Mom just went to the hospital. Her knee has needed replacing for some years now but the doctors decided she couldn't survive the surgery. She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and her last appointment they said stage 4. That's maybe 6 months...and that was two months ago. Could be longer or could be a lot less. Everyone is telling me she looks a lot paler lately. I've noticed she eats even less.
I have no survival plan. No money and will have no home. No intention of living like that. My countdown clock is on.
Sunday, September 10, 2017
If I'm awake
Being involved in a play at Franklin felt more like home to me - more like belonging - than I've ever felt anywhere else (the week I spent with Jesseca in upstate New York was a different kind of heaven).
I attended the grand reopening of the remodeled Franklin. Had hoped I'd meet anyone I knew but no luck. Saw a woman who might have been Kristina Burley, or not. At any rate, she had Kris' eyes and smile. Shape of her face was right. Kris always had angelic eyes. Also saw someone who could have been Jacquie Williams. I guess I'm glad I went, I enjoyed seeing the school...but it was also a lonely experience wandering through, alone and no one to speak with. The locations of both my past and my dreams have been wiped away. I walked down the stairs to the cafeteria recalling the dream in which I reunited with her there...and it only led to an empty hall of classroom doors. The student commons is now where the parking lot was where I first saw her smoking a cigarette.
I think Dana was subscribed to the FB page for Franklin alumni but I don't want to look.
Didn't get to see the Green Room. Nice new stage though. It is now at the opposite end of the building. Comfortable auditorium seats, very nice...which means I'd no longer be able to conquer them as I used to, draping myself over them in ease. I might be the only student Franklin ever had who actually enjoyed auditions. BTW, casting call was posted in the hallway for Hamlet.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Trying to draw, or paint. That helps keep depression at bay during the task, but depression robs one of the energy and drive to actually do it. I feel overwhelmed by just getting by, hard to get my head above water. Jesseca's birthday is imminent.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
9/10/17 5 in the morning, can't fall back asleep. Went to bed at 1:30. Dana finally appeared in a dream.
We're at Franklin - the dream posits us as somewhere inbetween both the adults we are now and still students, apparently, still attending. The school day has ended, a schoolful of us are leaving, many are staying. It's more like a college that will remain open and active well into the night. Dana walks ahead of me - I never see her face. We head to an exit in the drama wing, someone is singing, rehearsing. It's not an especially pleasant sound, but I don't care much for the song itself, the music. The sound is muffled as we step out into the dark of evening and the door closes behind us. It's been raining. "Oh, that's better." I joke, referring to the silencing of the music. "Is it?", she replies coolly, apparently thinking it was an asshole thing for me to say. She's not impressed. I've just made a snide, superior diss of someone with talent, trying their best* We're in the parking lot. I'll be walking, she heads for her car. As I still need something in the building, I walk the length of the lot...thinking that I should have looked to see what kind of car she owns so I could watch for it. One drives past in the dark, exiting the school grounds, but it can't be here as she hasn't had time to get in and start the motor. My heart is aching - why can I not turn and tell her I love her? She's right here and I'm letting her slip through my fingers! I cannot break out of the script. She's in a play downtown, I'll go see here there (Dammit, why can't I turn and ask her what the name of the thing is - or where??) As I move, I wonder at the cigarette in my mouth. Why is it in my mouth? I don't smoke. Oh...I guess I chew them as a habit grown out of using them as a pose. I keep them in my mouth because she smokes. I dunno, do I want her to see me like that or not? I take it out of my mouth but can't seem to flick it away. I reach the sidewalk and turn to merge with the crowd that is entering one of the front doors. In my peripheral vision I see the headlights of her car move across the lot as she backs out of a space. Then the building cuts off the view. There may have been more as I walked inside, possibly some interaction with or an overheard remark by a younger student...I want something at the office, but the school has been remodeled and I no longer know where the office is. There also may have been something forgotten at the dream's intro as well, I can only recall the coldness and crushing loneliness of Dana's presence.
Then I woke up and remembered. There won't be any seeing her at her work or in any play. Haven't been able to go back to sleep.
*Now that I type it up, I remember someone from school who had exactly that attitude. Smug, superior, better than everyone else, contemptuous of others. Wasn't me, but someone we both knew. I'm acting like him in the dream.
Is this what my dreams with Dana will be like now? Dreams of bitterness and regret. She wasn't my friend in the dream, she didn't even like me much. Her picture here, I still ask her to marry me as if ESP worked that way. The words ring hollow, there's no hope in them anymore. If she asked me to forgive her, I would. I never will without her asking.
The smoke of the forest fires has lessened but still makes my eyes dry and itchy. Portland has never had them so close before in my memory, within the city boundaries. Some six or seven years ago the fires in the hills of L.A. had me worried for Dana's property though I'd no idea whether she actually still lived there. Jesseca cast a spell of protection for Dana's house just in case.
I love you, Dana. You're a coward and you broke my heart the way no one else ever could. But I'll always be in love with you.
Current song: "Am I Awake", They Might Be Giants
I attended the grand reopening of the remodeled Franklin. Had hoped I'd meet anyone I knew but no luck. Saw a woman who might have been Kristina Burley, or not. At any rate, she had Kris' eyes and smile. Shape of her face was right. Kris always had angelic eyes. Also saw someone who could have been Jacquie Williams. I guess I'm glad I went, I enjoyed seeing the school...but it was also a lonely experience wandering through, alone and no one to speak with. The locations of both my past and my dreams have been wiped away. I walked down the stairs to the cafeteria recalling the dream in which I reunited with her there...and it only led to an empty hall of classroom doors. The student commons is now where the parking lot was where I first saw her smoking a cigarette.
I think Dana was subscribed to the FB page for Franklin alumni but I don't want to look.
Didn't get to see the Green Room. Nice new stage though. It is now at the opposite end of the building. Comfortable auditorium seats, very nice...which means I'd no longer be able to conquer them as I used to, draping myself over them in ease. I might be the only student Franklin ever had who actually enjoyed auditions. BTW, casting call was posted in the hallway for Hamlet.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Trying to draw, or paint. That helps keep depression at bay during the task, but depression robs one of the energy and drive to actually do it. I feel overwhelmed by just getting by, hard to get my head above water. Jesseca's birthday is imminent.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
9/10/17 5 in the morning, can't fall back asleep. Went to bed at 1:30. Dana finally appeared in a dream.
We're at Franklin - the dream posits us as somewhere inbetween both the adults we are now and still students, apparently, still attending. The school day has ended, a schoolful of us are leaving, many are staying. It's more like a college that will remain open and active well into the night. Dana walks ahead of me - I never see her face. We head to an exit in the drama wing, someone is singing, rehearsing. It's not an especially pleasant sound, but I don't care much for the song itself, the music. The sound is muffled as we step out into the dark of evening and the door closes behind us. It's been raining. "Oh, that's better." I joke, referring to the silencing of the music. "Is it?", she replies coolly, apparently thinking it was an asshole thing for me to say. She's not impressed. I've just made a snide, superior diss of someone with talent, trying their best* We're in the parking lot. I'll be walking, she heads for her car. As I still need something in the building, I walk the length of the lot...thinking that I should have looked to see what kind of car she owns so I could watch for it. One drives past in the dark, exiting the school grounds, but it can't be here as she hasn't had time to get in and start the motor. My heart is aching - why can I not turn and tell her I love her? She's right here and I'm letting her slip through my fingers! I cannot break out of the script. She's in a play downtown, I'll go see here there (Dammit, why can't I turn and ask her what the name of the thing is - or where??) As I move, I wonder at the cigarette in my mouth. Why is it in my mouth? I don't smoke. Oh...I guess I chew them as a habit grown out of using them as a pose. I keep them in my mouth because she smokes. I dunno, do I want her to see me like that or not? I take it out of my mouth but can't seem to flick it away. I reach the sidewalk and turn to merge with the crowd that is entering one of the front doors. In my peripheral vision I see the headlights of her car move across the lot as she backs out of a space. Then the building cuts off the view. There may have been more as I walked inside, possibly some interaction with or an overheard remark by a younger student...I want something at the office, but the school has been remodeled and I no longer know where the office is. There also may have been something forgotten at the dream's intro as well, I can only recall the coldness and crushing loneliness of Dana's presence.
Then I woke up and remembered. There won't be any seeing her at her work or in any play. Haven't been able to go back to sleep.
*Now that I type it up, I remember someone from school who had exactly that attitude. Smug, superior, better than everyone else, contemptuous of others. Wasn't me, but someone we both knew. I'm acting like him in the dream.
Is this what my dreams with Dana will be like now? Dreams of bitterness and regret. She wasn't my friend in the dream, she didn't even like me much. Her picture here, I still ask her to marry me as if ESP worked that way. The words ring hollow, there's no hope in them anymore. If she asked me to forgive her, I would. I never will without her asking.
The smoke of the forest fires has lessened but still makes my eyes dry and itchy. Portland has never had them so close before in my memory, within the city boundaries. Some six or seven years ago the fires in the hills of L.A. had me worried for Dana's property though I'd no idea whether she actually still lived there. Jesseca cast a spell of protection for Dana's house just in case.
I love you, Dana. You're a coward and you broke my heart the way no one else ever could. But I'll always be in love with you.
Current song: "Am I Awake", They Might Be Giants
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
Service today
Military funeral service for my father today. The flag was presented to my great-nephew Kevin, which I thought was the perfect choice. I wanted to thank the military personnel for their grace and precision.
Scott attended. Mom suggested we get an ice cream after, so I directed him to the Baskin Robbins on Powell where Dana used to work. Dana introduced me to Pralines & Cream, so I had that with Strawberry Cheesecake - I began associating Dana with strawberries some years ago, though the reason why is long forgotten. I reminisced over Dana and Lori Hamilton. Scott wanted to drive past Dana's old home. The fence is no longer there. We're wondering whether the upstairs room may have been hers. He wanted to look Lori up on Facebook, but didn't know which one to click on...I wasn't prepared to read that anyway, and fortunately I didn't have to dissuade him from trying again with Dana's FB.
I'm trying not to think or feel much.
Grand opening of the Franklin remodel is Friday Sept. 2nd. I might go. Would really love to see the green room, if at all possible. New auditorium, anyway. The Buy-a-brick dedications plaques won't be up yet, though. I've never been to any of the reunions: either Dana would be there, or she wouldn't, and either way would've been lonely for me.
Scott attended. Mom suggested we get an ice cream after, so I directed him to the Baskin Robbins on Powell where Dana used to work. Dana introduced me to Pralines & Cream, so I had that with Strawberry Cheesecake - I began associating Dana with strawberries some years ago, though the reason why is long forgotten. I reminisced over Dana and Lori Hamilton. Scott wanted to drive past Dana's old home. The fence is no longer there. We're wondering whether the upstairs room may have been hers. He wanted to look Lori up on Facebook, but didn't know which one to click on...I wasn't prepared to read that anyway, and fortunately I didn't have to dissuade him from trying again with Dana's FB.
I'm trying not to think or feel much.
Grand opening of the Franklin remodel is Friday Sept. 2nd. I might go. Would really love to see the green room, if at all possible. New auditorium, anyway. The Buy-a-brick dedications plaques won't be up yet, though. I've never been to any of the reunions: either Dana would be there, or she wouldn't, and either way would've been lonely for me.
Sunday, July 30, 2017
(no words)
My father passed today. I don't have any wish to write about it or talk about it. I'm posting to say this is where I am right now.
Friday, May 12, 2017
No Excuse
No, no art tonight. It's my blog, and this is what an artist's life looks like. I don't need an excuse to post.
Something is going on in my family. I don't know what it is and I hope it will pass without me being drawn in. My father 's deterioration is getting worse and his treatment in the care facilities continues to be a scandal. Sounds like my siblings are interfering again. When they've done this before it was done maliciously and out of rank self-interest. Mom was showing signs today of not being fully with it today, that scares me. People are talking at me about my "plan for survival", they're all so goddamn sure I actually want to survive. I don't. Not with the future I'm facing.
Dana, as much as I'm angry and hurting I still need you to be okay. Remember, that's how we came to be where we are. I needed you to be okay. And my fear was not vague or general but very specific: I've never treated you like you're not capable of protecting yourself, or making your own choices, and I've never tried to change your life. I've never spelled it out here...but, fucking christ, do I need to? Remember the era. No one, no one, was taking it seriously. Everyone insisted it was someone else's problem and they were immune. The only care anyone was taking was court-mandated. You know what I'm talking about. I tried to talk to you about it because I had to.
I love you. I always have. Your unforgiving hatred of me over that is a wound that will not heal. You've done so much damage, please find your heart and put this right. All I'm asking you to do is talk with me.
Something is going on in my family. I don't know what it is and I hope it will pass without me being drawn in. My father 's deterioration is getting worse and his treatment in the care facilities continues to be a scandal. Sounds like my siblings are interfering again. When they've done this before it was done maliciously and out of rank self-interest. Mom was showing signs today of not being fully with it today, that scares me. People are talking at me about my "plan for survival", they're all so goddamn sure I actually want to survive. I don't. Not with the future I'm facing.
Dana, as much as I'm angry and hurting I still need you to be okay. Remember, that's how we came to be where we are. I needed you to be okay. And my fear was not vague or general but very specific: I've never treated you like you're not capable of protecting yourself, or making your own choices, and I've never tried to change your life. I've never spelled it out here...but, fucking christ, do I need to? Remember the era. No one, no one, was taking it seriously. Everyone insisted it was someone else's problem and they were immune. The only care anyone was taking was court-mandated. You know what I'm talking about. I tried to talk to you about it because I had to.
I love you. I always have. Your unforgiving hatred of me over that is a wound that will not heal. You've done so much damage, please find your heart and put this right. All I'm asking you to do is talk with me.
Tuesday, May 9, 2017
Tunnel Vision
Starting to wonder if my sister isn't reading this blog. She reads the condition I'm in and makes sure to whisper at me that mom's cancer could...that if it suddenly speeds up I could have as little as two weeks.( and she wants me to believe it'll happen any minute now). Gee, nice, It's hard enough as it is to push back being suicidal. And she knows every time she does this shit I don't sleep for days or weeks. What the fuck am I supposed to do to be "ready"? Ready to do what?
Had to interrupt me while drawing to tell me this.
It also fucks with my head on what to pursue artistically. Stick with drawing and to hell with learning to sculpt or paint? Work on things that I won't have to throw away at a moment's notice - if I choose to survive? Some of this is to save my goddamn sanity, so throw it away. I'm a sentimental guy, things matter to me. So throw them away. Strip me down to a cell. Take away anything that makes life worth living.
If I'm after accuracy in portraits then the best way to draw Dana is to do a very large drawing over a callage of Post-it notes on my wall, and watch as each one falls away over time until there's nothing left at all.
No dreams that so much as hint at Dana, even by distorting them with improbable interpretation. No proxies, nothng. It's throwing stones into a pond and not even getting a ripple. She just isn't there.
How can I address Dana's concerns when no one will tell me what they are?
Day by day my life narrows with my options.
(film noir voiceover) "They tell ya there's a light at the end of the tunnel. What they don't tell ya is that the light is a flyblown bare bulb in a flimsy cage, painted over birdshit white to hide the rust. It's only there to mark the end of the tunnel, and once you've exited it's still pitch black but now there are no walls around you anymore to protect you from whatever's out there. You'll be lucky if anything or anyone really is." Yeah, OTT. (shrug)
I'm making a tool for sculpting hair/fur based on instructions from 'Creating Lifelike Figures in Polymer Clay' by Katherine Dewey. Instead of a knitting needle segment for a handle I'm using a wooden dowel. One end is a set of three sewing needles cemented side-by side. The other end is a cone that will be ridged for making impressions. It's a crude-looking construct but sturdy. I think I'll need to make another with finer needles. Both will be useful. I'll post a shot after it's Sculpey'd & baked. It's six inches long. I've some sparkly Sculpey to encase it with, purple and white.
Had to interrupt me while drawing to tell me this.
It also fucks with my head on what to pursue artistically. Stick with drawing and to hell with learning to sculpt or paint? Work on things that I won't have to throw away at a moment's notice - if I choose to survive? Some of this is to save my goddamn sanity, so throw it away. I'm a sentimental guy, things matter to me. So throw them away. Strip me down to a cell. Take away anything that makes life worth living.
If I'm after accuracy in portraits then the best way to draw Dana is to do a very large drawing over a callage of Post-it notes on my wall, and watch as each one falls away over time until there's nothing left at all.
No dreams that so much as hint at Dana, even by distorting them with improbable interpretation. No proxies, nothng. It's throwing stones into a pond and not even getting a ripple. She just isn't there.
How can I address Dana's concerns when no one will tell me what they are?
Day by day my life narrows with my options.
(film noir voiceover) "They tell ya there's a light at the end of the tunnel. What they don't tell ya is that the light is a flyblown bare bulb in a flimsy cage, painted over birdshit white to hide the rust. It's only there to mark the end of the tunnel, and once you've exited it's still pitch black but now there are no walls around you anymore to protect you from whatever's out there. You'll be lucky if anything or anyone really is." Yeah, OTT. (shrug)
I'm making a tool for sculpting hair/fur based on instructions from 'Creating Lifelike Figures in Polymer Clay' by Katherine Dewey. Instead of a knitting needle segment for a handle I'm using a wooden dowel. One end is a set of three sewing needles cemented side-by side. The other end is a cone that will be ridged for making impressions. It's a crude-looking construct but sturdy. I think I'll need to make another with finer needles. Both will be useful. I'll post a shot after it's Sculpey'd & baked. It's six inches long. I've some sparkly Sculpey to encase it with, purple and white.
Maybe it's a moth riff.
Can't sleep, and my nighttime numbers have been terrible. The new med is time-release, and I think it doesn't stay in my system overnight.
I have not had any dreams of Dana. I have had two dreams of my late parakeet dying. Two nights in a row - last night, and one just a half hour ago. In dreams past, Dana has been represented by parakeets, usually caged by someone. So, though it may be foolish, I'm responding to that: Dana, I love you. I do not know what the problem is, or whether there is one at all. I can't know if you don't tell me. I'm looking for some reason to believe in you still. Give me a reason to forgive you. Talk to me, anything at all. Just open the door, figure the rest out later. Baby, it's in your hands. It is.
(unhappy, worried)
I am going to order the Milliput delivered, the grade I need always sells out faster than I can grab it at the shop. Per drawing, I keep looking at Dana's hair and I think I see a way forward on her portrait. There might be some pics of her in whatever yearbooks I have, but it's not the past I'm looking for.
I have not had any dreams of Dana. I have had two dreams of my late parakeet dying. Two nights in a row - last night, and one just a half hour ago. In dreams past, Dana has been represented by parakeets, usually caged by someone. So, though it may be foolish, I'm responding to that: Dana, I love you. I do not know what the problem is, or whether there is one at all. I can't know if you don't tell me. I'm looking for some reason to believe in you still. Give me a reason to forgive you. Talk to me, anything at all. Just open the door, figure the rest out later. Baby, it's in your hands. It is.
(unhappy, worried)
I am going to order the Milliput delivered, the grade I need always sells out faster than I can grab it at the shop. Per drawing, I keep looking at Dana's hair and I think I see a way forward on her portrait. There might be some pics of her in whatever yearbooks I have, but it's not the past I'm looking for.
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