothing is constant. Grow up grow down grow around. sit in traffic till nothing happens. Wasted life or found time? Gotta live closer to the beach (she says). You’re the same and so am i. We haven't changed in seven years. You never left.

You were everything I ever talked about. I still don’t want to understand how I live for you. I want to go back to when it was perfect. Was it ever perfect? If perfect isn't allowed then what does not perfect feel like? I pretend you listen to me but when I only know myself, I cannot know you. Maybe we thought the same thing. Maybe not. A Lover’s temptress goes down best when served cold, over ice, underground. But theres no underground in Los Angeles. Los Angeles is the future and underground is ancient. The future is trash, it is up and out and everywhere. It can’t exist without the past. Can I exist without you?

Fires burn down so you rebuild. Each wave washes our sins away. Renewal depends on destruction, light depends on darkness, but how close can you get? Always a new place to go…never the same.

summerland

There's grafitti on your cell phone and glitter on your nose. I sometimes think that's all I need. My mind won't tell the truth & my body leads me on until these little cues pile up. We rode the train and piled our stuff high on the seat. Watched the suburbs fly by. You said I'd know it if you cried. I leaned against you and watched the world around us and wondered if we'd still exist after coming this far, this fast. We watched the traffic from a meadow. You pointed out the poison ivy. Guilt nags at my elbow, tainting any happiness with the thought that its not real and that it’s not ok to feel. I was afraid to look into your eyes. I didn’t want to see myself reflected back. Luckily the darkness hid them as we sat beside the pool. The stars covered our bare shoulders in sparkles when we walked across the lawn. Your body distracted me when we laid across the bed. Right before I left you pulled me into your parents' shower and under a stream of steaming water I finally peered into your eyes. I saw shimmery crystal amber gold lit by the early afternoon sunlight. I didn't see me or you. Just golden depths anchored by a dripping nose.

be careful what you wish for

without you by my side the city breathes slow life into my lungs. taxis drive, i ride the train, routine finds me and when i least expect it i realize i'm fine. in your eyes we dance to silent songs, lifted by the wind. planets crawl along their paths. from a distance it all makes sense. i'm just so low except when you're around. i never thought i'd see you in this town. a quick burst of lightning brought me up and now i'm down where the streets are shitty there's trash on the ground and I'm all dressed up to dance until i can't be found above the crowd, on stage, a wooden puppet without a frown or a smile to make her real because a puppet doesn't feel. i can't erase the beauty of your eyes with shining planets hidden, solar systems where we'd feel so cool floating down the avenues, no gravity just you and me, making our parade of dreams last into the night,..

it's never over

you apologized for skipping out of town and now i'm down to my last cigarette again. i think i got blinded by the fire i found inside your eyes. call me later call me never just don't say forever unless you can stay forever. please. i'm still so empty, hollow. can't feel it unless i'm consumed by you. i don't know what i'm doing. haunted by a ghost. i can't shake the dream. i want to run free but from what? the chains? i'm still so disappointed. 3-d shapes push my mind, searing memories, brilliant, alive. summer girl in city mode. crackling heat leads me astray, mirages disappear into smoke when i draw near. illusion of contentment melts into a dripping mess. i tuck my hair into a blue beret, keep walking in the rain. untouched by madness on the outside. blisters on my heels water drips down my back. i burn bridges on a rooftop one shiny cigarette at a time

in my city it's you and me. in this city. whichever city i call mine. you and me and the memory of another summer spent walking under the same moon. what am i to you anyway? a fucking toy? a substitute for some boy? it's my life too. i don't want to spend it denying the obvious one shot of whiskey at a time. fiery burn numbs my soul, quiets the anger underneath until i wake up, confused, not really angry at you. i just want to feel alive and know it's not a lie. i don't need booze to love myself, i just need you, without the empty promises. i just need to know i can trust, that it's not just misplaced lust, that we share but something more, that when you walk out that door you'lll come back sober and alive.

can it just be you and me and ella playing softly and candles and white wine and we can talk all the time? whatever you are to me grows harder to forget each night i let another take me to that place i see your face, your wispy curls and soft green eyes. don't act surprised, you know it's true. i haven't had my fill of your candy lips, haven't memorized the taste of your porcelain skin. you don't have to spend the night. i don't know if i won't say the wrong thing when there's no air to breathe.

maybe we were drunk but i guess that's ok as long as you'll still be there for at least another day.
she dances by the window then turns out the light. i kiss her bare shoulder, watch her fade into the night.