the smallest majority has been missing from united authority
hundreds of years
no women in class
no different brain to test
and then re-test
now women are studying math
science
are doctors
and lab rats
so what happens next?

my theory has never been
women are best
just a simple idea:
make society whole
an addition of the other 49 percent
to the 50, maybe 49.9 men
just trying to equal a hundred percent

feminism isn't about woman on top
"unbalancing of natural order"
instead it restores
steps further to
question
if the natural order has always been best

In fact many great minds agree
females and males once lived in somewhat separate societies
lying in the mud
picking off fleas
living fancy free as sumthin after ape and monkey

then males come ravishing and ravaging
take a crack at the history of sex
page after page
with women flat on their backs

in 2005 came a published study on the female g-spot
within
are
hyper surreal pulsing fleshy insides
nerves
a twitching
a tingling
women sit on a fount of sexual feeling
and only 25 of us regularly come?
while we're at it,
why is Cosmopolitan the only reputable source
with statistical information on this horrifying situation?
Just wondering what happens when women make 100 percent.

the deep flaw in forgotten history lessons
see thaw the balance

Separate spheres are what historians call it
”back then” women who lived whole lives without being recognized
for their contribution to society
life
wit
culture
language
heritage
all the pieces that fit

I could leave you to ponder what it would be like if women made 100 percent
instead I'll tell you more of what I spent years
studying
and study still since

it's not easy carving a path out of the male road
bringing the bone back
and suggesting i'm already whole

it's more than the bible that gets me going
creative evolution intelligently designed by men
with the evidence ever so thin

some demand answers from me
"how-dare-you-question-this-foundation-of-mine
science-is-without-god-we-see-the-world-as-it-is
don't you consider yourself well-read?"

I shake my head and chuckle thinking about this hundred percent

For I have studied the world
got in a boat called a book
spent many years traveling
lanes of time
worldwide
attempting in vain to have considered
every great moment of "man",

I've been to the Nile and seen Cleopatra
slightly retarded girl
too much inbreeding
chick was ugly dude
how was it that she captivated Caesars
strategically planned
got hitched to an empire
then screwed up for the wrong man?

Boudica rallying tribes in the cold

Sheba and her gold

in Vietnam,
Trung Trae and Trung Nhi
led 80,000 to rebellious victory, 40AD

Zabibi and her version of Arabian Nights

Candace on elephant holding Ethiopia tight
denying even Alexander the Great;
A line of women warrior queens
lasting 300 years
yet of her what have we heard?

Salaym Bint Malham fought with Muhammad
armor of swords and daggers
strapped round her pregnant belly
yes, this happened, really!

stead we study them that were forever victors in name
most times
we only hear of women losing battles
we hear the tales of their death rattle

Without a proper sense of context
how can you know the world's missing half it's head?
Isn't this the most dangerous stupidity

Women have the highest risk for heart disease
suppose it makes men feel better about our longevity
shouldn't it anger us all that it was only real recently figured
interactions with testosterone
keep female hearts from properly pumping?
.
Medical selves aside
there's also other wounds women take
day after day
a way we live our whole lives
in a wake:
the man on the corner
the delivery guy we accidentally let in
while searching for change to give him

just the men unknown
let's not forget that in 2004
the FBI said 50 percent!
of all women
will be domestically battered sometime in their lives
Laci Petersen and child float up from the mire
and men snatch life after life sometimes with a on-camera smile

C'mon you'll get it
we've got to get to 100 percent!

What this then mean?
GIRLS on football teams?
G.I. Jill fighting in combat?
President Clinton part deux?

Well, jeez haven't we already had Bush II?
Don't women prove themselves in battle again and again?
after they're trotted out like Lassie
"OH how brave to do something
no one knew you could
how brave of you to live"

let's do that all the time
LIVE!

I'll tell you a secret
though you can Google it easy
over the last 50 years the female birth rate's been rising
people are beginning to value a girl for a kid
also lower numbers of female infants dying

May sheer numbers soon = 100 %
INT – FAITH'S LIVING ROOM – NIGHT FAITH and MIKE sit watching ST: TNG when a man in a skirt is in the background of a scene.
MIKE Is that another girl in a mini-skirt? What the hell is up with the first season of this show? FAITH No it's another guy. MIKE Another guy in a skirt! FAITH Shouldn't men be able to wear skirts? Shouldn't women be able to go topless? MIKE (pause) Uh. I don't know. i guess I'm just a prude FAITH Don't you mean you conform? When someone says I'm not a prude, aren't they just saying I'm trying really Really hard to fit in? MIKE (looks away)
FOR THE WILD (2005) You and I are very alike may we always disagree we challenge the sky see? shifting upwards shaking fists and cussing we demand to know WHY THIS IS Wise it makes us, NEARLY BREAKS US Remaking fierce creatures into lil spicy sprinkles Let's salve the wound of the world! FIREWORKS AND HEATHEN CRIES, I'll keep telling you we're more alike than not –our words can be whistling darts– thru thickets of boorish brush, we reach those who've lost touch; grab hold of us others who were born without molds (or protective covers) 'CAUSE WE ARE MEANT TO!
THINK BACK TO THE BEGINNING OF THE IRAQ WAR…remember the countdown to war ads on tv or the literal time clock a few hours before the invasion began?
Remember when the bombs dropped?
The horror and the sound of crashing buildings?
“Where's Raed?”
No people came out of the buildings, did they all die?
Or were they gone? Did they leave their homes and "evacuate"?
If a country has the power and might to convince all to flee for safety, aren't the bombs then just for show?
Consistently they speak of avoiding human targets, and taking over a country…i.e. no hard feat for our military might and compassionate conservatism.

But they still bombed. And bombed. And bombed. It's all quite catching isn't? Bless you.
So what if I loved and lost in my head many times? It only has to happen once for real, before you never wish for it like that again.

2005-02-07 01:18:00 BACK ON DRY LAND I've been staying away from really writing in this thing, just because the news has been so big for so long and it's been a bit like, "huh, compact and put forth"? My skills at compacting are not the strongest, but I can spin a tale and tell a story, so if you'd like to sit back and read and hum along feel free to continue, if not, funny jokes and quirky comments next time…

There was a boy A very strange Enchanted boy They say he wandered Very far, very far Over land and sea Billie Holiday – Nature Boy So over the past few months I'd been feeling the burn, the candle was going in and out and all I could think of was MK. MK and I had met at a Bi conference the summer of '03 and had carried on a torrid and up and down roller coaster kind of affair. The peace and joy I felt were unmatched and unparalleled, to be able to rest, to be with someone, to hear heartbeats came with all that.

INT. FAITH’S APARTMENT – BEDROOM – NIGHT Cluttered, crappy, large bedroom filled with clothes, a computer, and television. Looks like it’s all just been unpacked. Faith and Jamil lie in bed holding each other, while Faith strokes Jamil’s hair. Jamil’s hair is long, past his ass and falls in golden waves down his naked back.
JAMIL How does this feel?
Slips a finger down her body and under the sheets and Faith arches her back slightly
FAITH It makes my heart beat.
Faith breathes heavily once and Jamil lies his head on her chest and listens.
JAMIL I can hear it.
Heartbeat sounds fill the room
JAMIL Are you happy? FAITH I almost am
Jamil runs hands thru his hair tugging past tangles as Faith shifts to find a better position.
JAMIL We could sleep like this. FAITH I can’t sleep with people in my bed.
When I met MK, he was JK, a guy unsure of sexuality and wearing odd skirts. I was of course totally insane in my own lovable ways. JK began transitioning to the female MK and things became a bit more complex.

MS. TRANNYSHAM IN HER WEDDING GOWN
I kissed him first before he was her Encouraged more, softly shoved open the door Fear that walked over, next floor?
I kissed him first On the lap of another Knowing my heart beat for triumph and in clutter
She kissed her on my lap Great giant jaws trap shut Fear that 3 is not just another number here
They fight outside my door Heart thumps to previous promise felt Fear that Sleight of hand, unwelcome card dealt
Our future long distance all the way? No quench to wanting, in and out of lovers still Fear that With you and always with 3 I’ll be
Hands loosen and then restrain Buttons of destruction and delete Fear that Maintains fear, confusion and deceit

In-between these complexities floated the understanding that I loved someone who could not love me back, perhaps because of the situation we were so unfortunate to be in, perhaps because that simply was not meant for us. So after trying to be friends for a wink, I asked for peace and release from being involved in something so overwhelming… Summer '04 and fall went and I carried on, moving thru deep waters of emotion and harsh feelings of isolation.
I began to write a lot of poetry about MK, most of it referencing the ocean. Admittedly because of my past traumas, I'm a bit emotionally retarded, and at times even disturbed. But you know that.
ESCUCHE. EL OCÉANO.
(LISTEN. THE OCEAN.)
THE OCEAN PASSES OVER ME
I know you cannot hear me
but I wish it
I beat like a drum
calling you, calling you
choke and cough
unthinkable choice
stop beating?
stop wanting?
STILL, IT PASSES OVER ME
the weight
was all I wanted
on top or bent over
the ocean, inside of me
what would I care
tap, faucet, sink, hand or handle?
our tears, salty and sticky
the weight, was what I wanted

THE OCEAN
it comes when I call
when its weight is all I need
its weight is
all for me
it laps and falls away
understands I’m just as closed in
gets that I've kinda broken off
knows it's only cold, cold, cold.
IS THAT THE DIFFERENCE?
perhaps, I’ll go
perhaps you'll stay
neither of us, the same
awake and asleep
I float you this gift
YES, IT REALLY IS FOR YOU
it's our ocean
and I’m waving from the bay

I couldn't get over MK, the odds of feeling the way I had seemed so remote to begin with, the future seemed ever more so. So I continued to write, hoping for some sense of relief.

FAITH
is it my fault that I believe
when you say
you don't follow my words
or love your hands around my waist
when you remind me
you don't care
or you didn't follow thru

is it my fault that I believe you

“you cared for me”
“you tried to be there for me”
too many quote marks to count
for something so intangible
I’m still insisting it doesn't exist.
I cried myself to sleep calling her name, I wanted and desired only her, I was far gone. For sooth, falling into others has happened before and way too often. I've often gone into relationships not exactly reveling in the dysfunction, but comfortable with it. Perhaps for a long time, I felt distinctly that there was no way in hell anyone would ever love me and stood in defiance, daring anyone to say different. Those that have visited this place of darkness will know what I mean, I'm rather sure I've seen some of you there from time to time. After having lived most of my life in service of others (oldest sibling of 6 in 2 very fucked up families helps with that) I have been certain of my utter unloveability.
When I met MK and hooked into her and her darkness, I saw parts of that there, but I also saw a light of hope. A light that looked back at me and said, "MAYBE", like a whisper into a stethoscope. For years after major emotional and physical abuse, I have not liked to be touched. Like really not liked it. So many of my friends never got hugs or felt the great wealth of emotional ability that got stuck behind the wheel of the "Faith's emotional disability" short bus. Parts of me were simply cut off, and weren't growing back. With MK I wanted to touch and be touched, I wanted to feel what I felt every minute of every day and year. And I couldn't get over it, I COULD NOT GET OVER IT, though I prayed mightily to everything I could think of. Even stuck in that quicksand, I kept on finding gifts. Poetry and writing picked up immensely and I began to recognize it for what it was, a probable life's work.
I was taking Oceanography in fall and with MK and I swimming fish, I wrote this piece
AND YOU WOULD BE Where I would be Our fates would wash over us Like an island without land A bridge we both could cross hand upon hand And I would see the sea with you And wonder why We are not asleep The view If only I could love myself as much As I desire you If I could feel for me The strength I have in you Where we would be I have not met I only hold sorrow Another me tomorrow
Right after I finished that poem, the 2004 tsunami hit. Like the next day. I have faith in many things, but not enough to think that I caused a tsunami or anything, just that there was a whole lot of dark energy going on…and I wanted out and over it. I emailed MK and told her everything I was feeling, the poetry went as well. I wanted her to know that I hadn't wanted to go, but that I had just wanted it all. I hoped that the letter would be the beginning of a new beginning or a final end.
I always wanted to say fuck it, let's graduate and run away and get a house and I'll be vegan, ok vegetarian without the vegetables (it could happen!), and you'll be the girl and I'll be a girl who sometimes very much likes to be the boy. You go to grad school and I'll build collectives, we'll barter for what we need and raise conscious children of unparalleled and precious light. So I did.

Happy (belated) Hormone Day! You should celebrate the date every year, I'm not sure of the proper cake, but I'm sure it can be vegan.

I am so happy for you, exceedingly joyful, a smile that clicks its heels. You deserve so many good things and I sincerely believe this piece of freedom, is further along that ever-altering road back to unaltered and whole.

In ten years let’s meet and be the people we want to be.

I wanted that. Idealistically imagined a positive future encounter, the usual faith fantasyland. And a month went by. I met new people, went on dates and embraced the scary future. And then things were things, shitty and good, but “things” felt like lies in waiting.

Sometimes Pisces-Pisces feels like two people without arms trying to hug.

On a precipice, I wrote. It felt good; saying things to the page and code, things that I wanted to say to you. But still I remained a bit vague, never addressing some real issues and realities. I finished working on this Christmas Day.

And you would be where I would be too

Our fates would wash over us
An island without land
A bridge we both could cross
Hand upon hand

I would see the sea with you
Wonder why
We are not asleep
The view

If only I could love myself as much
As I desire you

If only I could feel for me
The strength I have in you

Where we would be
I have not met
I hold sorrow
Another me tomorrow
~

There are a hundred different words, a hundred different ways to say this.
Ordered business cards with the opening lines of poem…250 no good business cards because people keep drawing parallels to the tsunami (may peace and kindness forever go to those in need right now).

I feel a disharmony, a distortion in the force if you will.

There was a whole lot of negative energy going on in 2004, undeniable that. Good things are just around the corner, and as well the bad. We may not be able to look them in the eye, but perhaps we can name them. I feel like spells are lifting as we lift them, and so I attempt.

FAITH’S FLAT OUT FUCKING TRUTHS SHE’S BEEN MEANING TO SAY TO YOU

(It’s hard for me to separate fact from the fiction, being an absolute liar myself. Bear with me if you’ve heard it before, perhaps I can tell you a deeper, realer truth this time.)

1.
You wanted Kian the night we first hooked up, tho he wasn’t into you. Kian and I had a fight earlier in the day and basically broken off our sex benefits situation. His decision, “attracted to men not women” he said. I hadn’t gotten any benefits, cum on breasts withstanding, but yet, I was pissed at him that night.

2.
I kissed you with “bitch, I am so better than you<Kian>” motivations. Tripped and fucking fell into something.

3.
In the morning I woke up in your arms happy. Not the normal conference hookup. We had fucked around, kissed but also conversed.

4.
When Kian told me that Daniel had told him that you had said you had hooked up with Kian (follow it, follow it, lol), I didn’t believe him. I wondered if you had just told the whole story, of the whole night, with Daniel himself deciding to fixate on the Kian portion of the story, but when you came to visit with Nick and Morgan, Nick told me that you had hooked up with Kian at the conference. I understood that it was a proto penis experience for yourself, never having done much with guys, but there was a darkness in the absence of my role and part in the play. So I was like, ok, I get it, I have no future with this person. So whatever feelings I have that are developing are wrong and should be stifled. So I stifled.

5.
I kept my distance from you emotionally. I kept myself at distance. I am at heart an extremely affectionate person and love to be “with” people, in that deep connected close friend kind of way. Unfortunately, the only consistent touching I got as a kid was the bad kind. I have yearned to fully break the bonds of 4 rapes, but how could that happen when “this” wasn’t for real?

6.
How could I trust someone to bring me pleasure, rather than a sense of accomplishment? How could I orgasm, how was it possible to feel the flutter and trust that sense of naked emotion and absolute vulnerability? I couldn’t. I felt like I couldn’t even speak it, the truths of my hurts. I did not trust you, perhaps you felt the same; I do not know.

7.
How could I be there for you in the right way? How could I tell you, that all I wanted to do was to curl up with you and breathe and whisper, intimacy not sex, and to kiss your lids when you cried out your pain and confusion and anger and pride and heartache and grief…that I would do anything to get you from sitting naked and cross legged on the floor? I was quite ok without “it” in me, it was the weight of you on top of me, the closeness of your skin alone I wanted.

I would say it and then
You would go and be gone forever, another casualty of deepest emotion. And so I hid and shifted and was not myself.

We, the walking wounded, the fierce and independent

I have wanted to say fuck it, let’s run away and get a house and I’ll be vegan, ok vegetarian without the vegetables (it could happen!), and you’ll be the girl and I’ll be a girl who sometimes very much likes to be the boy. You go to grad school and I’ll build collectives, we’ll barter for what we need and raise conscious children of unparalleled and precious light.

8.
Former soul mates, future friends?
I was so happy that you found a sense of possibilities in Portland, I was thrilled because I know how much it meant to you to FINALLY meet people who GOT you. To know that you may go into the field of education and be a healer to so many is overwhelming in positive harmony, and I believe you will be totally successful. Ironically or not, the knowledge that we would never align as long as my hopes and dreams lay in changing the mainstream via Hollywood thru Hollywood…it was THE reason I didn’t want to talk to you anymore. I had felt more than a future of AIM iconography. How could I transition from (never) lost love to friend? How to move forward when I could only trust that you would not be around? So I asked you to remove me from your life. Remarkable how easy it is to unFriend someone these days, eh?

…and then the earth opened up

I thought of you, in the midst of death and destruction. I hoped you were not blaming yourself or felt bad because of all the things that had happened betwixt us. I hoped that you saw the underneath of it all, that you knew of unrequited, impossible loves and the language of confusion that accompanies them. I hoped that you understood, that I didn’t blame you for any of it, that across the board we are even. I hoped to tell you I was walking with the fear that lied to me and kept my feelings lying. I hoped to tell you I am glad you are happy and will be happy. I hoped for a harmony.

Escuche. El Océano.
(Listen. The Ocean.)
the ocean passes over me.

I know you cannot hear me
but I wish it
I beat like a drum
calling you, calling you
choke and cough
unthinkable choice
stop beating?
stop wanting?

still, it passes over me.

the weight
was all I wanted
on top or bent over
the ocean, inside of me
what would I care
tap, faucet, sink, hand or handle?
our tears, salty and sticky
the weight, was what I wanted

the ocean.

it comes when I call
when it's weight is all I need
it's weight
all for me
it laps and falls away
understands I’m just as closed in
gets that i've kinda broken off
knows it's only cold, cold, cold.

is that the difference?

perhaps, I’ll go
perhaps you'll stay
neither of us, the same
awake and asleep
I float you this gift
Yes, it really IS for you
it's our ocean
and I’m waving from the bay

Buddy List
I kissed him first before he was her Encouraged more, softly shoved the door Fear that Walked over, next floor? I kissed her first On the lap of another Knowing my heart beat for triumph and in clutter She kissed her on my lap Great giant jaws trap shut Fear that 3 is not just another number here They fight outside my door Heart thumps to previous promise felt Fear that Sleight of hand, unwelcome card dealt Our future long distance all the way? No quench to wanting, in and out of lovers still Fear that With you and always with 3 I’ll be Hands loosen and then restrain Buttons of destruction and delete Fear that Maintains fear, confusion and deceit

FLUX^42

This rush of bloody sit down and breathe emotion
Salty, and running against the grains of 5 o’clock shadow
I try to properly smudge your eyeshadow
I remember, even the slightest of motion

That mix of all shook up and nipply emotion
Slowly, between cracks and out, the most Arcane.
High, Hot Heartbeat in my vein
Remember your hands, in strong motion?

My strongest emotion
In forward motion
Seems weaker, alone and afraid
Clings, a raft to the ocean

Be true to still emotion
Fuel, for fires, may they ever burn bright
Keep safe in all of night
Beware, for to look behind

The will to move on
In forward emotion

The will to move on
In forward motion

MK emailed me back and we started talking, about everything. About the depth of feeling, about the wanting, about the aloneness and how much we wished we could.

“THE UNDERSIDE OF SECRET POWERS”
Idealistic illusions: long deep rigged
and now rugged
keep it at bay;
I keep the fear away.

Fear creeps in
slight
and a little stout
yet in a flash
and a dash
it flits past
to already packed crevice its words do flee
Wedging in tight against my glee…

But even not-so private petals
find power on the undersides of wallflowers!

For fear cannot cower
it cautions, is of good use
it prevents quickened training wheels from coming too loose
Is and defrays the knots which tether us to and from space
a black light that defines, raises to surface
the only question of time
Will I be yours and you be mine?

The fear creeps away…
But I will find it again!

The distance between us, MK in SD and me in LA had always been a major foil for us, so I began to seriously consider moving to Boston with MK when we both finished school. I wanted it so much, I was so sick of being responsible, being the shoulder for friends and family, getting through and getting by without ever having mine. I wanted that to be over and it seemed like a perfect chance, but who could say if WE were for real or not?
* On a side note, this is the poem that insisted I start showing my poetry to others than N. N: "I was the ONLY ONE reading your poetry!, What's wrong with you? You should know better than to let me be the critic!"

03 January 2005 @ 05:40 am
MY HANDS KEEP WANDERING OFF TO DRUNK DIAL SOMEONE, only i'm not drunk…I wish I could draw some graphical representation of my emotions of pride, fear, pity and pathetic-ness. Perhaps a scale, up goes anger, up goes pride, up, up, up is the fear. Of course there's a good chance the other side is just as weighty. Pity and pissy-ness at not getting what I want, when I want. Selfishness, anger, uselessness. Agh, close the door, close the door. Closure of some kind, without it I feel a bit stuck…perhaps a non drunk email instead? Sleep on it, the voices in my head say, sleep and wonder not the next day.
So on Jan 14th, 2005 I took the bus to see MK, I was hopeful but not a complete idiot, what transpired next was something totally unexpected though suspected. We went for dinner that night and had Thai and I began to enjoy tofu, delicately fried. We spoke volumes and returned to MK's for more talkity-talk. We lay on the bed and spent much time memorizing each other's irises.
When we spoke it was poetry and neither of us minded that it took no trying, no need to check rhyming schemes, it just happened like so. We were happy to be with each other's intensity of intelligence and wit, finally the peace of belonging! The deep completeness and joy was so real, my life seemed to have shifted into Technicolor. From such great heights…everything looks small and defeat able but we and you and I and us still remain the same. The physical realities of what felt right did not agree with us that night and tho I was willing to step beyond most boundaries of gender and sex, I wondered how it would be in the future. Touching began to hurt again. We tried to find ways around all sorts of things and could not. In the end, sexually our connection was broken. It just didn't feel the same, and the doubts about what we really felt became clearer and clearer the next day. In our own separate states of confusion we began to withdraw, and a perfunctory kiss on MK's way out to buy groceries sealed the deal. When she came back she sat me down and told me, "I cannot love you the way I want to, it's not there right now" and part of me began to break inside. I sat with my back against the wall hoping for some support. I expected myself to spin out of control and freak out, I mean it felt that bad. But the way she looked at me…I didn't want to hurt her too. I felt like I had asked way too much of someone who just started hormones. Of a person who in general had been out of touch with how others feel on the inside. I wanted to be angry and I was, but how to express it without melting into a puddle?
My speech trailed off and I remained silent against the wall. I wanted to go home so I called my roommate to pick me up from the bus station in East LA at 2am. MK drove me to the bus and as we said goodbye and I opened the door, I couldn't go. I just couldn't do it again, I didn't want to leave in the same sad state we'd ended things before and hence remained. I wanted nothing more in the world then to hold her till it was alright, and even if I couldn't do that I just wanted to be there till daylight. So I stayed the night, and we watched Dr. Doolittle a childhood favorite for both of us as we sat on the bed in separate corners.
Kazu, MK's cat sat between us, stretching out in vain attempts to perhaps dissipate the distance in the room. The movie ended and I slept in her bed and she on the couch, and I just wanted to disappear into the threads of the cotton comforter. Just be gone forever.
We woke up and the air smelled like dried tears, an evaporated ocean. I got my stuff ready and sat down to the table for tea. I got some old dot matrix paper from MK and began to write this, The feeling of One on an inside winter's night May it suffice Blow warm air on frosted sight just in from cold Heat up the soul till it cracks from age and old The only thing said Nat King Cole To love and be loved in return But bold man Cole died of a broken heart Not a woman or a man, but a nation His own show's cancellation What is love without relief? The fickle art of all imaginations The deepest part of infatuation Will not suffice. One must seek A we who knows where the love will be We will touch and love won't cut us to pieces Shatter our lives and break our insides We'll learn that love is, always love Love whether it's on sale or be returned Our hearts will beat to what we want and as we are Strong and without remorse Traveling waves in grace and in sorrow All things in new tomorrow After I finished it, I told MK that I wished I had a bottle so I could throw it in the ocean. And of course MK had a bottle. So we went to the ocean. I let MK read the poem and she rolled it up for me, so it would fit in the bottle with the cork in. We walked to the pier and threw it in. MK dropped me off at the station and we hugged and I smelled her long hair and I came home. Once back I kinda drifted in and out of sadness and grief, even with great things like a license and a scholarship to get happy about. MK and I had agreed that we would try and be friends, and I dearly wanted that, but how could I get on with my life? Usually I prefer to cut people right out, heads out of photos, people out of life, it's easier that way. I cared so deeply for MK that I wanted us to find a way, but there wasn't one. She sent me a CD via the web and I listened and was comforted to know that the feeling of being known was not a lie,
We were talking more since we'd been over, and it was so easy. I wanted to call her friend, but I knew the lines blurred for me every time I closed my eyes. Every time we talked was a little bit harder for me,
DUMPED
My dead relationship came back to life last night For the third or so time It clawed through dirt and hoisted itself out, looked about And asked for directions to the nearest reservoir My dead relationship was thirsty see? Limbs rotted, pale and dusky hues Weighted light of all we wanted sheering thru Destroying doubts and dripping clods of fearful clout My dead relationship rose from the grave ready and able It tried to approach about the nearest train timetable It had me to see and discourse to commence Desired to caution, "careful with wash, light rinse" It fell to its knees last night, begged to please and hoped to love me I paused to admire its cold and beautifully bony façade I considered the death, indeed its last, last breath It asks in the name of all it was: LOVE THE UNDEAD and come to bed, it whispers. and come to bed. And I think of cold and future nights out at sea
(repeat trips) This poor dead body and me
I finished that and I knew I was ready, I knew that the only way I could go on was to say goodbye for now or however long it took. I sent MK both the poem we put in the ocean and the one above. We talked via aim and even though I'm sure tears were running down both our faces, we said goodbye. I'm not sure if I'll feel like giving my heart out again, right now it feels like the broken pieces have melted into each other and the hardest remaining parts are cutting into me. I think things will get better, and I'm glad I took the steps I needed. I'll always love MK in the secret spaces of my heart, and I will always appreciate her insight into me.
I want to continue to surround myself with good and positive emotionally growing people, just as much as I want to grow upwards myself. Each and everyone of us has the choice to make things better in our own lives, to pick our asses off the ground, to keep running, to keep truckin'. I'm gonna continue to use my powers and talents to help make the world better, but from now on I promise I won't forget myself.

Dear Faith, Thank you for your love. Thank you especially since I did not treat your love with the tenderness in which you gave it. I am awash with emotions at reading what you have written, to add to the intensity of the emotions of this week, and the emotions of yesterday, so please excuse me if I am not particularly eloquent. I do understand the language of unrequited, impossible love; and I agree that 2004 seemed full of negative interpersonal energy (at least for me, and I guess you too). I was overall, horrible at interacting with people in a good way this year. It is good to hear that you do not blame me for the pain between us, but I often do blame myself for the pain and isolation that I have caused myself and others. In truth: I did not think of you as just a random conference hookup at the beginning, I didn't have that language. In the long term (like after that first week) I haven't thought or talked about my interaction with Kian at all, it was meaningless. I have thought a great deal about my relationship with you, and I feel that it was wrong of me to hesitate before in calling it a relationship. I saw (possibly incorrectly) that my relationship with you fell into a pattern similar to my previous relationships, but that it was more condensed and more intense in a shorter period of time, but still painful. I even wrote up the seven stages of my relationships, which I think was a healthy exercise, enabling me to avoid such patterns again. Part of the scary truth of our relationship was how much I changed and grew during those few months, which you were an amazing positive force in, a magnificent part of. Following the advice of Lydia, as well as my own instincts on the matter, I used the solstice as a rebirth ritual for myself, to let go of that which I no longer needed. This helped me focus and realize what I no longer needed, and realize what I truly did need. I need those people who care about me. I have been so lonely these last six months. I live alone, just me and Kazu, and she has been far more unhappy than I with our living arrangement and has taken her displeasure out scatalogically, regularly, all over the apartment. My strengths in interpersonal relations have far from grown during this time, so it is so powerful that so many people who care about me have seen or contacted me in the last 24 hours. I wish I had poems to give you that would make you cry in recognition as yours have done for me. I wish I could caress the bruises on your soul as opposed to resting my head upon them. Love with you was scary and wonderful and intense (Oh my goddess! INTENSE!). I see now that you have loved me in the most beautiful and righteous of ways, you loved the person that I was, the person that I am, and the person that you know I will be. I cannot thank you enough for opening yourself up to me as you have. It is truthfully quite scary for me to have someone as complex and beautiful as you open up your heart to me, even again right now, at a time when I am just starting to open up my heart again. I was lonely, so I built walls and sheathes supposedly to protect myself, but they only succeeded in reflecting and containing my loneliness. I am now here again, I am here, I am real, I am awake, I am back. And I think I am able to allow myself to love again. I love you Faith. Those words I never said out loud, yet truly meant in midnight screams of passion and 2am cuddles in an unfamiliar city. There was an unspeakable comfort with you, in your arms. I never said it because I was scared. It was my weakness. My trouble in respecting myself, my feelings and those of others. I know the language of unrequited love, but the mirror was on my back, and I did not see it until it broke. I am once again unsure of how to proceed, with our geographically divergent paths (my top school is now Emerson College, in Boston with a Theatre Education for Social Change degree program). But I think I am ready now to respect you, and thank you properly for all that you have given me. You are an amazing and beautiful person. We didn't just click, we coalesced, and if we had lived in the same city, it's highly possible that I would have asked to move in with you, to use a queer woman paradigm that I yearn to fit into. Thank you for contacting me. Thank you for your love. Thank you for all that you have given me of yourself. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. I have missed you. Love, peace, life, and happiness, mila