I know the two of us just don't fit. For one thing, you never told me where we stood...but I guess you never knew and neither did I until tonight. And for another, you never really knew me and damn it all to hell if you ever let me finally know you.
You don't like the way I chain smoke on a sunny day or cold morning or after a couple shots of Jack and one long conversation that ends up meaning nothing.
You don't like it when you ask what's wrong and I tell you.
You can't stand to see me kiss a stranger.
You regret that promise you made to me, the one you thought I couldn't believe in.
You get scared whenever you see me hanging from a branch or screaming my insides out on some grimy stage all hurt and free.
You know, it's funny how you could look at a busted car or a bruise and say it's beautiful, but when it came to me and you it was never about beauty or anything that would have brought the two of us any kind of release or salvation.
You hate the way that you left me and you hated the way I stood up for myself when you came back to tell me how hard life is for everyone.
When you held me it was only because I seemed low enough to make it safe for you to hold me.
I came on too strong and too willing and your apologies came too easily.
Now me. . .well, it was never about me was it? There was no me; there was only you, and the you that you saw in me. I was never there. I was never anywhere, no matter how hard I tried. Now for that, I would never blame you. That should make you happy, knowing how much you hated blame in any form.
What do I want from you? A month ago I would have wanted you to die. But tonight. . .take your walk to the creek. Watch it flow and tumble and wash over your hands; I remember how fond you were of metaphores. Just know I'm not gonna be the tramp sitting on the cold sturdy rocks by your feet anymore. I'll get mine. After all, if you can stand all this so can I. I'm not even gonna bother to ask you to remember me, but God damn it all to hell if I should ever be able to forget you.
Jesse
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Don't Ask
"Mmm...ok what now?" Michelle asked as she slid her fingers through the wax on Luke's back. He folded his arms underneath his chin and watched the red glow of the candle grow dimmer and then fade out with a smooth stream of silver smoke. The blue comforter they had laid on the living room floor for the occasion was covered in splotches of wax that soon dried into a white stain. Michelle grabbed some of her long red hair and started running it up and down his spine, then laid down on top of him. He smelled like cinnomon and pine and she liked the the way the oily wax felt between their naked skin.
"Well, I dunno about you, but I think I'm gonna make me some toast with jam."
"What? Really?"
"Yeah," they both sat up and Luke stepped into the kitchen, about five feet away in their small apartment, and turned the light on, "I feel like some toast with jam. We've got all night and we've had all day, I want a snack."
He grabbed a piece of wheat bread and stuck it in the toaster oven, then started rubbing his greasy arms. He was a pre-op transman, but still felt completely comfortable being naked in front of Michelle, and it showed in the way he moved. He did everything in the same soft, yet firm way, clothed or un-clothed. Michelle leaned back and watched every line and curve.
"All night? You mean it? really?" she replied in a childish voice, then smirked at him.
"Oh, like I've never gone all night before. Yes of course, that's the whole point of this. And by dawn," he began searching through the fridge for the jam, "you and I are gonna be rightfully fucked. I mean rightfully fucked"
"Well aren't you a romantic bastard."
"You know it. Anyway," he grabbed the strawberry jam and closed the fridge, "what I mean by rightfully fucked, I mean. . .like neither of us are doing shit tomorrow. Just ain't gonna happen. Everything from the waist down is gonna be shot to hell for at least a day after we're done with eachother. If the sun comes up and I'm not torn to pieces, I'm gonna consider this night a failure." He opened the jar and got the toast out of the toaster oven. While he was spreading the jam Michelle laid herself across the comforter and stuck her legs straight up, stretched, and then started slowly kicking her tiny feet through the air.
"Is that so? What if one of us wants to sleep?"
"I made coffee, remember?" Luke answered and took a bite of toast, "what time is it, midnight? I'm not tired. You don't look tired...wow you don't seem tired at all really...trust me, we ain't sleepin' tonight." He sauntered over and sat next to her, his back to the suede couch, and watched her toned legs go up and down.
"So what all are we going to do on this big night you apprently spent a whole five minutes planning?" she asked. She'd been with him long enough to know he liked being teased a little.
"Well uh...you could always shower me in hot wax again. That was pretty fuckin' awesome."
"Okay then, but what are you going to do with all this?" Michelle sat up with her shoulders back and looked Luke in the eyes, then casually ran her fingers down her dainty breasts and full hips.
"Whatever all that can handle my dear. You know I'll do anything just as long as you uh..." Michelle sat down between his legs and placed her feet on the edge of the couch behind his head
"You always want me to do ass-stuff. I don't understand why. I think you're secretly gay." Luke finished his last bite.
"Just because I like having my ass smacked every once in a while?"
"Just smacked and just every once in a while?"
"Ok fair enough then. You want me to prove that I'm not gay right now? Because i would, but I just ate a piece of toast and. . ."
"Oh, shut up!"
I'm gonna stop there for now....
"Well, I dunno about you, but I think I'm gonna make me some toast with jam."
"What? Really?"
"Yeah," they both sat up and Luke stepped into the kitchen, about five feet away in their small apartment, and turned the light on, "I feel like some toast with jam. We've got all night and we've had all day, I want a snack."
He grabbed a piece of wheat bread and stuck it in the toaster oven, then started rubbing his greasy arms. He was a pre-op transman, but still felt completely comfortable being naked in front of Michelle, and it showed in the way he moved. He did everything in the same soft, yet firm way, clothed or un-clothed. Michelle leaned back and watched every line and curve.
"All night? You mean it? really?" she replied in a childish voice, then smirked at him.
"Oh, like I've never gone all night before. Yes of course, that's the whole point of this. And by dawn," he began searching through the fridge for the jam, "you and I are gonna be rightfully fucked. I mean rightfully fucked"
"Well aren't you a romantic bastard."
"You know it. Anyway," he grabbed the strawberry jam and closed the fridge, "what I mean by rightfully fucked, I mean. . .like neither of us are doing shit tomorrow. Just ain't gonna happen. Everything from the waist down is gonna be shot to hell for at least a day after we're done with eachother. If the sun comes up and I'm not torn to pieces, I'm gonna consider this night a failure." He opened the jar and got the toast out of the toaster oven. While he was spreading the jam Michelle laid herself across the comforter and stuck her legs straight up, stretched, and then started slowly kicking her tiny feet through the air.
"Is that so? What if one of us wants to sleep?"
"I made coffee, remember?" Luke answered and took a bite of toast, "what time is it, midnight? I'm not tired. You don't look tired...wow you don't seem tired at all really...trust me, we ain't sleepin' tonight." He sauntered over and sat next to her, his back to the suede couch, and watched her toned legs go up and down.
"So what all are we going to do on this big night you apprently spent a whole five minutes planning?" she asked. She'd been with him long enough to know he liked being teased a little.
"Well uh...you could always shower me in hot wax again. That was pretty fuckin' awesome."
"Okay then, but what are you going to do with all this?" Michelle sat up with her shoulders back and looked Luke in the eyes, then casually ran her fingers down her dainty breasts and full hips.
"Whatever all that can handle my dear. You know I'll do anything just as long as you uh..." Michelle sat down between his legs and placed her feet on the edge of the couch behind his head
"You always want me to do ass-stuff. I don't understand why. I think you're secretly gay." Luke finished his last bite.
"Just because I like having my ass smacked every once in a while?"
"Just smacked and just every once in a while?"
"Ok fair enough then. You want me to prove that I'm not gay right now? Because i would, but I just ate a piece of toast and. . ."
"Oh, shut up!"
I'm gonna stop there for now....
Friday, June 17, 2011
New blog and a poem
I'm going to put my book on a different blog: www.jesse-childe.blogspot.com
here's a poem I just finished
"Child of Light"
Stormy sea and summer’s come
on wings of life, gave birth to the young
satin shore, tide is high,
tide is high, I heard you cry,
“Run to me, child of light
save your breath, save your mind,
run to me, child of light”
Rhelms undone and rehelms unearthed
entwined with rain and visions you cursed
on that day we were alive
so alive, I heard you cry,
“Run to me, child of light
save your breath, save your mind
run to me, child of light”
The rose was burning as I stood
before the sun, like we knew I would
I saw you turn, I saw me fly
you saw me fall, I heard you cry
“Run to me, child of light
save your breath, save your mind,
run to me, child of light”
Veins of heat and electric desire
cracked the heavens like crossed wires
with beating heart and naked spine
I drifted under then rose to the sky
on wings of life created by the swollen tide
by the swollen tide you watched me dive
from the hands of thunder I heard you cry,
“Run to me, child of light
save your breath, save your mind
the dream you have is no dream of mine
Run to me
Run to me....
here's a poem I just finished
"Child of Light"
Stormy sea and summer’s come
on wings of life, gave birth to the young
satin shore, tide is high,
tide is high, I heard you cry,
“Run to me, child of light
save your breath, save your mind,
run to me, child of light”
Rhelms undone and rehelms unearthed
entwined with rain and visions you cursed
on that day we were alive
so alive, I heard you cry,
“Run to me, child of light
save your breath, save your mind
run to me, child of light”
The rose was burning as I stood
before the sun, like we knew I would
I saw you turn, I saw me fly
you saw me fall, I heard you cry
“Run to me, child of light
save your breath, save your mind,
run to me, child of light”
Veins of heat and electric desire
cracked the heavens like crossed wires
with beating heart and naked spine
I drifted under then rose to the sky
on wings of life created by the swollen tide
by the swollen tide you watched me dive
from the hands of thunder I heard you cry,
“Run to me, child of light
save your breath, save your mind
the dream you have is no dream of mine
Run to me
Run to me....
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
I'm writing a book.
No title yet because I'm bad at titles. It's much more traditional than the fiction I usually write. Anyway, this is what I got so far.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I want it out. As in, I don’t want anything left there.”
“This is a permanent operation. it’s not like I can stick it back in if you change your. . .”
“I know that’s the whole point! Just rip the damn thing outta me!”
“Okay. Just making sure you realize what you’re doing.”
Danny laid his head back down on the Egyptian (or Indian, no one really knew) rug covering the warm damp earth and stared at the flawless seams of the tent. Marla sighed, tied up her auburn and gray hair, and started rummaging through her deerskin bag. It was after midnight and the cicadas were droning outside and the fireflies were floating through the humid Shawtowne air. Inside the tent Danny lied across the rug with his jaw clenched, surrounded by candles, bracelets, pictures, powders, small esoteric tools. . .he didn’t even bother to take a good look at any of them. Marla paused and looked down at the young man in front of her; his sunken cheeks were exaggerated by the candle lights and his eyes were watery. He was thin, pale, and his limbs were visibly vibrating. Marla reached in her bag, pulled out a small empty glass vile, and frowned.
“I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to be awake the whole time,” she said as she placed the vial back in her bag. Danny lifted his head and grimaced.
“What? Can’t you do some sort of spell or something? I mean, that’s what I came here for.”
“It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just perform a spell on my own, I need things. And what I need is not available right now. If you swallow a piece of this bark I have,” she reached in her bag, pulled out what looked like a twisted piece of wood, and broke off the end of it,”it will dull the pain some. But nothing I have can completely get rid of it. Do you still want to do this?”
Danny sat up, snatched the root, and stuck it in his mouth. It tasted like licorice and left his throat, chest, and stomach feeling fuzzy after he swallowed it. Marla pulled a knife from her belt and asked him to take his vest and shirt off. He felt a sudden jolt and saw a very brief flash of harsh light, but ignored it and complied. He sat there half naked, gradually breathing heavier as the thing he came here for became more and more tangible. He saw the orange glow of the candle flame against the cool knife and suddenly felt paralyzed.
“So, may I ask why you want this?”
Suddenly Danny snapped back into himself and flatly answered, “No.”
“Do you think maybe you should. . .”
“Listen lady, you got my thirty pons, now do your fucking job! I’m not here to make friends with you or tell my life story. I just want the damn thing out.”
“Fine then. Just lie back down and. . .um. . .here,” she grabbed a stick from the ground behind her, “bite down on this.”
Danny held the wood between his teeth but couldn’t understand why. The only feeling he had was in his fingertips; the rest of his body was numb and warm. He watched Marla inch her way next to him and take a deep breath. She placed her hand on the center of his chest and left it there for a moment with her eyes closed, then her eyes shot wide open. He tried not to think about what was happening and instead focused on the relief he was sure this would bring. No more. Done. Finally. That’s all I want.
Marla slid her hand from his chest to his shoulder, then gingerly ran the tip of the knife up, down, and across, about a centimeter above his bare wiry chest. She sat back, then straddled him. She raised the knife, bit her lip, then brought it down with a sordid crack and Danny saw the same flash again, followed by an obnoxious tearing and grinding sound. Everything was vibrating and the tent was shaking as Danny bit down on the twig until it broke and let out a scream before everything went black.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I want it out. As in, I don’t want anything left there.”
“This is a permanent operation. it’s not like I can stick it back in if you change your. . .”
“I know that’s the whole point! Just rip the damn thing outta me!”
“Okay. Just making sure you realize what you’re doing.”
Danny laid his head back down on the Egyptian (or Indian, no one really knew) rug covering the warm damp earth and stared at the flawless seams of the tent. Marla sighed, tied up her auburn and gray hair, and started rummaging through her deerskin bag. It was after midnight and the cicadas were droning outside and the fireflies were floating through the humid Shawtowne air. Inside the tent Danny lied across the rug with his jaw clenched, surrounded by candles, bracelets, pictures, powders, small esoteric tools. . .he didn’t even bother to take a good look at any of them. Marla paused and looked down at the young man in front of her; his sunken cheeks were exaggerated by the candle lights and his eyes were watery. He was thin, pale, and his limbs were visibly vibrating. Marla reached in her bag, pulled out a small empty glass vile, and frowned.
“I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to be awake the whole time,” she said as she placed the vial back in her bag. Danny lifted his head and grimaced.
“What? Can’t you do some sort of spell or something? I mean, that’s what I came here for.”
“It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just perform a spell on my own, I need things. And what I need is not available right now. If you swallow a piece of this bark I have,” she reached in her bag, pulled out what looked like a twisted piece of wood, and broke off the end of it,”it will dull the pain some. But nothing I have can completely get rid of it. Do you still want to do this?”
Danny sat up, snatched the root, and stuck it in his mouth. It tasted like licorice and left his throat, chest, and stomach feeling fuzzy after he swallowed it. Marla pulled a knife from her belt and asked him to take his vest and shirt off. He felt a sudden jolt and saw a very brief flash of harsh light, but ignored it and complied. He sat there half naked, gradually breathing heavier as the thing he came here for became more and more tangible. He saw the orange glow of the candle flame against the cool knife and suddenly felt paralyzed.
“So, may I ask why you want this?”
Suddenly Danny snapped back into himself and flatly answered, “No.”
“Do you think maybe you should. . .”
“Listen lady, you got my thirty pons, now do your fucking job! I’m not here to make friends with you or tell my life story. I just want the damn thing out.”
“Fine then. Just lie back down and. . .um. . .here,” she grabbed a stick from the ground behind her, “bite down on this.”
Danny held the wood between his teeth but couldn’t understand why. The only feeling he had was in his fingertips; the rest of his body was numb and warm. He watched Marla inch her way next to him and take a deep breath. She placed her hand on the center of his chest and left it there for a moment with her eyes closed, then her eyes shot wide open. He tried not to think about what was happening and instead focused on the relief he was sure this would bring. No more. Done. Finally. That’s all I want.
Marla slid her hand from his chest to his shoulder, then gingerly ran the tip of the knife up, down, and across, about a centimeter above his bare wiry chest. She sat back, then straddled him. She raised the knife, bit her lip, then brought it down with a sordid crack and Danny saw the same flash again, followed by an obnoxious tearing and grinding sound. Everything was vibrating and the tent was shaking as Danny bit down on the twig until it broke and let out a scream before everything went black.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Vacation. Damnit.
I need one and I'm getting one. My sister, my grandparents, my uncle, and I are going to Destin for a week. I know it's not exactly a "cool" place and it's touristy and I'm with my conservative squeaky-clean grandparents, but I'm looking forward to it. It's a cahnce to get away from my dad and stepmom's craziness (which is the reason why my grandparents are doing this for us) and just swim in the ocean and play music with my sister. We started working on some of my songs a week ago, but then she went off to a church thing and I've missed it a lot.
My sister and I used to never be able to play together because we fought too much. We're really two really different people and very different musicians. She's incredibly talented and very thourough and knows more about theory than I probably ever will. I just wanna play a few chords with some blues riffs and whine out some Dylan or Springsteen-inspired lyrics. But the songs I wrote in Boulder seem to mesh pretty well with what Julie does and I'm just thrilled to be playing with someone. All I have to do is play what I want and then give her time alone to work out what she wants to do (which means a lot of coffee breaks for me) and then we get togther 20 minutes later. The only issue is that she has the attention span of a moth and I'd rather focus on the same thing until it's done, but I'm not gonna push anything and ruin this fragile dynamic we got going now.
So now we're gonna do this by the beach. All the people in Tuscaloosa that have been treating us like garbage can kiss our ass because we can make something they can't and never will.
My sister and I used to never be able to play together because we fought too much. We're really two really different people and very different musicians. She's incredibly talented and very thourough and knows more about theory than I probably ever will. I just wanna play a few chords with some blues riffs and whine out some Dylan or Springsteen-inspired lyrics. But the songs I wrote in Boulder seem to mesh pretty well with what Julie does and I'm just thrilled to be playing with someone. All I have to do is play what I want and then give her time alone to work out what she wants to do (which means a lot of coffee breaks for me) and then we get togther 20 minutes later. The only issue is that she has the attention span of a moth and I'd rather focus on the same thing until it's done, but I'm not gonna push anything and ruin this fragile dynamic we got going now.
So now we're gonna do this by the beach. All the people in Tuscaloosa that have been treating us like garbage can kiss our ass because we can make something they can't and never will.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Well then....
My mom just found out she got the job in Baltimore. She can't afford to move my sister and I and all our stuff moved there, so my sister and I will either stay here by ourselves or stay at our grandparents' house, depending on how long it will take for my mom to save up enough money.
I hope to God this works out. Alabama hasn't been kind to any of us. Seriously, there's nothing for us here. We just keep getting kicked around like rag dolls here. So I get to go to Baltimore, then back to lovely Boulder to start my sophomore year.
I may never have to come back to Alabama again. That would be awesome...coming back to Alabama only if I want to, not because I have to. Which may be never. If I do i wanna wait a few years, maybe 20. I also want to take the opportunity to express how glad and thankful I am to have gotten out of Alabama (for the most part) when I did. I'm very lucky Naropa accepted me and my mom always encouraged me to do what I want and GET OUT OF THIS DAMN PLACE, as she always put it. I'm also glad I went to college single; I've seen what happens to high school sweethearts when they go off to college (usually. Not everyone breaks up, I'm just pretty sure that's what would happen to me). Plus there's all the fun that comes with being single in college, and a liberal one at that. . .
Anyway, feelin pretty fine right now.
I hope to God this works out. Alabama hasn't been kind to any of us. Seriously, there's nothing for us here. We just keep getting kicked around like rag dolls here. So I get to go to Baltimore, then back to lovely Boulder to start my sophomore year.
I may never have to come back to Alabama again. That would be awesome...coming back to Alabama only if I want to, not because I have to. Which may be never. If I do i wanna wait a few years, maybe 20. I also want to take the opportunity to express how glad and thankful I am to have gotten out of Alabama (for the most part) when I did. I'm very lucky Naropa accepted me and my mom always encouraged me to do what I want and GET OUT OF THIS DAMN PLACE, as she always put it. I'm also glad I went to college single; I've seen what happens to high school sweethearts when they go off to college (usually. Not everyone breaks up, I'm just pretty sure that's what would happen to me). Plus there's all the fun that comes with being single in college, and a liberal one at that. . .
Anyway, feelin pretty fine right now.
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