Linked from “Bali Vows Blog” – read my journey here.
I told Matt to wear whatever he wanted to our ceremony. I wanted to marry the man, not the man I told to wear some matching cute outfits that fit the theme. I wanted to marry him, in what he wanted to be married in, and I wanted the same for me.
Family helped with the trip, but when it came time for me to find a dress I was on a shoe string… I had less than $100 budgeted and not knowing how much the next steps of surgery where going to cost, etc. I wanted to find something I loved, something that was me! I went to DTLA fashion district, where all the girls bragged about “discount dresses” even “Discount” wedding dresses are still $400-$500 at least.
The week before we left I still hadn’t found anything, I was walking through Nordstrom on the way to my car, and stopped just to dream at the clearance rack, and found exactly what I wanted! On sale for under $100. I tried it on and nice girl at the clearance rack help me with the dress and couple other less than awesome options. I heard two women in the next room ripping into one another about dresses, and this big wedding, then ripping into the nice lady who helped me, and the seamstress. I waited patiently to hop up on the fitting room stage to see my new wedding dress in its full glory, while listening to these women. $400 bridesmaid dress… a country club wedding… the limo…this dress should fit here, or there. We want a discount…we have bought thousands of dollars from Nordstroms… on and on, for seemingly no reason. Finally they left to make their purchase, I stood on the stage alone and wanted to cry, I was so happy to finally find something I could afford, it needed to be altered though… the alterations woman pinned me up quickly, and then gave me the bill for alterations, the rush fees, it was almost as much as the dress… I texted for possibly sewing help, and figured I would make it work.
I had the seamstress unpin me, and then went to check out. The women were STILL arguing on price, yelling at the extremely patient clerk, who did everything she possibly could for them. She got her manager to help and took me over to a new register quickly so she could help get me out of there. She said “what happened to the alterations?” I must have looked how I felt inside. “I can’t afford them today” I said. She looked at me and said “are you okay?” I smiled through trying not to cry and she says “rough day”. I had been dreading surgery all day, holding my mind away from this word cancer and surgery, and at that moment I was overwhelmed. “Rough few weeks, I just found out I have cancer and need surgery, and this is all I can afford”. I couldn’t help but cry and felt extremely embarrassed to be crying in the mall. She asked if I could wait a minute, and I sat in a high backed chair trying to compose myself. She came back with a seamstress and a manger. “We will make this work for you…” and she and her manager did. She pulled some Nordstrom magic and made my wedding dress into MY wedding dress to fit me in time for Bali. Not only did she make it work but she gave me a big hug on the way out.
The day I went to pick up my dress after alterations I received this note attached. That I hope EVERYONE will read, and that #Nordstrom will see and promote this woman for her amazing customer service. She is one in a million.
I wish my title mouth could give you a brief description of what my life story has to say.
I wish my bruised ego showed on the purples of my face and I could show you what’s behind my sleeping eyes…those dreams I’ve been plagued with like disease.
I wish you could take that away, I wish I could take them from you…
I wish my fate was written like it is in the palm of my hand, all faded and unreadable, so I remember not to rely on that kind of thing.
All I wanted was to paint the sky, the way it looks in your eyes, all the brilliance of blue and the sadness of grey, those hues I wish to only paint away.
I want to replace the devil with a sweeter embrace.
I want to hold the world against my heart again, with its stabbing sadness and bleeding sores and I don’t care if its love infects me to have a friend…
I’ll say goodbye, if it means I get to say hello to you again.
It’s not a somber thing to loose a thing you never stood to gain.
I see the light in your darkness, and the darkness is my friend so I reach for him too, only to be lost in that cold embrace.
They call me winter, they say I make the summer sun shone brighter but my pale skin hasn’t seen the world in days.
You say you like the way my capillaries play. They gleam because I have you under my skin.
I wish you could see the space behind my eyes, the synopsis that light my way, I wish I could use their embers to carry a torch into the symphony of passage ways I see when I look at you.
Days like this pass quickly, and I unfortunately am familiar with their somber song.
It goes like this:
Everyday is the same, driving down the steady lane
Until a stranger stops you in your tracks and uses their hands to use your heart
They usher you to far off places, regions unexplored by the bravest soul
So they don’t have to die alone.
What a selfish thing to do.
They dive in the shallow end, and we dive with them, as helpless fools,
we loose our hands to destroy our fall,
And there we end, two fools in shallow water, trying to breath the blood bath we’ve created
Life’s messy, and when I swallow the taste of iron and water it fills my soul, and allows me to sleep.
It’s just a melancholy dream. A macabre and distant play that haunts my dreams shadows my face.
A drowning and a dying I don’t care to erase.
This story about a lost letter from Neal Cassady to Jack Kerouac inspired me greatly today, was too good not to share here: The Lost Kerouac Letter:
“There are no unexplored paths in my mind and few that are not entangled in the weave of my misery mists. It is but gentle fog thru which I navigate and make friendly by constant intimate communion.” – Neal Cassady
I hear the static, the loud whooshing noise televisions use to make before they completely blocked out pay per view, before the advent of the DVR, a time when you could still make out faint faces and embraces on channels you were too young to be watching. In the hall there is a strange man with a fork and knife in hand he seems to be watching me. I can feel his eyes on me. I move myself towards him, the deep blue shag carpet feels crisp between my toes and I breathe in the hot heavy smell of old spice. “What are you waiting for?” he says in a low tone, the type of tone my father use to use when I picked up dangerous objects. “What do you want?” he says. I turn slowly and head towards him. “I wait for nothing, and want for nothing”
I brush past him and feel the tangs of the fork catch my exposed hip slightly. The hallway becomes longer. I lose my breathe and suddenly I am gracelessly pawing for the walls. Again he approaches “What are you waiting for?” he comes in so close to my ear I dare move my face for fear of being eye to eye. “What do you want?” he repeats. I close my eyes tightly and tell myself “this is a dream, this is not reality,this man is not real” I open them again and I can see his shadow, painted and outstretched on the long white walls of the hallway. Carpet has become hard slick checkerboard. I stand, and I breathe in the now cool air. I touch the painted shadow, fork and knife still in hand, and I say “I was waiting for you,and I was wanting to be devoured”
A Dream -Cherry Martini Entry 8/20/2012
Forgive this, forgive this truth in epic fear, transition in truth in sun dance peace. Where are you now sweet twisted truth. I am bitter in sadness. All I want is truth just give me some, give me this one peice of bread, our daily bread, where are you my jesus my savior or have you lost me in all this. I want and that is a word that decieves me, the difference between the want and the need. Where are you? Deception. Where are you? dead mass of wonder. Is this reality when all you can do is sin, meet where sin is not, and I can’t deny you. I say “I am not alone, we are not alone, we are not one in this strange madness” where has it all gone when we meet this sad state. You mistreat me with words and I am sainted in martyrdom. I hang my truth and madness on a cross and nail it to my heart. I see you there in the deep crimson sadness, and you drip truth, you drip it like humidity hanging on a window pane. I hear the drops tapping into my sorrow, and there is danger in this, there is danger in your truth because I dont live there, I live inside a mind that is frought with madness and you can’t live there. Please pull me out, bring your hand through the darkness and lead me out, or let me drag you with me. I want truth, ancient truth, unexplainable truth of which there can not be. Where have you gone? Please answer me through the darkness, out stretch the pain, see through it. Use your night eyes to bring me past this, please use your gray to see me past this black, for in darkness those are the only shades I see. Use your shades to bring me out into the dawn. I want dawn… but there in lies the trouble between dark and light, and the shades only blind me, so blind me now and let me never wake from this long and serene dream. For if I dream let it be where dreamers lie,and liars only know the truth.
Cherry Martini 5/22/2012
I’m writing you this story on the back of folded paper notes. Notes that came from childhood oragami scraps, tree pulp hearts and squinted swans thick with graphite. These words fall off the page from torn edges making every sentence an abbreviation of what my minds’ eye see’s. I want it to be better, I want to hold onto the things I’ve lost and am loosing everyday as I watch time slip away. I feel it all like a lump in my throat sometimes the ailment and lament of a time that slid silently through my fingers and was gone before I knew it. Everyday is slowly slipping into a memory and I can’t catch each one as carefully as I’d like. “I miss you,” I write, “I love you”, I draw the “U” into a smiley face and realize that I’m writing it to a man that is long long gone by the hands of God and taken up by the wind. I’m writing to myself, I’m jotting down letters to no one. I am desperately trying to find peace again, I am desperately trying to move myself back in time while being hurled forward into a predestined destitute uncertainty. We all stand together and alone, holding hands and shoving, pushing small daggers through the heart wondering when was the last time I’ve been there, when will it all happen again, who can I trust? When will this all stop and begin again? I’m waiting to wake up, and it’s not easy when your mind is fast asleep and you heart is tender.
So I fold this note again, tuck it deep behind a mirrored window that see’s the fold across the vastness as I stand between it and the rest of my days.
I don’t want to sip time slowly, I want to drink it down and swallow it with maniac spit and soul. I want to devour kindness and replace it with a turning hold, like carousel seatbelt love. I want to ride my white horse down to the river and drown it sometimes, for the simple act of being inhumane. I want to shock my spirit into raw existence. I want to tenderly meet you in the middle and hold your hand like I hold my breathe when I experience something beautiful.
Laugh or cry, its all the same to me, it’s an explosion created from a feeling that I have no control over.
I can hear my heart beating… everyday it jumps wildly from my chest and spills out my mouth, or through my hands and I heave dry words, that the masses obtain and make their own. My mind gets me in trouble, its writing checks right now that my ass has no interest in cashing.
I place my middle finger over my mouth in an effort to quiet myself but become consumed with the gesture and speak more on it’s crudeness than it’s thought.
Some mornings I break the birdsong out my window with screaming, I interrupt the beauty and I try to bring the day to a hault before it can begin, but it continues anyway. Keep turning great blue ball, keep hurling yourself through the infinite universe… well played my friend, well played.
Why don’t you just…. and you can’t you just… FEEL IT! Deep inside like a pulse driving hammer to your rind, it’s a mad and desperate attack on your beliefs. Do you hear the crackle of your un-ending reasoning coming to rest? Truth cares, truth reacts, truth stifles itself with dark tongues braided in the winding wind. Truth spirals and is lost in it’s own purity on the reprehensibly insane. Someone said “you are too far gone” I am just scratching the surface. Dignified I put on the rescued mask and hide the thoughts I dare not speak. I drink in too much thought, I put down too much passion on paper only for you too ball it up and keep it as a spare for your imagination to snack on when your drunk, or desperate. Are you there yet? ARE YOU THERE YET? where have you gone, a heartless recipe for the scars you’ve burdened on others and the smoke you’ve taken in on your own. Don’t choke, you are not too far gone. Your struggle is extraordinary, your hurt is unique, your pain is as real as your mind can make. Pain is pain, but suffer no more and focus on reality, shift your perception and you can change the world, if you can change your mind, you can start a fire and light the world ablaze. A soft, warm sultry glow that will illuminate till the end of time. It’s in your mind, you are your tyrant, you are your king, you overseer of your psyche, and no one can take away your rule.
If I could resolve to make words into actions and light their way with dull chromed headlights I would.
I would paint movements in the night, spasms of the heart, the sharp flailing motions, like those that jolt you from your sleep. My eyes shift and I open my lids, unpealing eyes of gold and green speckled with flecks of sorrow and polished with a sweet glaze. I dare slide the membrane back across them and be surrounded by darkness once again.
I am nothing more than an ordinary frame, thats lost its way in mean streets. Bruised and battered with the shaping hammers of time. What form have you made me into? What mishapen face has time given away to. I am a beast, a growling, howling, might, that forces it’s way through brush and thicket finding its pace in the unforgiving air.
Sleep, Sleep, sleep, force it upon you, force it to come, like some long widowed rape victim untouched by human hands in years. A confused enjoyment and an unsettled smile as hands creep and crawl beneath the layers or lace, past places long forgotten and last touched by only loving hands.
Where is he now?
Sleep, Sleep, and release the past, fall into only sweet dreams. Awake refreshed, renewed, awake as someone else and find yourself again, find yourself each morning and let the nightmares of past fall away, let them drape behind you like a long silk train. Give in to temptation, slide your arms around yourself. Become, and don’t stop becoming until you reach your finality and conclude in perfection, embracing imperfection, and letting out a loud and guttural laugh at the madness that brought you full circle and back again to life.