I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.  From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig,  a wonderful future beckoned and winked.  One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out.  I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.  I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

My dad used to tuck me into bed.  Every night.  I loved it hed sing me Yellow Submarine or This diamond Ring and I’d get to stay up for a few minutes before he got back to work.

My dad was a Dewitt cop his whole life then got in a really bad car accident and had to sell encyclopedias door to door.  So he had to work all night in the garage fixing cars to make extra money.  So he’d take 20 mins to come in and sing and chat

.every single night – he’d ask who my favorite band was- I’d scream THE BEACH BOYS! and Hed laugh and ask me what else I loved.  I said Disney world, Oreos, and alphabets cereal.  Every night.  But every night I’d say how much I loved the beach boys and he’d sing “wouldn’t it be nice…” until I fell asleep.

One night he came in and asked again “what band would you rather see more than anything?!”

beach boys duh!

He’d bought me tickets to see them at the fair.  I think I was like six.  Makes me think of how many encyclopedias he had to sell to get the money but here’s how it went down.

Nose bleed section.  Huge grin on my face.  Mom shaking her head in disapproval because there were girls in bikinis on stage.  Nick was probably having an anxiety attack some where- but Armond I remember.  He had to ruin everything. Beach balls were being bounced around and I was so excited and wanted to pop one into the crowd and feel included. And Armond told me to stop and that I looked dumb.  So I sat quietly humming along until my mom made us leave.  I just couldnt believe they sounded so good.  They must get goosebumps when they harmonize.  That Christmas I got my very first compact disc player. – and one compact disc.

The beach boys greatest hits.

There were 28 songs on it. That I listened to front to back.  I had choreography to every song including:  ‘be true to your school’  that I did in my cheerleading outfit.

Every girl that came over I would play the beach boys for them and they’d just want to play ‘store’ instead.  I later found a friend in Florida.  Nicole, that felt the same way about them and shed talk about the goosebumps shed get when theyd sing.  She got it.

So here I am.  Awake. 20 years later.  Watching them perform on YouTube.  Wishing so bad I could go another concert. Bounce the beach balls, oogle at the girls in swimsuits, and get goosebumps all over again.

A drunken note from an awful night.

Followed by an angry text message in the morning telling me to delete the note off facebook.

Men shouldn’t treat women like disposable cups if they don’t expect consequences.

 

Buckingham Palace

 

There must be someway out of my mind.

Today was awful.

Awful awful awful.

I should have known by the way last night ended that it would carry on into today.  I left work at 3:15 am like a zombie.  I couldn’t form words out of the thoughts in my head.  I had so much to say you Gustavo.  I finally fell asleep at 5am only to wake up to the sound of a woman in my house.

Twelve pm.  Right on time.  My client was here.

Edward stormed into my room.

“your client is here.”

“what client?! What’s going on?! Who’s here!?”

“I forget her name… Lives in Fayetteville… Has a crazy mom?”

Fuck my life.

I ran down stairs and apologized up and down in my bathrobe and reindeer slippers.

Come back tomorrow,  I begged.  She agreed.

I wanted to die.

I put on jeans and made Edward drive me to Singers, id left some personal items there last night amongst the chaos. I was greeted by two employees . One of which was completely shocked at the site of me with no eyebrows.

“oh my God you look like….”

“the girl with the dragon tattoo, I know.”

“yess!! Ohmygah have you seen that movie?!”

“no, I saw the preview and the girls face scared me too much.”

I left and begged Edward to take me home so I could be alone and rest.  I had work at 6pm and had to shut my brain off for a few hours.

I fell in and out of sleep for what seemed like 5 minutes.  I felt depressed and anxious.  I wanted my Gerbil. I had no desire or energy to get dressed or make myself attractive.  I washed my face, drew on my cartoon eyebrows,  and threw on the same shirt I wore last night.  I put on my glasses and looked in the mirror.  My hair was greasy and stringy.  My face was white and oily, and my shirt smelled like cotton cAndy and jäger.

I looked at my body and stepped on the scale.  7 pounds gone in two weeks.  I needed to eat.  But nothing tasted good anymore.  All of my desires were dwindling.

My desires are not of my body.

My desires are Not. Of. My. Body.

I went to work .I’d never gotten so mangy compliments in my life.  You look so pretty!  I love your hair!  You should wear your glasses more often.

Baffling.

I bent over my phone and started getting lost in Amsterdam and stories of wet grass.  Only to be interrupted by a jarring image that i can never erase.

My desires are not of the body god damnit!

I just wanted today to end.  My eyes swelled up immediately And I forced myself to stare up at a light bulb above the bar so I wouldn’t cry.  I heard that helps.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

I’ve cried at every bar I’d ever worked at.  Always because of a man.  I hated that I let them get the best of me.  Most times I could brush it off.  But sometimes, on days like today, they win.  I had three hours left of work.  They would prove to be the three longest hours of my life.  I wanted so badly to be sinking into a booth at Denny’s.  Water no ice.  Truth or dare.  Ketchup bottles.

My gerbil wrapped around my shoulder.

I went home and forced myself to eat. I opened the cupboard and found a bag of treats.

I sat and ate three giant heart shaped cookies.  Chugged a bottle of water.  Done and done.

I washed my greasy faced, put on my stained Sweat pants, and my cool tshirt that I purchased from Raymond.

And while I’m on the topic, Raymond, never let the demons get the best of you. We are forever being tested.  And we will both end up on top.  Laughing together and eating veggie burgers.  I’m so lucky to have you as a best friend.

I finally settled into my couch, tucked into my fluffy robe and woobie

 

listening to my gerbil spin in his wheel.

I can’t remember the last time I slept that hard.  I mean naturally, without Ambien or other sleeping aids.  I was messing around on Reddit last night around 1230 am,  I saw a post about the most relaaaxxxing sooonnnng evvveerrr.  So I you tubed it and of course passed out as  promised.  I dreamed about a bunch of things I dont remember and woke up sideways on my bed, with my retainer on the other side of the room.  11am.  Not bad Marconi Union…not bad at all.  I drove down town (in the city some might say…) and had lunch at Namu with my brother and Leslie, the wooden doll who works there.  We ordered green tea and waaay too much food as always.  I drank two cups of the slimy, earthy tea, and ate 1/4 of the giant tray of food in front of me.  I beat my brother at a game of Scramble,  paid my bill, tipped my hat to the Wooden Boy, and was on my way.  I had big plans ahead of me.  BIG PLANS!  I went home really fast and got changed.

I put on my stupid stretchy black pants and my dirty sneakers.

I put on the ‘swelling’ bra that I left the hospital in, because it just was really cozy.

I put on a stupid stained wife beater and my favorite maroon hoodie that had bleach spots all over it.

I looked into the mirror and examined myself.  I never seemed to look any different.

It was weird because I feel like I never change.  My body always looks the same, my hair my face, but yet everytime I see a picture of myself, even if it was only a couple months ago, I don’t recognize the person looking back at me.  And I think- well thank God I don’t look like that anymore.  Pictures are weird anyways.  Until Bunny Enchilada/Pinocchio/Leslie came into my life, I had forgotten what an actual camera even looked like.  She always has it in her hands.  Everywhere.  I could be in a bathroom peeing and she’d somehow be in the trash can adjusting her lens.

Maybe she’s collecting our souls so that she one day can be a real boy…!

 

So I got on all of my hiking ‘equipment’ and was off on my wild adventure.

“Don’t die.”

These were the last words I had heard before I vanished into the cliffs.

Me gusta.

Gustavo

I live seconds away from clark’s so I was there in no time.  I tucked my key into my jacket pocket, put my head phones in and hid my wallet under the seat.  I trust none of you!

There was a man that was getting out of his car right before me.  Probably my age, tall, black hoodie, beard.  It’s whatever.  I figured I’d give him a couple minutes to get ahead of me because I hate when people hike right behind me.  But when I closed my car door and hit the lock button, he was gone.  He must have moved really really fast.  And then I was curious so I moved fast and into the woods.

He was no where.

Weird.

He was the white rabbit.

There was only one other car parked in the lot so I didn’t really expect to run into anyone.  So I put my ipod on really loud and took my time watching my step.  It was super muddy out and my dumb sneakers had no traction.  I should have worn my hiking boots my dad got me.  where ever they were.

They were probably still on my mangled body from that last time I went hiking alone and died.

The trail is super super rocky when you first walk in and I was still a little curious as to wear that guy vanished to so I was maybe moving a little bit faster than I should have been.

and I know this because within seconds of climbing down a giant muddy wall I was sliding and falling straight down to the ground.

 

This is how I die.

 

When I finally landed I was propped up on my forearms and my ass.

 

Well done, forearms.  You instinctively saved my delicate spinal cord.

I had that weird feeling from when you fall and your brain had been giggled a little too hard in your skull.  Kinda swimmy and dizzy, but completely alert.  I looked around again to see if I could maybe see the mysterious hiker.  I did, after all, just take a short cut through another dimension.

Nothing. Anywhere.

MotherTrucker.

I realized I was still laying on the ground like someone laying on a beach getting a tan.  Looking around for ‘hot bods’ or whatever the hell girls do when they lay on beaches.  I wouldn’t know.  I avoid beaches.  I burn.

I got up and for a second thought that I had cut open my arms where I slid.  But it just hurt.  Road rash.  My precious butt and legs were covered in dirt and leaves.  I spent a good two minutes trying to get it all off.  I gave up finally and looked at my hands.  They felt like they did in art class right after the teacher let you play with clay.  I liked it.  There was a thick film on them and I felt like if I needed to get any thing done, I could really do it.  Ya know like, hang onto a branch…or a rock or do a cool handstand.  Like Spiderman.  Or maybe the thick film on my hand just meant that I should just be more careful and try not to touch too many things before I got a chance to wash them with soap.

and water.

I continued hiking and remember thinking at one point how insanely dangerous this Cliff trail was.  One step or slip to my right and I’d be dead.  I took my time along this part.  Once I was on the flat trail I could finally relax and do what I’d come there to do.  I had told myself that in order to inspire myself to write that I would start listenting to music that I wouldn’t normally.  Or at least music that I used to listen to, and no longer did.  I thought of the last time I felt really free.  Really really free.  Like no job no care no anxieties kind of freedom.  That’s how I felt when I lived in Florida.  Even after I’d been jumped,  robbed, broken hearted, and lost everything I had, I still was un-jaded, and made every day a temple.  I lived with Nicole and we would drive around listening to the same Postal Service album on repeat.  It was the same album that we listened to when we both drove north, away from Florida, for days.  Windows down.  Arms straight out, cigarettes lit,  elated that we had both gotten to see what patchwork farms they were talking about in the music.

There was nothing to worry about then.  I was 19 years old.  There was nothing anyone could have said that would have discouraged me.  I had my entire life ahead of me.  I was 19 for God’s sake!

My future was anything but depressing.

Over the next few years I jumped back and forth from New York to Florida.  Making new friends, staying with old ones, falling in love.  Slipping out of it just as fast.

I craved the experience.  I lived for it- starved for it.  That was my adrenaline rush.

Getting off a plane in a strange city and walking with my suitcase to a diner on 9th and Main.  Getting on a Bus and having no idea what the fuck I was doing.  To this day I don’t know how a stupid bus works.

For real.  No clue.

Every.  Day.  Was a temple.

Every day my soap and water made me a new person.

Everyday was the best day of my life.  And that album never got boring.  And the patchwork farms never got blurry.  And I never once felt sorry for myself.  Every day was the first day of the rest of my life.

 

The music sounded just as good now, in my headphones, in the middle of no where, with no one around me and with mud on my hands.  After a while I just stopped walking and plopped down on a tree that was also resting on the path.  How was it this sunny out in February?   I squinted super hard up at the trees and i felt like i was in a movie.  The kind where someone is under the water, looking up to the sky, and seeing waves of sunshine roll over their face.

I sat there for what seemed like forever.  Riding the music like waves…letting the sun warm my head.

I got up when I noticed a giant man with a bright orange jacket on.

Serial killer.

Game on!

I pretended like he was going to murder me and I started jogging up the path.  it got super rocky and roots were starting to come up out of no where.

Jump!

Leap!

Run!

I was smiling so hard that even my teeth were starting to get cold.  I ran until I couldn’t  run anymore.  I looked back and the man was gone.

Success!

He probably thought I was insane and ran in the other direction.

I caught my breath and kept walking.  It got super muddy again and I followed the signs back towards the parking lot.  The sun stayed up the entire time for me and the music never got old.  When I got to the very end of the trail, there he was.

My white rabbit in his waist coat.

The man in the black hoodie.

He smiled and waved as he slowly walked by.  In the complete opposite direction from which he should have been coming.  There was really no way that he could have come back from the way he just did.  I was baffled, and smiled back.

Very Tricky, Rabbit.

I got to my car and headed home.  First thing I would do is wash my hands with soap and water.  Make them clean again.