Are you done doing what you were doing?

 Are you done doing what you were doing?

No, I am not done.

There are songs to hear and words to write and figure out what the next step is.

And in working through that dilemma, I did a small dive into the past, ten, twenty years past. Of moments that I captured in a space that I forgot about. 

Just like the wild wind blows

nope, it's "just like the white-winged dove"

Whatever, Stevie. Oh, here's a song.

I found God
on the corner of First and Amistad
where the west
was all but won
all alone
smoking his last cigarette
he says, where you've been
he says, ask anything
where were you
when everything was falling apart
where all my days 
were spent by a telephone 
that never rang
all I needed was a call 
that never came
from the corner of First and Amistad 

Chorus:
lost and insecure
you found me, you found me
lying on the floor
surrounded, surrounded
why'd you have to wait
where were you, where were you
just a little late
you found me, you found me 

In the end
everyone ends up alone
losing her
the only one who's ever known
who I am, who I am not, and who I want to be

no way to know
how long she will be next to me 

Chorus:
lost and insecure
you found me, you found me
lying on the floor
surrounded, surrounded
why'd you have to wait
where were you, where were you
just a little late
you found me, you found me 

Early morning
city breaks
I've been calling
for years and years and years and years
and you never left me no messages
you never sent me no letters
you got some kind of nerve
takin' all I want 

Chorus:
lost and insecure
you found me, you found me
lying on the floor
surrounded, surrounded
why'd you have to wait
where were you, where were you
just a little late
you found me, you found me

The lyrics: I'm on vacation every single day because I love my occupation.

The reality - I'm on vacation every single day because I don't have the energy, capacity or wherewithal to even try right now.

every single day

there is a feeling

that this never ends

and it never began

we just landed

on this page

somewhere in the middle

try as I might

I cannot breathe

too deep

or laugh

from my belly

and the air is cold

on my skin

in the space

between you and me

are the ghosts

of songs and whispers

and lies

pushed down deep

with a swig of whiskey

every other day

could be just like

the vacations

we never took

and the days the sun set 

without our eyes

or our care

We never know

the beginning

or the end

we only have

years at a time

telling the story

of our rhymes

Where were you?

Indeed.

Where was I?

We'll never know

all the places

that could have been

as time passed by

Now, I'm done.

passing emotions inspired by song

"put me out of my fucking misery" - linkin park

She was pissed. She was always pissed. She walked into rooms looking like she'd had nails for dinner. And her mouth, she kept tightly closed lest the nails come shooting out like darts. There were a lot of reasons for the anger and the frustration, but it was generally the state of the world that kept her on edge.

"Turn off the television," her therapist advised. 

She laughed because the world wasn't the same as the therapist reminisced about. It was more than the television, it was the text messages, alerts, livestreams, Twitter feed, the satellite news, and every email laying out exactly what was happening in real time.  

Maybe if there was someone to love, to distract her on those long and lonely nights. But it had been years, and no one ever was invited to stay longer than a night. 

Her most sustained relationship had been with Rafa. She had thought they were friends, that perhaps, he was a mentor. Thirty-five years older than her, it never struck her as anything else until that one night when she had been moved to tears with anger and frustration at the hypocrites, the duplicitous party leaders, who posed and smiled with arms linked with each other ignoring the issues she had been working on. He ushered her out of the gathering, and they had stood outside her car until she could breathe normally again. 

"It seems like there is more going on than tonight," he said, probing.

She couldn't speak of all the reasons for the emotional outburst of anger, but a sad and overwhelming feeling of utter loneliness suddenly burst forth. With a heavy sigh, she told him about being in a room full of supposed friends and how he was the only friendly face. He had laughed and reminded her of a long-ago conversation. There are very few friends in this life, he had said. Most are acquaintances that are in our lives by circumstance and proximity. I only have a handful of friends, he had told her. It is wise to remember that when you're naming people in your life. 

"How will we ever make a difference if you can't count on anyone - friend or acquaintance?" she had asked him, counting on him to provide some sort of hope. 

They had been sitting in her car and he turned towards her in the driver's seat and joked with a smile, "Oh, you wanted to accomplish something with the Democratic party?"

She had laughed and thought, ok, here's a friend, and she shook off the last of the tears, allowing the anger to recede back into the low and constant simmer she could control. Just at that moment, when she could contemplate what the next steps she would take, what help she might need from him, he asked if she was feeling better.

With a nod and while she was still wondering her next question, he leaned towards her and asked if she needed a hug. The memory of the last time she and Jeremy were sitting in the car had flashed quickly and she thought, I could use a hug. 

Arms still wrapped around each other as much as the close quarters allowed, Rafa said, "I'm going to give you a kiss, ok?" And he kissed her forehead. She smiled at the fatherly gesture. And then his lips moved to her mouth and he kissed her lips. While she sat perfectly still at this development his hand moved to cup her breast. The loneliness, once again, overwhelmed her and she sighed. 

"I'm not comfortable with your hand there," she said and extracted herself from his embrace. 

That was the last time there had been any real conversation or knowingness before a kiss, and a hand or mouth on her breast. And even though she had allowed her body to be touched and loved on since then, she would remember that small betrayal as a reminder of why the men were acquaintances and she had no straight male friends. Jeremy was her last friend.

"the little things give you away" - linkin park

I have a question

Note -- this was sitting in my drafts -- for nearly 20 years. It was missing the question and I read it today and figured out what the question was. 

I have a question for you

the moment I wake up

I'm here everyday

in the same place

with the memory of your touch

on my pulse

and a whisper of your breath

on my lips

I have a question for you

that needs to be answered

in every way

that I can think of

how do you sleep without me?