Make the burning stop.....

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Missing

I'm amazed at how little time it takes for someone to become entwined in my life. This someone especially. We started dating in January and things rather quickly became intense, comfortable and exciting. And not long after, confused, conflicted and argumentative.

It was as if in an instant - one conversation changed the course of everything and all the fun, all the connection - just disappeared. And then I made my signature mistake and kept waiting for the situation to improve. I abandoned needs/desires for a comfortable place wherein desire is fulfilled... but the heart remains empty. Or the longing of a one sided relationship becomes unbearable.

I'm amazed at how far ahead of myself I got. I find myself disappointed that he won't meet my sisters and my brother, that he won't be coming to my friend's wedding with me, that he won't see where I grew up..... And all the things I wanted to share with him about my life up to now.

Part of the problem is that I continue to focus on what was good, what worked... instead of looking more closely at the things that were inherently different.

Sometimes I have to be angry - it's easier than sadness. I get exhausted sometimes with my ability to wallow in my own feelings of rejection and isolation.

But I'm off to Pittsburgh to spend the weekend with mi familia - all three siblings and their spawn....
It's comforting to be with the people that know me best and love me most.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Two In a Series.....

Lake Queensbridge has disappeared!
All that remains a dried pool of blood
the size of a Skoal tin
Baked into the concrete.

Shards of a "Game" cd
forgotten and trampled next to it.

Her banks swollen with ragged remnants
Of people's lives.
torn, green leather couch,
pink plastic babydoll stroller,
particle board desks in 2 and 3 pieces.

A box of photos and papers
creating a tornado
with every burst of wind.

I always walked around it.
annoyed...
inconvenienced...

So I find myself surprised
to realize
how much I miss it...

One In a Series of Neighborhood Poems

The waters of Lake Queensbridge have frozen over.
A Drumstick wrapper stuck to the icicle-laden side of its banks,
The only reminder that summer once was…..

Her surface is an inky blue black
minus the silvery slivers of doily-like crystals at her edges
My reflection looks more like the neighborhood when I peer into it.

I watch it change through the seasons,
it's banks receding,
its cool waters drying up in the New York City sun –
an oppressive human scented heaviness of heat.

Leaving only the muddled remnant of the season past.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Forgiveness

It would seem that I have a lot of anger. If I look at it from an obvious stand point there are old hurts - my father leaving when I was 7 and the lack of any real relationship with him until I was 24. That was right after my mother was diagnosed with Alzhiemer's disease. She was 49. I took care of her for 4 years which raised a lot of regret and resentment within my family. And there was a relationship I had in the past that has most likely been romanticized far beyond reality but that I miss. intensely, at times... He went off to pursue his rock and roll dreams but I don't begrudge that. It was coming back into my life and thinking he could so easily pick up where he left off.

Though I think the person I'm most angry at is me. I allow people into my life who don't honor me. I accept those who are only able for one reason or another to give me a small corner of their heart while I desperately try to get them to accept all of mine. Therapy suggests I am trying to recreate the circumstances of my father's departure and feelings of abandonment - seeking an ending where I am accepted and valued.

How did I become so willing to accept whatever little bit someone is willing to throw my way? It's as if I'm in a bet with myself all the time to see if I can make someone love me, without ever fully considering whether or not they're actually worthy of my love.

How does one find forgiveness and release of these angers? They seem so abstract and even after dissection so incapable of being eradicated. It's as if they're so far embedded in my psyche that I wouldn't recognize myself without them. Fear of being left, rejection, anger, powerlessness... all parts of ab. i almost wish my anger was as external as it used to be. it could be offputting but at the same time, it least there was a release of some kind.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

witness to my living will

I, AB Carney, being of sound mind and body, do not wish to be kept alive indefinitely by artificial means. Under no circumstances should my fate be put in the hands of peckerwood politicians who couldn't pass ninth-grade biology if their lives depended on it. If a reasonable amount of time passes and I fail to sit up and ask for a cold beer, it should be presumed that I won't ever get better. When such a determination is reached, I hereby instruct my spouse, children and attending physicians to pull the plug, reel in the tubes and call it a day.

Under no circumstances shall the members of the Legislature enact a special law to keep me on life-support machinery. It is my wish that these boneheads mind their own damn business, and pay attention insteadto the health, education and future of the millions of Americans who aren't in a permanent coma. Under no circumstances shall any politicians butt into this case. I don't care how many fundamentalist votes they're trying to scrounge for their run for the presidency in 2008, it is my wish that they play politics with someone else's life and leave me alone to die in peace.

I couldn't care less if a hundred religious zealots send e-mails to legislators in which they pretend to care about me. I don't know these people, and I certainly haven't authorized them to preach and crusade on my behalf. They should mind their own business, too. If any of my family goes against my wishes and turns my case into a political cause, I hereby promise to come back from the grave and make his or her existence a living hell.

Signed,
AB Carney
copied from an anonymous email sent by a witty friend...

Saturday, April 09, 2005

Room for rent

Saturday morning and another open house. I moved into my place with Dan and Aaron in 2002 and three years and three roommates later...Here we go again. This buildng is filled with revolving rooms.
I love my little industrial shit hole. It has class and yet, still resembles a college apartment struggling not to be overtken by Ikea, Craig's List rejects or fresh paint.
My roommate Greg just painted my bathroom and I'm surprised just how much the blindingly yellow walls pick up my spirit. They also do wonders for the glare of the incredibly painful, flaw-inflating flourescent lights in there.
I've felt this place was transitory for the three years I've been here and yet I am the only one who remains. Aaron took off to torment someone else at three in the morning , drunk and professing a crush. Dan, to the streets of Miami Beach with his fake tan, fake muscles (if you're reading this, I found some of the steroids you had hidden in the fridge) and fake sense of "all natural" (Natural? But you're a big fan of X, GHB and the aforementioned anabolics as well as your girlfriend's plus size tits!!??!).
Since then I've also lived with a Pre-op transexual in denial, a single Dad with two year old in tow and thankfully, Young Gregory, as I call him. He's has been the only remotely normal, not completely dysfunctional person I've lived with in NYC. (We won't get into his Craig's List addiction - he's seeking treatment).
Since I felt transitory I never bothered to really make myself at home. Oh sure there are knick knacks, candles and photos but the only room you're ever likely to find me in, is mine. It's the only space in this world that's truly mine (Oh wait, I'm a renter). I eat, sleep, read, write, occasionally fornicate and cry all in this 10x11 space.
But it's time. It's time to move into my entire apartment. To come home and actually eat in the kitchen, to watch tv or read in the livingroom and to stay out of my room until it's time to sleep or I need a good cry. (sex in the kitchen would be nice too.)
In an effort to claim this space as my home... a trip to Home Depot is in order. I plan to add my before and after photos and share with anyone bored enough to peruse, the transformation of apartment into home... and symbolically the transformation of my fearful, transitory mind into one that is secure and settled enough to really create.

Wish me luck (and an increase on my credit line)

Potential projects include:
Draping the horrendous industrial lights/ceiling in the livingroom
Re-upholstering the couch sectional
Painting the lvingroom and kitchen
Sewing new pillow covers for pillow forms
Building one piece of unique furniture (most likely an end table)

Where are these people who said they were coming???