… onion skin moods …

Journal…July 8th

“I struggled through 3 days of layers, of onion skin moods…
This day I finally figured how to charge my old phone card,
and called him.
He wasn’t home til early afternoon…7 there…I told him…
hmmmm….something…I can’t remember…and he was in a
shit mood, self absorbed, short with me.
I got mad….
“See Ya!”  I said….and hung up.

I felt bad, and after a couple phone conversations,
called him back, and said…

“We promised not to end in anger.”
and he said
“Fuck the Lawyers, let’s talk”…. and we did.

He said at first that he wasn’t sorry he’d told me, just that
he’d told someone who didn’t want the truth, and would
rather live in ignorance…
that actually, he could have never told me….
which didn’t help at all.
In fact, it Really pissed me off.

“Please!  Give me the Respect of letting me go through
3 days of processing, my way…!”  I said…
…emphatically, sternly, clearly.

And the pause let me know that he too was processing…

“It’s not going to happen again…” came the voice, unsolicited.


“No….. it’s not the way I want to do things…”

“So…what…. you’re telling me…you learned something?”



She thought about the conversations they had had in the last
few days, when he was still high on alcohol, on sex, on
testosterone, on whatever else… and he had tried to
rewrite the definitions of TRUE….
…as in Be True to Me… and
she had found it embarrassing, sad, insulting, self deprecating.

Fortunately for him, he did quickly apologize for breaking the
agreement, which was his discreet and face saving macho
style… and she accepted that.

Her head still spun with these ridiculous patters that went on
like a litany of questions, confrontations… of him and of self…

…what did you get from it, what did it do for you, make you,
give you…was she like me…was she pure…was she a slut…
was she blonde…young, adoring, aloof…what?  what was it?

what was it that turned you on? was she Like me?  something
i wish i could be?  something totally different from me…
…did she inspire you? … what!

In the end, only time and doing things, waiting for the clouds
of confusion and disillusionment to dissipate and pass, allowed
for new skies to form, and created a new palette
upon which to write the future.





… the anniversary …

It was the day they got together… hooked up… did it
for reals … and she always had remembered the day.
It was easy… the Fourth of July.

People joke about it, how getting together with someone
was like the Fourth, skyrockets, all that, but it was that
too… and on the very Day, with the sounds and flashes
still reverberating in the night skies.

That was a long time ago.. 1987… yet it was clear as spring
water on a summer’s day.

It’s 2005, and she called him all day.
It was the first time the date had come around since
they had found eachother again.

She called into the night, but no answer.  The phones
were often out in Brasil, but it was odd that no one
answered for so long.
It was mid morning on the Fifth that he picked up…
he’d not been home that long.

“How Are you?”… his jolly voice barked at her.
“Sad and lonely… not good this week” she drifted off.
“Really?” came the response.  Quiet…

“Where have you been?” she asked quietly, the first thing
on her mind, relief and strange wondering mixing in her.

“Oh, I was checking out a job, I was visiting a friend, I got
a haircut… I Knew it was our Day …blah blah …”
…..the list went on, but she wasn’t hearing the details,
only the tone.  A certain manic thing…

“Listen… I have to tell you.  I wasn’t looking, but I got
a haircut, and I ran into someone I’d known before…
(her heart suddenly went dead)

“well, I don’t have to tell you do I?
I’m not going to apologize.
It meant nothing…

“….Say something…!”

She was without words.  The sounds were there, but nothing
came from her lips.  Her breath came in shallow whispers.
(please allow me to absorb this, she thought, but could not say)

“If you go out and do something to retaliate, it’s over!”…
…he shot back at her over the line.

“It was just sex, tits and ass…”
Quickly he evaporated the subject, and his hurried voice
filled in the hollows.

“I want to buy a ticket for my wife to come here…
I caught a 30# fish, I’m good, you’re gonna be so
proud you chose me…”

Still she could not form words… everything was floating.

“I’m not going to say it was the alcohol or the drugs…
I wanted her, she appealed to me …
I’m being modest here…
I had a hard time.  I decided I needed a reward….

“Do you want to think about it and call me later…?

His voice went on in her ear, she doing her best to just
hear what the words were, and put them away for keeping,
to interpret them later…

“If you don’ wanna speak with me ever again, just let me know…
I’ll pay you back what I owe you.  I’ll sell my car, my watch…”

….”Do you love me?”….

While he waited for her to breath again, he started singing
Lou Reed’s  “Walk on the Wild Side”, and when he got to
…”an’ the colored girls sang do de doo de doo…”,
she almost threw up.

“I can’t do this right now” came out of her mouth instead,
and she hung up.