Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Feb 14, 2007


Paiboon is going to China for a couple of years for technical school. He’s leaving in a few days. He’s at Mom’s. I’d gone there looking for K. Hadn’t seen him in a few days. We hug in parting, as we never have before. and we ride a twisty, windy roller coaster chute downstairs while still holding each other. It was totally romantic and fun. At the bottom, I tell him to keep in touch and good luck and all that.

His demeanor now changed and he makes sexual advances on me and I back off, making it very clear I’m not interested. Again he advances and again I push him away.

Can I use your phone? I ask him. Someone had called in my abandoned car yesterday, which K was driving. And I wanted to know where it was. Maybe I could find him before anything drastic happens.

I grab the phonebook but am somewhere else--a gallery? A show before I can look for number. There are so many phonebooks there that I flipped through many out-of-state once before I find a Brattleboro one. Even still, something distracts me from calling them.

Earlier, downtown, I had run into Audrey Garfield and her sister and family who were visiting. Sister was very friendly with me, having remembered me from her last visit. We graduate from talking at a small café table to talking while under bed sheets together with her husband, though nothing sexual was happening or expected of any of us. It was pretty comfortable anyway. She sometimes felt like Taina and not Audrey’s sister.

She was telling me that Crown publishing was going to be contacting K soon for a deal. Her mother warned her against telling me, since I’m also a writer looking for a deal and she works for a publisher. But I am not jealous or offended, more fascinated. She then shows me the piece he’d gotten published--it looked like a tear sheet from a Chrysalis Reader. I was amazed--it was a beautiful, passionate love poem--obsession, actually was more like it. Heart-wrenching meditation of the names of the boys he’s infatuated or in love with. So Crown wanted to do a book from a Lao-American who’s coming out and struggling with that. I’m totally into it and happy for him. And this echoes, much deeper in the piece he'd let me read earlier, about his infatuation with a certain man, Teoun, who also shows up in this piece. Last bit of advice she gives me was that he was going to go cry his eyes out for a couple of days--this is what he’s told her last he saw her.

The day was getting dark as I went around looking for him, and I passed a guy who said he’s called the police about me car, it was parked, unoccupied for a long time. I said, Thanks, and that’s when I started off to my parents’ house, to use the phone, also on the off chance that K was there.

Throughout this dream, I kept passing Matt Fisher. He’d nodded or waved in acknowledgment. And he’s a sad vision, too. Always in a sweater, a backpack, always as if he’s just been crying all afternoon. But also, I know that every time I see him is because he’s decided it wasn’t all worth it to kill oneself and end it. That this time he was going to keep trying.

And I remembered acknowledging the amount of trust K must have felt in me and in Taina to have shown those writings to us in the first place. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to be publicly outed, not yet anyway.

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Saturday, April 07, 2007



In a dorm-like room, Sheri and Rose are visiting me and insist on using my hair dryer for something--even after the deadline has passed. So afterwards, they also involve me in an elaborate scheme in which to cover up the hair dryer use--which involves the hair dryer and using it more!! They leave to go to their rooms… but they plan on being back.

I’m up and a little panicked so I start making the bed to keep myself occupied. One of those RA’s come in and starts chatting with me. He picks up my hairdryer and starts using it. I’m real self-conscious and try to pretend that nothing happened previously. I say, “hey, is that your hairdryer?”

He puts it down on the bureau, taken apart, as if it had been a gun, and gives me a supreme look of catching someone in a heinous crime. I know I’m done for. His attorney comes in and drafts something against me --and since I’d done nothing but let Sheri and Rose use the hairdryer-- it was for Aiding and Abetting. That’s what I was charged with. Still a felony.

They leave my room and I consider going a few doors down to my lawyer, David. But by now, it’s past 11 pm so I decide to wait until tomorrow.

So I put all the dryer pieces out in the hall by my door and close it. Once Sheri and Rose come back (if they do tonight) they can guess what happened. Whether they came back or not, I don’t know. They didn’t know or anything.


David (my lawyer) must have been visiting with me in my room. He was chatty, going on about learning how to make a particular kind of seaweed soup from a now-dead-but-still-revered Japanese chef he used to study under. And so I offered him a bowl of noodle soup I’d made from scratch, following a recipe I’d found.

He tasted it and was very surprised by its deceased master would have been proud of the dish. David gave me permission to make this dish as often as I like. He then left the room.

~visited with Sheri + Rose last night @ Tea Lounge and they were determined about talking me into staying in Brattleboro and not moving to Montpelier.
~the lawyer “David” was very muck like the lawyer Joe who spoke at the BACLT workshop last month
~his apprenticeship reminded me of an essay I’d read about a similar thing with a master of Japanese soba
~last night I read court documents charging the aid of helping to purchase large quantities of marijuana. The actual purchaser pled out


Somphone and I are walking down Elliot Street. He’s spying on a house at the park. He ends up stabbing a man to death. He has to climb over fences and through houses to avoid being seen. We go into the backyard of one of the houses and see an old woman there--someone who normally comes into the bookstore.

Can we ask you a question, I say. She shrugs. She’s folding laundry. What’s going on with the house across the street? You don’t want to know what’s going on there, she replies. That’s the end of our conversation.

Somphone and I have had such a great time hanging out--we’ve been catching up and now we’re going to go downtown, maybe to McNeil’s for a beer.

I guess we just missed the Alumni Parade that was happening as we walked up and down Elliot Street and kept missing McNeil’s. It’s funny, is all. Our brains are distracted.

At some point, S becomes DL. And a couple of times we pop into my house, which is in FL and used during the day as a Dr’s office. he was about to close up though. He asked me if I’d found a job yet to where I was moving to. I said I had some pretty strong leads. And we both complained about the lengthy application for the job he’d recommended me for with his firm. He’s kindly and he cares and looks after me. I’m for sure moving though, and it’s dependent upon getting a job.

DL is talking to Chris Z. & LK about his decision to follow me wherever I am--to live alone and leave his old life behind. I feel like I’ve come home now, he says about being with me. No one argues. I’m the sort that will let anyone come along as long as they want to. And a part of me feels the same way he does. He knows, because I’ve told him, that my husband (DB) is still home and living with me. Somphone knows this also. And yet it doesn’t seem to matter. I am contemplating telling DL that I no longer have sexual feelings for him, but I keep waiting for “the right time”.

~my impending move to Montpelier
~that lengthy application to Entergy


big friendly, mean white dog
Christol babysitting
the lesser of two crimes


DB’s dad is Archer Mayor. We’d been visiting his parents, for his brother Jon’s birthday party. As DB was packing upstairs, Archer put on his coat and knapsack and went outside. He returned back in and threw the knapsack into the hall closet as DB was packing up. I knew Archer knew that I saw him do it. We come down and almost leave, but I mention the knapsack to DB. And so with the excuse of checking around one more time, he goes upstairs. I have to covertly try to guide him to the correct closet door--there are so many.

His dad’s getting suspicious about our poking around. I go up there to help DB. Now Archer’s getting more suspicious. We can’t find the knapsack. Whatever, I say. It’s just a backpack. It’s what’s indie it that we wanted, the key to the estate--a big plastic thing that looked almost like a throwing star/cigar cutter with a very sharp blade on it. I’d seen Archer’s assistant with one.

We make to leave without it and say our goodbyes. As we were pulling out of the lot, DB’s parents come outside. They’re not wearing anything to protect them against the heavy, blinding snowfall. They throw the knapsack that we’d been looking for onto the roof rack of our car. It’s a sort of unspoken acknowledgement.

What are they going to do now, I ask.

They’ll keep running, he said. His parents are fugitives from the FBI. And they have to keep running. In tossing that bag up there, they basically gave him the keys and left him in charge of the estate--DB already has a big mansion of his own.

There was another weird interesting dream before this with me and DB. But I can’t remember it now.

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Tuesday, March 20, 2007

random dram notes -- part 2


Shoplifting in an upscale shop--a group of guys. Are they really stealing? Thing just are always missing after they leave.


A friend is dialing 911. There’s a fire at Green Mountain Mama’s. The greeting was a warning against pranks. What did they say, I ask. They’re sending a postcard in stamped English. It’s OK we think, we don’t see fire yet. But we’re close. There’s smoke everywhere. I reach for the phone to call back, angrily. But my Dad says No. Well, did you give them the address? No. So I call back with that information. They say something I don’t remember. This is ridiculous, I say during the call this time. I could have just WALKED to the police/fire station and back already. I try to talk the operator into sending a cruiser down, just for a look.


I’m on some big field day trip. Orchestral. DB joins in the band after a while. “Song about a car crash” He announces “I’ll organize it as a symphony or fugue.” He’s playing keyboards? He wrote it. These are his friends at this highly prestigious festival.

Coming back on the subway, there are “bugs” everywhere--out in the open. Video recorders are stuck to the walls and ceilings--everywhere. You can hear the operators on the other end. They’re supposed to blend into the background, but they really don’t. A bunch of them look like eyes--of beasts--beady with lots of hair on the surrounding “face”. They even blinked. Others were scarab beetles that wiggled their legs.


We’re on a big tour bus getting dropped off. We all get off and the bus turns drive off and I ask everyone to say goodbye to the driver. It’s my dad. “Bye, Dad,” I yell loudly. I realize I’ve only got a sarong and a sweater. I try to look decent. I hear the gate, There are flash bulbs going off--I might be in a photo.


I’m at Jade Harmon’s house. She’s serving us dessert cake and dinner on fun colored plastic dishes that she says she uses also for dinner. She and Anneka abd Hollie are familiar with a game she just picked out that features Greek goddesses. T & Dana are there too. In the background field of the board, the letters read, “Chelsea Murders” (“Girls”). I’m not familiar with it, so Jade gives me bakground historical context.


T & Dana wanting in with threesome with me


Something about my conversation with someone and that person saying they’d had the same dream! At the same time? It was one of my first dreams, and I tried pretty hard to remember it and all my other dreams too.


after he’s done playing: “where’s my piece of cheese?” It’s in his burger and I already tied it into his shoe (the baby kid).


Getting in an argument with Eric. I ask him to play rummy. But he thought we were gonna play that tomorrow. I have to tell him how I play it everyday.


Marlon Brando and Kurt Douglass won awards for portraying returning war veterans in 1st and 2nd ½ of the century. Previous was for Manchild in the Promised Land. I can’t remember.


I’m at a conference thing at the Latchis with Christol and send her outside.
--wait-- movie--
a woman like Julianne Moore was sucking dick. Then in sequal she’s wearing some weird creature costume. And the dicks she sucks are diseased and disfigured and talk back. Several got bad reviews.
There is a steep rolling(?) cliff that we are climbing to see something.


(?) … about a culture’s mores if a baby has a 2nd mother, we always give deference to the 1st, unless the baby chooses 2nd mother over 1st. Must follow baby’s choices. It doesn’t know any better and have to watch out for that.


Some tacks had fallen on the ground and I talk to Christol about picking them up.


Laura Casey works at Hospice thrift shop and is dressing a customer. I told her I want her job. They have such fun. The customer just lost lots f weight.

8/14 [are these already posted?]

Captions to wallpaper / computer generated art. Old male monk is singing for us a very bluesy chant “I talk about it all the time”--about his labors and his work, his hard life. I was on a date with Yuz.


My mother has seen me for who I really am. She no longer treats me as her child.


I’ve walked through a door--a glittering spinning portal into my present world. There are many more people and things that happen here.. This is all I can remember. Story sharing/swapping.


Blood between legs. Was with JD. Both in truck cab in historic Brattleboro--working?


Kindergarteners. 11 am. Kids are there ready to tease me. Teacher retiring, turning into a bird.


Downtown festival. I find lots of boxed cards, etc that Nancy had bought out ages ago. They were in their own display that I had never put out. It was my fault.

I start to make a display of this stuff including some furniture in the parking lot. There are already a few tables in the parking areas next to Coffee Country.

One of the tables I’m very familiar with--I’ve lived with it before. And I hate to compromise that spot by putting all this there, but I need to. These tables would have made perfect writing spots and for a moment I fantasize about setting up my office at one of them. In all this search I find lots of books--I also find at least one note to me (there are lots of them) about my participation in the festival. Notes of thanks, fan mail. I am bummed that I didn’t receive them back when I just did the performance. It’s been so long. The envelopes were already opened, too. But I know I didn’t read them before.


Advice to Tom Cruise: 13 bets. give is 2 weeks in autumn, when the problem is strong so they won’t die off. Dress?

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