Tag Archives: friends

Playmakers, Death, and Tea

22 Jan

I had a dream in which I lived in…a warehouse. It certainly looked like a warehouse. I had my own little corner loft where my bed was located.

A couple of friends were helping me create a play in that same warehouse. We had various unfinished stage sets–structures made of wood and chip board that hadn’t been painted yet–while those two, who were actors, were wrapped up in rehearsing. One was female and the other male. They somehow managed to break a couple of holes in a set–maybe it was a canvas background–and I was beginning to get anxious about getting work done on the sets. I’m not sure what I was working on, probably costumes.

I mentioned to the two of them that I’d appreciate it if they’d take a break from rehearsing and work on the set. They made some excuse, like they needed to get the choreography right, and they exchanged a look that convinced me that they were just humoring me and weren’t really going to go through with this play. They probably thought I was insane.

*

I was an observer, like I was watching a movie.

The setting was a hotel, I think. At least two characters were thieves or something low-class and not respectable.

In a large space just beyond a corridor (both with simple white walls), someone sneaked up behind a man in a waiter’s uniform (white jacket) and killed him somehow. He fell to the floor.

A busy and authoritative woman in black came along with a pot of tea. She was probably the housekeeper. I thought she was going to see the dead body, scream, and drop the tea pot, making it shatter. Instead, she approached a big barrel-like thing full of tea and poured some in. It was in a row of such barrels on the floor and against the wall, along one side of a hallway. A couple of other busy people were in the hallway. First, she said something about more tea, but after pouring some in, she said, “Maybe that’s a little too much tea.”

Sociopath Detox

20 Jan

The following is, I’m fairly certain, the first poetry I’ve written since The Worst Frenemy in the Galaxy dissed my poetry. This means it took over two years.

And…apparently this website doesn’t know that poetry exists, since apparently I can’t write here in single space, which is annoying.

SOCIOPATH DETOX

Did you truly think

Everyone except you deserves consequences

And that after you insulted and falsely accused

and yelled at me for fifteen hours

After my years of wasting time and energy

Practicing self-negation for your unworthy self,

That I’d continue tip-toeing

around you and waiting on you?

Your delusions of entitlement are limitless.

 

Inside it was already over

I’d been sick of you for two years:

Your endless criticisms and gaslighting and lies.

Whenever you cancelled our plans,

I exhaled in relief: I wouldn’t see you that day,

A day without your soul-sucking energy.

 

Three months earlier, my mother died

Along with her shouts, her withering scorn,

her false accusations, her cigarette stench.

 

After four and a half decades,

I finally have no vampires telling me who I “am”

And can finally start figuring out who I AM.

 

*

Closeness to you

Was like associating with someone who was gathering

blackmail material against me

While simultaneously trying to prevent me

From acquiring blackmail material against them.

 

Closeness to you

Was like constantly carrying a shield

I must hide behind and keep thickening

only to keep discovering that it isn’t sturdy enough.

 

Closeness to you

Meant never knowing which mood or personality I’d meet that day

And dreading every time we meet up,

Knowing you’d find anything and everything to use against me.

 

That’s not real friendship.