say cheese…

i like it on my cracker
i like it on my plate
i like it in my salad
and, shared with a date

give me cubes o’ plenty
give me chunks piled high
give me slices single-ly
and, i promise not to cry

i like it sprinkled on my pasta
i like it baked into my bread
i like it melted on my peppers
and, when i’m lazing in bed

give me creamy dressings
give me rich fondue
give me spicy sauces
and, i’ll always be true

fear of the unknown…

my fear is very real…

binding and restraining…

drowning and smothering…

it holds me in place…

stuck, unable to move…

a prisoner to a theory…

that the unknown may be…

more or less comfortable…

than the known…

the here and now…

…i googled the phrase, “fear of the unknown” this morning. i was looking to see what images were returned in the search. i’m going to share the first two images that i saw. the two drawings made quite an impression on me. i really identified with the emotions expressed. i thought that they could have been me in one of my fearful states…uncomfortable, worried, distressed, terrified, suffering, agonizing.

 

 

 

11:56 pm and 88°…

…wondering…

…thinking out loud to myself…

…what the fuck…

…what the fuck is the point…

…who cares…

…who the fuck cares…

…and the answer…

…i realize…

…resoundingly and overwhelmingly…

…is no one…

…no one gives a good god damn…

…because it’s too fucking hot…

…and, it’s too fucking late…

…to give a shit…

…one way or the other…

9:25 pm and 97°…

…desk fan buzzing…

…hair a mess…

…”the office” playing…

…blowing off stress…

…dog quietly snoring…

…right on robe…

…floor lamp flickering…

…mistaken for strobe…

…car alarm sounding…

…loud and shrill…

…stray cat crying…

…outside window sill…

nonsense…

hot…

steady boil…

slowly burning skin…

scorched, beyond all recognition…

hurt…

all consuming…

aches, pains, fatigue…

curiosity killed the cat…

sad…

sinking feeling…

stuck in quicksand…

can’t fight, can’t flight…

stupid…

slow witted…

really very challenged…

broken heart lies bleeding…  

a side of bacon, sizzled and fried…

…on the hood of an old, orange mercury parked in the alley, half on and half off of the sidewalk. you’d swear that a man from vancouver, washington accomplished such a task. yet the breakfast fare remained unattended. 

…the eggs were bubbling. their ooey-gooey yolks, breaking free of the membrane that held them in place. yellow erupted and flowed into white. white became hard, brown, crispy. the bacon was noisy, greasy, messy…dancing and hissing wildly.

i’m just sitting here…

…i’m not even in the shade. why, you ask? because there is no shade in the god damn desert. there is just sun, hot fucking sun.

…there’s nothing lush and green here. no beautiful, majestic, mystical trees or forests. absolutely no chance of unicorns.

…it’s hot, motherfucking hot. did i mention that? the wind whips like hot licorice-scorching the hairs inside my nose.

…it bleeds quickly and easily, at will with the dryness and heat. my nostrils now have splits from inhaling dusty desert.

…what lives and thrives in the desert? cockroaches…shit tons of cockroaches. i’ve never lived with bugs before…disgusting!!

…i look at the people…lizards…dried up, leathery, wrinkled, brown, shriveled, old-even if young. no sunscreen, no sunglasses.

…colonies of humans, live like ants under the city. tunnels are home for thousands. you can smell them when the wind is right.

…no place for someone with “peaches and cream skin,” as my mother used to say. i feel myself baking, sizzling in the sun. 

…this place petrifies. it hardens you, like it or not. it spreads a dirty-gritty-oily crust over you, that gets in your dry-dry eyes.

…i feel dirty. bugs, people, dirt…i scrub and scrub and i just can’t feel it. i can’t feel clean. i just want to feel clean again.

…i want to be clean. i want to be understood. i want to be accepted as i am. i want to be free. i just want to go home.