The loss of invisibility

But the peace which comes my love

there is no lock on the door

And now you can shut out nothing

let alone the memory of

the war

Some kind of peace now

one hell of a peace now

All bruised and tattered and sore

as long as it hurts less than the no-peace

you were forever crashing through

before

Dream Journal, June 12, 2005

Last week I had a dream that I witnessed my family murder someone—my dad and my oldest brother grabbed some guy in a shopping mall and stabbed him in the stomach.  Because I was with them I had the idea that I was an accomplice so we took off for the mountains, where I was desperately trying to figure out how to get us out of trouble.  I was almost certain that I would go to prison (if only because I’d helped them escape), which scared me, but then I thought I deserved it.  I actually became sort of upset when later in the dream I got the idea that I wouldn't go to prison after all.

Anyway, in the mountains it no longer seemed like me but a movie I was watching.  The family looked and acted like a bunch of gross hillbillies.  At one point the girl propositioned her oldest brother, who eagerly took her up on the offer.  Then the younger brother, who was a big dumb brute, got violent with the older brother, who to save himself from being choked stabbed the younger brother in the neck.  Very yucky.  The only good part of it was that it somehow felt like the family wouldn't get away with what they’d done.

Doodles of the disturbed mind, Pt. 2

Behind the wall

I have a secret words

will never find,

images I tucked

away.

I once heard a voice.

It beckoned me,

singing,

tell me your secrets,

your hopes and fears

and jealousies.

I whispered back in the

safest voice I could

reveal,

my dreams mean nothing

to you.

Essay, When I Was Twelve, 1989 (excerpt)

After a couple of weeks, my mom started getting weekend passes  To me it was the greatest thing since God knows what, to actually get to see my mother at home.  She would come on Saturdays, go grocery shopping, and take me out for lunch. Then she'd make homemade soup for the week, and have dinner with me and Steve.  Joan and Dad were always conveniently gone when Mom was home.  I was glad - I didn't want them around to ruin it.  But then she'd always go back, and I'd be stuck with my dad again.

Lady Pourpre

Diary entry, April 15, 1981

It’s been bad for me because my mom and dad are getting divorced.  We did a school play yesterday.  We were the Spanish dancers.