january 17th, 2009

Fuck.  I need more coffee before I can even HOPE to write anything brilliant.  On the phone just now, my mom compared my potential move to Flagstaff with Mykael to her move with my dad to RENO.  Gross.  It actually felt like a curse.  A curse.  But talking to her was a blessing.  Being her daughter is a blessing too, but blessings can sure be complicated.  It drives me crazy how oblivious she is to her emotional starvation.  It drives me crazy.

Right before she called, I realized that I could change my name to Athena Garland.  Garland.  Garlands are strands of flowers in praise and recognition of the divine.  Or maybe there can be garlands of prayers and blessings.  Garlands woven of community.  Athena Garland.  Athena Grace Garland?  Sure resonates a fuck-load more than Lazzeri.  Mykael has been driving me the fuck crazy on an all too regular basis.  I don’t know what to do with that.  I can’t breathe.  I smoked a clove last night.  After screaming at Mykael the way I have RARELY screamed at another human being.  It was that kind of screaming where NO amount of volume and force seems to be able to break thru the other’s sealed off bubble of stupidity.  I poured everything I am thru my scream, and He would not wake the fuck up.  It was about me feeling heard.  Very often I speak something that feels weighty to me.  That matters.  That impacts me.  And right away, he says something that is completely unrelated, off topic and stupid.  This time he said something about lighting up a cigarette.

Lighting up a fucking fag.  And I had just spoken a belated acknowledgement of how much I had been energetically holding all week while Kelly was gone.  Holding a BIG mommy space.  Holding the boys in a very emotionally coiled, challenging place.  Whoa.  I don’t want to be with him.  Fuck.  I think I need to be single.  I love him, but we don’t belong together.  I will become a sensual masseuse, as I attend community college classes, live alone in a studio, and make it entirely on my own.  Encounter all these young, wounded parts of myself alone.  I am not fucking sure.  He’s a good one.  In so many ways.  But I feel myself rejecting him like a phat splinter.  But after all our fighting last night, he requested to come inside (I was falling asleep in the midst of our conversation) and when he kissed me, it was electric.  Fucking electric.  He turns me on so much, and I can’t help but think it’s because we fight like we do.  Because we are such individuals.  But fuck, he drives me crazy.  I really want to take up smoking.

Athena Garland.  Athena Garland Lazzeri?  Fuck.  I can’t get into the groove with writing this morning.  I want to take ecstasy today.  That will solve all my fucking problems, won’t it?  I just want to smoke and smoke and smoke.  And I want to knit and knit and knit and take ecstasy.  I want to take ecstasy and mushrooms and G.  All is lost, isn’t it?  Because I feel like I could so easily go down that path.

You know what ELSE I want to do?  I want to study relationship.  Like at JFK university or something.

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