January 6th, 2014

2013, cyd, new

instead of writing in here, i wrote a letter to my emailer

I didn't get to the tree . . . couldn't get out the door. it's a long story. grandma was in radiology during the afternoon/evening hours, so i couldn't go see her. i'm saying fuck the chances and going first thing this morning. i, finally, at four this morning, figured out what i'll say to her. i know they will be there, i just don't care. if i can get Doc to go in with me, i know dad will busy himself talking to him. i know mom doesn't like him because he had a really smart mouth with her. i could tell. they would have been interesting in a debate, i would have liked to have seen that.

after the hospital, if i can, if i'm not to freaked out behind it, i'm going to the tree. while i'm out and can't puss out.

tell me something: why, after all this time? just to quell your curiosity? what about you? i want to know about you. anything. all i remember is that you didn't like me at all, and i used to take you to dance class. i have exactly two pictures of you, one at a dance recital and one from the day you, mom and i picked up Kasey at the Stake Center in PA. and i think i found a picture of you in your football uniform on the web, but i can't remember well what you look like since the ECT. mom told me you played football. That you stopped. i think that was really all she ever told me of you. i read on the web that you got your Eagle Scout badge. You said in the interview you wanted to be a hairdresser. Kraig said mom told you to say that. that's it. that's all i know.

and here you know when i went to ethel m. so at one point you've been in my online journal. i kind of wish mom and dad read it. dad has feelings, it would hurt him.

they told me they hired a private detective to find Karlee. they didn't. i found her in 10 minutes by searching her name, the names mom gave you guys make you pretty easy to pick out of a list. she is happy. she is limited to a mechanized wheelchair. she had a fall while hiking at the Grand Canyon a few years ago and never got better. She is going to school to become an accountant and more, i'm not really clear on economic phraseology. she still has dreams of working for the Government, maybe the DoD. i never told her i've pretty much screwed her out of that one, as far as getting security clearance. the ubiquitous They don't have a file on Ken or Karen, but they damn sure have one on nutty old me. Maybe she can get a civil position that doesn't require the clearance. she's really working hard for this. she and Danny are happy. I don't think they ever got married. Like me, she has no aspirations to have children. You and Kraig are the only hope there for mom and dad to be grandparents.

i'll tell you a story about Kraig. the real reason i'm afraid of him. i get really angry. i used to get really angry at him. he would push me. he was just a kid, but he would rile me up. he knew just how to do it because we were so much alike and so close when he was little. so we would both get into our moods and BAM, shit would all go wrong. i used to beat on him. it is my second regret in life. well, my first of two. one night, mom and dad were gone as usual. they hadn't come home at the appointed time and i had missed a concert i had really wanted to go to with Jeff Rizzo (I don't know if you remember him, he was pretty much my only friend in high school that would come over to the house), and Kraig and i were going at it. he started swinging and i started swinging. keep in mind, he came up to my waist. i was wrong. wrong. wrong. wrong. i should have walked away. he was just a child. he didn't know what he was doing, and even if he did, that is no fucking excuse for what i did. i just kept hitting him. and he climbed up into the bunk bed and tried to hide from me, and i just kept hitting him. and then he stopped moving. he played dead. and it worked. it scared the shit out of me. i mean, it really fucked me up, i was convinced the kid was unconscious or dead. and i completely freaked out. i went into my room and stayed there until i had karlee put you guys to bed. i never touched Kraig again. and i've been terrified of him ever since.

whatever. for what it's worth. i have so few memories left. they're mostly bad.

do you write a lot of poetry? tell me about it. i really liked that piece you sent me. "eloquent" seems lacking. "gorgeous" seems trite. but i really liked it. (you'd never know i review about a dozen poems a day, i just don't run into many i like). ever go to a poetry reading? ten years ago they were dreary here, a few high points. now the talent pool has widened and there are some really good poets here in Vegas, our slam team wins and shit.

doc is going to try to get off work early to take me to see nana, hopefully to get there when visiting hours start, but before mom and dad. i hope she's okay, and doesn't need long term care, though if she did i would be happy to move to Oakland with her and be her caregiver. all i need is a BART pass and a shrink, and i could do it. eventually, doc could transfer to the hub in SFO and move in with me. for her sake, i hope she's okay. i've always wanted to move in with grandma. especially when papa was alive. i kept hoping mom and dad would send me to them. they did in the summers for a while. we used to take wild road trips. Papa would put brie in the trunk of the car as we drove through the desert and when it melted, he would crack it open over some tortilla chips and make brie nachos and we would drive down the road with him "bum-bum-bumming" to some song on the radio and munching on nachos while grandma pointed out the sights. everywhere they ever took me was beautiful. when grandma is sober, she's a beautiful person. but we're all of us, mom, grandma and me, mean, bad drunks. they can just handle their liquor better than me. i never learned moderation, i learned "puke in the garbage can at the end of the bar while buying another round". it was so punk rock. so i stuck with it.

okay, it's pre-dawn and i'm rambling. usually i write some long journal entry in the mornings. today i took it out on you. i don't even know if you have any interest in this shit.


so that's where the last hour has gone. something tells me i'm not done yet. after i get a smoke, a break from this song and a fresh cup of coffee, i will have more to write . . .


i got my clothes out that i'm going to wear to the hospital. just to visit. doc is taking me this morning. i can't just walk in in doc martens, jeans and a black flag tshirt, though that's what my parents will expect. if they aren't completely surprised that i show up.

i have to remember to take my meds. and maybe have a shot of vodka before i leave for the hospital. or, since i want to go to the tree afterward, i should fill the flask. if doc has to talk to my dad, he'll need it.

my strongest memory of my dad and doc together? here it is, and it might just sum up doc's not liking of him.

we had just moved into the new apartment in las vegas. our furniture wouldn't be there for a week, but you'd better believe i had the web cam on. we got this on cam. i was traipsing around in some cut off shirt and hiphuggers, since the cam was on and all. and doc and i were standing, facing my dad, and doc was talking to my dad and my dad was just standing there, gaping, and i mean Gaping, at my tits. finally, doc waved his hand in between my tits and my dad's eyes to get his attention.

and that's my doc and dad memory. then there was the parental tour of the southwestern national parks while all hell broke loose at home and they left a known crazy person in charge and were completely incommunicado. we had rangers putting up wanted signs . . . wait, i can find it, i journaled it. i'll link to it. it starts there. it's in a part of my journal that is "friend's protected" so if you can't see it and you do belong to lj, sign in and try again. and if you're not a member of lj, you will need to sign up and become my friend to see it. i'm going to go read it now. it took me an hour to find, i want to know what it says.
2013, cyd, new

okay, freaking out now

i haven't seen my nana in over 20 years. she is the head of our family, calls me her "Sweetheart" and my last surviving person older than my parents. okay. i'm dealing with that. getting dressed up. got it. boots, leggings and sweater, conservative beanie hat to cover my dark roots. i'm ready to go.

my fucking teeth don't fit anymore! i can only get them halfway into my mouth. they won't even touch the roof of my mouth! there is no way i can wear them! but if i don't, she will think that doc can't take care of me! what the fuck am i going to do? she's never met doc or seen a picture of him, my parents have no pictures of us, or me anymore. and i want her to love him.

i hope we get there before my parents. maybe they will go in and she will tell them i'm coming and they will leave. that would work.

i want a bagel. god i'm nervous.
2013, cyd, new

a good day nearly over

i finally saw my nana. after 25 years. she looked so small. she was doing really well. her words were a bit slurry, or blurry, as she said, when i called her in the morning, but by the time the visit was over, she was fine. and she had no face droop at all. she was concerned about that. we talked for almost two hours. i'm going back tomorrow. i told her there were easier ways to get her oldest granddaughter to come and see her. but apparently that's what it took for my parents to let me see her.

she's so Betty White. she has an incredible sense of humor and the brightest blue eyes you ever want to see. she talked about being too old, i told her she would rock the house for years to come. and she will.

she is eager to get home. she has decided to stay in town to have the surgery she needs. that will be thursday. from what doc says, she will feel like a whole new person once that is done and will want to go out and run a marathon. so she's staying in town for that, which is good because i really didn't like her getting on a plane in her condition. i mean, she's doing really well, but she had a stroke and she's weak.

she asked about Karlee and Kelly. i said i hadn't heard from either one. it's true about Karlee. she told me how she used to take Karlee on trips, told me about their trip to the Holy Land when Karlee graduated high school. she told me she always used to get letters from Karlee when she was on her mission. letters from "Sister Egger". she misses Karlee a lot.

I don't think she's going to let me go home with her. we'll see. i know she doesn't "need" me to be there. she is fiercely independent, but i asked her, wouldn't it be nice to have the company? to have someone there, just in case? i'll talk to her more about it.

i would miss doc and the cats and especially chewy, but i could go out and take care of her and stare out over the Bay Area while editing the books. i could do all the little things around the house she's been meaning to get to. stuff that she doesn't want to bother my uncle with. i think we could be good for each other.

she seemed to like doc. she held his hand before we left.

SHE'S SO NORMAL. i forgot how nice she is. i idealized it in my head, but i was still afraid she would just be an older version of my mother. but she isn't. she is a wonderful, kind, emotional lady. and i am so glad i got to see her. i'm so glad i'm going back tomorrow.

i'm tired. i'm worn out from all the emotions of the last 6 days. an email reunion with my brother, my 14th wedding anniversary, my parents being dicks, and my nana' stroke and now a reunion with my nana. and things are just getting started. wow. i am worn out.

i want to go to sleep, but doc is asleep on the couch and there is no alarm in my room, so i can't go lay down in bed. i need to wake him up at 11. i think i'll go take a bath and relax with the rest of "Trout Fishing in America" by Richard Brautigan. it's a single sitting read i divided up into two sessions, to enjoy it more. i may re-read it immediately just because his style makes me so happy.

you'd think i'd be brimming with new poetry behind all this emotion, but i'm really not. i'm going to spend time at allpoetry tomorrow entering contests, so we'll see what i come up with. to advance another level on the site, i need points to sponsor a contest, to win the points, i need to win contests. and so far i've had two disqualifications and two honorable mentions. neither is getting me anywhere. i also need to comment on new users' stuff. 12 comments, i think. and another 20 on older users. it's a cool site. finally a poetry site where people have to interact with each other and comment on other people's work, not just slam theirs up there and go away.
2013, cyd, new

lj friends

for some reason i can no longer add friends to my account. so if you're waiting for me to friend you , i'm sorry. i can't right now but i will keep trying.
2013, cyd, new

i was on the losing side, as she and doc ganged up on me with their pro vegetable propaganda.

i think we're going to take the bus to the Stratosphere this weekend. they are offering free passes to locals with ID, and we have ID. and i usually won't pay to go to the top of a building. but i've always wanted to go up there. it's at the end of the Strip. and i imagine you can see most of Las Vegas from up there. they have rides up there, too. roller coasters that hang off the edge of the building. at first i thought, no way would i want to do that. but doc said that he wanted to ride them and the only time you really feel alive is when you're close to certain death. and i have to agree with that. so we'll see what happens.

doc just sat up and asked me when i was leaving. out of a sound sleep, he did this. i said, "nowhere, what's wrong, honey?" and he says, "I thought you had an appointment with your friend," and at this point i am very confused, i don't have a friend, and i don't have appointments. then he insisted that i had appointments all day and what was i doing home? keep in mind it's 10pm while this is happening. i just kissed his forehead and tucked him in and told him to go to sleep, i had worked it all out. he seemed satisfied with that and sunk back into sleep.

i'm listening to Hole's "Celebrity Skin". the whole album, not just the single. it's been a long time. i have so much music i like and i'm always getting more, that i never seem to have time to listen to it all. and i just found three johnette napolitano albums that i haven't ever heard. but i'm in the mood for something familiar tonight. and lyrics that have nothing to do with family. Hole fits the bill perfectly.

i have to figure out what i'm wearing tomorrow. i guess jeans and my green sweater would be all right. the shoes don't really matter, she can't see the floor from the middle of her bed. or i could wear my black satin pants with the sweater. and a hat. yes, another hat. i'm covering up my dark roots. and i'll straighten my hair. i twisted it into a bun to dry when i washed it last night, so today it was mostly straight with fabulous big waves at the ends. but i've been in the bath and it's curly at the ends again and looking a bit frizzy. it's so weird having to worry about those things. i don't know what i'll do if she does want me to go home with her, i only have a couple of "respectable" outfits.

she didn't say any thing about my teeth, but she kind of avoided looking at me. she looked at doc mostly. or straight ahead. she was a jabber mouth. she talked for almost two hours. it was fabulous. i could listen to her forever. she has the most wonderful voice and northern california accent and she is most eloquent. so much so, it's hilarious when she let's out a "shit" when she was telling a story.

when my dad called, she didn't tell him i was there. that was nice of her. i left my number for her. it's there, so my parents can have it if they want it, i guess. i don't really care about that, i just hope they don't take it from her. i don't think she'd let them, she doesn't put up with any bullshit, stroke or no.

doc is being very good. i mean really great. his dad had a stroke a few years ago and went through the same thing Nana is going to go through and he was so encouraging and so informative . . . telling her what to expect and how good she would feel after the stint was in place.

i'm sure he's curious about my cousin. he spent 25 years in the Navy, point 1, and married a Japanese girl, point 2. if there is anyone in the family i'm sure he'd like to know it's them. i'll see if i can get back in touch with my cousin. we were just kids when we last saw each other. we used to spend christmas eve's together at Nana and Papa's place. and when you picture it, do not picure a quaint old house with moldering old people . . . no, an ultra modern condo/home with huge picture windows and a loft and open multi level floorplan and big mirrors and a wall of glass that looks out on the entire bay area. the Golden Gate Bridge . . . the other bridge i forget the name of. the port. everything. the tree was always over 8 feet tall, encased in an iron framework and suspended from the ceiling over the split stairs leading up from street level. amazing. is it any wonder i run back there in my mind? so yeah, before dinner on xmas eve, we would all get together in the living room with carols playing and the kids would open presents one at a time. and at the time there was only the three of us. me and my two male cousins, one a couple years older and one a couple of years younger. and we would open our presents and make a huge mess and announce our gifts to the room full of cocktail drinking and hors d'oeuvre munching adults. then we'd have a big pot of fresh, steaming cioppino (a tomato based seafood stew, said to come from the port of San Fransisco, made at the end of the day by the wives of fishmongers with the leftovers of the day's catch) it would be piled high with shrimp and crab. and we would have steaming loaves of fresh, that day, sourdough bread with whipped butter.

oh god, i'm dying! i'm literally drooling right now thinking of it. going down to the piers with Nana, down in the city, across the bridge i can't remember the name of. shopping the open markets for the fish, passing steaming pots of crab . . . i'm telling you, my happiest days were with this woman.

i know she cooked other things, i have a picture of Papa with a big ass turkey. but it's the cioppino i remember. and her garlic sourdough bread. and she used to feed me canned pears and cottage cheese. which i objected strongly to, but now crave. they would take me out to dinner all the time in the dresses that my mom would make me, showing me off. but i was a picky eater and never finished my food, and they would feed me anything i wanted to try, filet mignon when i was 14 in Squaw Valley. and every time my Nana would declare, "You waste all of your food, i'm never taking you out to eat again!" and she'd always take me out again. today we argued about the value of vegetables. i was on the losing side, as she and doc ganged up on me with their pro vegetable propaganda.