here comes the interrigation room scene. they walk in one by one. and my comfort zone evaporates.

apathy.

that's what I am right now. that's all. I'm at tony's. He's going to go mix me a drink. Sometimes I just get SO SICK of everything. When you don't see anything good...when I DON'T...i become...numb because...that is the only way I know how to deal. This sucks. I'm not going to hide it though and go on acting like I'm fine...like life is okay for everyone. NO one I know is happy...no one I care about. Everything is wrong with everyone. It's stupid fucking bullshit. I feel nothing. Earlier today all I wanted was to make people happy whom were sad and deserving of something better...I still wish I could...but know it's out of my hands. what can I do? nothing. I feel like shit too. This morning nothing was wrong. you burrowed into me like a puppy...it was innocent, sweet and perfect. and the smell of your skin in the morning is embedded in my memory like walking. I love that smell..and the sounds we make when we're waking up. those are my favorite times it seems....my favorite new little things to love. Then we have to go on and routine ourselves for the day...and it's gone as fast as it came. that's what happiness is though. tiny moments you have to hold onto. I want more of them...I want them for others too. Sometimes I think I can take the world and put it on my back and make everything okay. other times I think if the slightest thing happens I will crumble. right now...I just don't care really....I'm just here. and so is everyone else... but we're sad. I see that. right now anyway. I'm not going to delve into self destruction or escapism to "get away" I'm still going to live...and try to make things ok, then good, then great, then amazing...that's what i want so nothing is going to STOP me from trying...over and over and over. The pull right now was just too much and my insides are missing. I get emails from people. phone calls. conversations....about how shitty everything is everywhere. like if the world went away we'd all be okay. I always wanted to take all the pain away from people who shouldn't feel it and keep it inside...it was always my goal. "I don't NEED to be happy...I'm just one person..if I can take it away and keep and there are that many people to be happy and good in the world" what kind of logic is that...those things don't happen. It's my empathetic nature...people don't get the meaning of that word unless they really are empathetic so it seems pointless to go into the minute details of what I feel from people when I am around them. It is also what has always gotten me in trouble with friends. It's easier to not let them know what's inside until you know you can trust them...but you never really know for sure...trust is a risk. one of the greatest risks..when you win it follows with a great reward. I hope. I mean I'm pretty sure it does. My sponsor says I focus too much on other people in my life...but I am always analyzing myself...she's says that's not what she means because that can be unhealthy too. Well who knows, everything seems unhealthy at times...I am like a macrocosm of things that are good for you and things you can't handle...in general. I hope feeling this way doesn't upset anyone...sometimes we feel this way. sometimes we just have to be absent of mind and sit and stare at the funny shapes the paint makes on the walls. if two people are together and they both feel this way at the same time do they disconnect from each other completely or do they empathize and become closer in that moment?
I can't wait to wake up again.

this is me.
warm
uncalculated.
this is me.
tender, hold it in 'til you fall asleep; this is me.
bursting from the inside; trapped...
clawing at lights, falling down holes.
this is me
touching your eyelids while you sleep
kissing your side, back. smelling your dreams.
telling you secrets; hoping you catch them...
this is me mending.
in a glass box, on a shelf.
this is me
weak.
warn.
ready.
no.
this is my mix..
time is key
timing is off.
this is me borrowed original.
my fingers are wings. stroking your skies to invade what is ours. make it that way.
this is shock.
this is breathe.
this is light.
this is numb.
you may now...enter...too late...wait.
it will come again.
this is mold.
this is clay.
this is melt.
this is open.
closed.
this is closed.
I walk on walls for practice; wait at green lights for fun
cold and brutal.
no.
this is fresh....
this is fear
this is excitement.
this is empty.
this is clean.
being raw poking in needles and knives and things.
scrapping it out.
this is clear.
I am right I am wrong.
this is stick.
stuck on ?
what is wrong?
this is truth.
need to fit it in need to fit; snug fit; too tight to breath.
this is voice.
this is silence.
show them rockstar politicial art propoganda. where our minds can only complain where the rest of ourselves cannot move.
this is war.
this is not what it should be.
this is me.

Kara J Rice 8/25/04

Nicole Blackman-
the spoken word she performed that I was present at in 2000:

Get Your Hands Off My Brother Get your hands off my brother.I don't care if his name is Stephen or Danielor James or Billy or even if I don't know his name at all.They are all my brothers and you have no right no right at all, to attack any one of them.What is it about love that makes you so scared and angry? You fear what you don't understand but how could a gay man earn such a beating? You think you are mighty because you are 18, ineloquent and full of rage standing over a man with blood pouring from his nose.Where in the world did you get the idea that murdering a man will make your life any better? These men are all my brothers because they were the ones who came to pick me up from a phone booth after I got thrown out of a car. They rubbed my shoulders in taxis when I was tired and bought me a drink when I didn't have the money. They went with me to Audrey Hepburn films and taught me the meaning of words like 'fierce' and 'worthy.' They made me understand that life should be about things that are wonderful, things that are beautiful.These are the men with whom I have the most in common and they taught me more than Cosmo ever did. They drank cup after cup of tea with me when I was unraveling and reeling from being dumped for no reason. They taught me that love is love and who should be the one to judge? We used to say that if I was a gay manor they were straight that we would be lovers.But in many ways,they have been more loving to me than the men I loved.When my courage failed they showed me the power of a good Billie Holiday tune.They told me to do what I believed in, that a glass of wine can fix almost anything,that the music you listen to is the soundtrack of your life,that $1.25 and a sense of style can take you anywhere in this city. They said Everyone is a star and everyone shines it just may be that yours is a little different than mine.They taught me that everyone wants someone to come home to, someone to look after, that everyone adores a tender touch,that everyone needs someone to hold them and say shh when they cry,that everyone like to talk and laugh and cook and watch TV and kiss.They taught me that being a loving person means sometimes getting your heart broken.Whether by violence or virus I've lost some of my guardian angels.Patrick was killed in Boston and I never had the chance to say thank you.Lee died in New York and I never had the chance to say goodbye.Peter didn't want me to see him sick so I didn't know until after he'd gone.I hated him for that.I loved him for that.I made them promise they'd be at my wedding and they made me promise that there would be balloons at their funerals.And I did because they taught me how important promises are.But it's not his time now and I will not let you take him from me,s o get your hands off my brother.(You have no right, no right in the world,to drive through the city breaking the wings off angels.)He may be face down on the pavement but I'm not and I will fight you to save his life because every day in so many ways he saved mine.

I am still numb from the experience.Half the things I wanted to say are forgotten because someone's other half is a blank wall needing to be written upon by people who assume everything about her like she assumes everything about everything else. Some people are too angry to understand how happy the hand is that they've been dealt to them. They're too busy blaming the dealer.E-mail likes to take away every other thought I've had. When did distractions become more important than the things I love? Ever since the cable got injected into the computer full-time and never likes to go to sleep. This is why I study in the library, where things can still be archaic to the girl without a laptop.I feel guilty when I talk to a friend. I feel terrible when I try to sleep. I want to kill myself when I surf the web.Why does any of this matter to you now? Why should it matter when your life is going to be mapped out in numbers from now on?What do you want to be when you grow up?A 4.0 at least.Anyway...I get there. Finally. It's smart to go wandering about for the damn venue with only vague ideas of where it is. But we make it.First thing I do is buy the book. About time I found a copy.The entire stage is decked out in coats that were offered up by the audience members. I didn't trust the stage so I held onto my coat while I made my way into the crowd to get to my seat.Piano music's playing on a loop.Then the lights go dark and she appears. She's more beautiful in person than I could've ever imagined and she's already speaking before I realized where she was. Her words were accentuated by minimal movement. A lighting of a candle here, the unraveling of Christmas lights there...but that's all that was needed. I wasn't sure before how this was going to work as a visual performance, but it worked beautifully. Most of the staging relied on lighting and often, that was all that was needed. The rest was done in her voice.This was not a concert, nor something that I could describe easily. All I can say is that her poetry and her delivery is absolutely...well, I don't know. I think that any word I write will be unworthy of her, so I really can't figure out what to say. But by the end of the show, I just wanted to go home and cry. Not speak to anyone, hell, I didn't even know if I could face HER. Just go home, hold her work on my hands, and fall asleep hoping to dream some wonderful poem. Maybe I should get my notebook out. Lately, I've been letting things fly away too fast. College is making me bland.Most of the poems were new works, or at least ones I hadn't heard before. But they were all excellent. All of them. She also did "Holy," one of my favorites off "Dead Inside," and a chilling version of "Victim," her voice cracking and falling into hysteria as she swung a light above her head, the only light in the room. Halfway through the show, we had a little audience participation session...jiggle your keys when this applies to you. Perhaps it wasn't smart for me to be so honest, especially when you have family members sitting next to you, listening to the soft tinkle when the screen asks if you've ever thought about jumping in front of a moving subway train. I swore I heard a gasp next to me. Oh please, like you haven't thought about it too. [no you don't jump you twit, you just like to float on the thought because it takes you away, calming your nerves for the fleeting moment it occurs to you. but no, you DO NOT JUMP.] I also don't believe I'll ever be loved. And I don't forgive. And I don't forget.And this is as far as I'm ever gonna get. [I know I'm not alone in that respect. I've had the end-of-our-purpose conversation with way too many of my floormates to know that.]The finale was her singing in a white dress, staining her hands, her arms, her chest, her neck, her face with fake blood. When I came home, I found the song in the book. It was written in dedication to Matthew Shepard. I read it again, and it became that much stronger.After the show I didn't want to speak. I tried to get away with talking as little, as little as possible. I got a hanger (because they said we could) that mentioned how girls have wings. Really. Then why did a student go tumbling down eight floors a few weeks ago? Maybe no one told her. I don't like this. There's been two deaths since I've gotten here. That doesn't seem right.I wrote a simple note in her notebook of comments. I didn't know what to say, but I wrote that I would be doing what I'm doing now. Writing. I'm going to write until I can't keep my eyes open anymore And fuck sleep, fucks finals, fuck Taylor sequences and average total cost and intransitive verbs. I am writing.She was taking a bit to come out since she had to clean up. It made me all the more nervous as hell. Do you actually tell people you admire that they're an inspiration? How many times have they heard that, and are sick of it? How badly do you feel because you think that your own work is just a cheap imitation, unworthy and a plain insult to her? How stupid are all these worries? Very. But I'm trembling and nervous and DAMN, I have never acted like this before. I think I can understand now why teenies get so silly around their pop idols.Finally she appeared, her hair wrapped in a towel and her eyes redone. She first goes and talked to whom I assume are her parents. After talking to family and friends for a bit, she turned and moved onto the lot of us waiting for the book signing. Now, how the hell do I approach her when I can't even move my feet, much less speak?Well, I didn't have to worry about moving after all. When I get really scared and shy, I tend to look like I'm twelve (or at least I feel like it). And she must've noticed that and taken pity, since she saw me and said "Hi," very sweetly. I wish I could calm down, but NO, my brain decides that I'm not through with my bad bout of fandom. I told her that she was wonderful, she said thank you. I was about to start crying. Yes, I was this nervous. And yes, I was making a huge fool out of myself. I can't stand losing the ability to treat someone like the talented human being they are, instead of trembling in front of them like some worshipper (there's such a huge difference and I'd like to think that people prefer one type of fan to the other). I can't even ask her for the signing, I'm so afraid to (I have this thing about autograph requests that makes it almost impossible for me to ask for them unless within the most comfortable of situations). She offers to sign the book and while she does, I mention what an inspiration she is to me. Another thank you. And as she moved onto the next person to chat, I got the hell out of there.I could've handled that a lot better. I have an insecurity complex where I NEED to leave behind a good impression of me on anyone I like. And I sure didn't do that this time. Sigh...oh well...done is done. I got to meet one of my biggest inspirations. And I finally got the book. FINALLY.I know this review doesn't come close to describing exactly what Nicole Blackman's work is about. But suffice to say, there are not the right adjectives provided in the English language to properly sum up my feelings on her. Recall the awe and respect I give to Diamanda Galas and equate that to her. THAT's how much I admire this woman. Find something with her writing on it and see for yourself. Golden Palominos' "Dead Inside," Recoil's "Liquid" or her book, "Blood Sugar." Because she is why I haven't thrown out my latest poetry.She is why I can write something, and not always hate the results.She is why I now live through my pen.

- On Nicole Blackman written in January of 2000- my senior year.
A friend e-mailed this to me; I don't even have the original copy anymore. I remember how much I loved writing. I like Nicole's poetry but...she's too dark now...at least for me...she wasn't then though she was "perfect". But it's funny how as you grow some things grow and some things fade away...that's normal right? So, I don't remember much around this time in my life...I was just getting back to school after being absent for a while...really really absent and I was just getting into the swing of being able to have a social life again...
but this brought back a lot of memories and why you decided to send it to me now is beyond me...but thank you.

I wonder if we all start out with the ability/capacity to be geniuses...or...my "view" of what genius is. It's true that we all have the ability to learn and grow and "expand" our minds as well as destroy, detatch, escape from, and devoid them. And most of us do a little of both...or a lot of the latter...lol. But when you DO screw up what you had...or what you COULD HAVE had...can you get it back? Or do you develop on a different scale there on out? Because you no longer have the same basis that you started with. You're left with a new one. But not fresh...just...new. If you screw it up PROFOUNDLY and semi-recover...do you have the ability to grow as much as you could have before? Or are you not even suppose to think of it that way at all...forget it and do what you can? Maybe. What if some internal faults are externally obvious...can you change those too? Not self esteem; that's not what I mean. Brain function; disfunction; nonfunction. If you can build yourself mentally in the general way still...which we all can of course...then can the "other" problems go away too? If not; does it even matter? What dictates intelligence? There are all these categories for certain smarts we have...all kinds. Some of us use one side of our brains more, some both more than "normal" some less than...all portioned out differently yet COMMON enough to be categorized. I know "normal" only exists on a societal scale. I don't care about normal. I do care about the importance of things. Significance. Why is the imagination boundless but intelligence not? Yet, in general, the more imagination you have the "smarter" you are. No matter what category your mind may be in...but...if other things factor in...irregularities, emotional instability...the mentality of genius is skewed. Intelligence without function/action is not intelligence at all? Because it's useless? Some of these questions in my head are obvious but I still get stuck on them... I want to go back to school. If I say I want something extrodinary then I am dreaming and escaping and "unrealistic"...there's something WRONG with that...like it's childish..."grow up Kara, this is the real world"
but weren't you just saying "anything is possible" ?
My parent's make me angry sometimes with their limited logic and...ignorance in ways. Parents in general seem to be that way though...
I want to go back to school so I need to make more money so I can actually SAVE MONEY if I can't get in on a full ride or am not covered entirely under student aide. But mostly so I can go to school Full Time when possible... and work parttime...
It's nearly perceptible.
I mean I CAN see it happening I am just so freaking impatient sometimes...and I know i need another job or a second job I'm just concerned with being miserable while I work at getting what I want... I don't want to be and I don't JUST want a new job for money; I want a better environment. Imagination and motivation can really be affected if your environment for most of your daily life reminds you of desperation and hospital beds... and you can't FIX that part of it you just float in it. I like the things in my head adn I LOVE the people in my life...but that's a big part of crappiness. lol...and if I could just fix THAT and make people really HAPPY that deserve it than I'm over half way there...but that's the step that's hard...MOVING...getting your "feet off the ground" taking a step...It's important. I have to figure this out. It will be good and the thought excites me :)

I have all these thoughts and ideas in my head. I get excited about life sometimes....it's my grandmother's 93rd Bday tomorrow.
I don't know if I'm going...
but I'm going to call if her anyway...at least...
I'm going to Zimms tonight with Tony; I haven't gone out with him for a while....

SO I'm sitting here talking to Tony and I just asked him about this job he's going to be doing and he said "It's too complicated to talk about" LOL...
that was funny
I just wanted to say that....
I'm BORED today
like watching my toenails grow bored...
ok
the end

lying on the floor
four stories high
in the corridor
between the asphalt and the sky
i am caught like bottled water
the light daughter
i wonder what you look like
under your t-shirt
i wonder what you sound like
when you're not wearing words
i wonder what we have
when we're not pretending
it's never-ending, haven't you heard?
i don't need to tell you
what this is about
you just start on the inside
and work your way out
we are all polylingual
but some of us pretend
there's virtue in relying
on not trying to understand
we're all citizens of the womb
before we subdivide
into sexes and shades
this side
that side
and i don't need to tell you
what this is about
you just start on the inside
and work your way out
undressing for the fan
like it was a man
wondering about all the things
that i'll never understand
there are some things that you can't know
unless you've been there
but oh how far we could go
if we started to share
i don't need to tell you
what it is about
you just start on the inside
and work your way out

he said, you've gotten tough
'cause my tone was curt
yeah, and when i'm approached in a dark alley
i don't lift my skirt
in this city
self-preservation
is a full time occupation
i'm determined
to survive on these shores
i don't avert my eyes anymore
in a man's world
i am a woman by birth
and after nineteen times around i have found
they will stop at nothing once they know what you are worth
talk to me now
i played the powerless
in too many dark scenes
and i was blessed with a birth and a death
and i guess i just want some say in between
don't you understand
in the day to day
in the face to face
i have to act
just as strong as i can
just to preserve a place
where i can be who i am
so if you still know how
talk to me now

Can I just say that when I workout I workout pretty hard. Every day I do my 20 minute pilates routine in my living room which is meant to "sculpt" your body..then 3-4 of the 7 days in a week I come HERE to the gym of my apartment complex to work out on the machines. A year ago at this time I weighed about 225 lbs and I now weigh exactly 163 lbs..the majority of that weight loss started when I began working out more and eating less junk. I hardly eat junkfood at all anymore OR drink regular pop. I also started drinking water ALL the time (which I highly recommend)...recently when working out I would get tired really fast and want to quit sooner than normal. I have stressed at work more than normal and have been thinking a lot about my cousin's wedding. My mom took me clothes shopping about 3 weeks ago and bought me some new clothing...she kept asking about my weight and that I just needed to keep working on it...she never says good job for that or be careful or anything just "are you still losing weight?"...so we were in the mall and I have a GNC membership card because i get vitamins and iron pills there and sometimes their energy drinks or weird candy bars they sell their. We were looking at the new dietary supplements and this guy that works there told us about these new pills they have and how they work and yadda yadda...so I wanted to get them...so my mother bought them for me. I have been taking them before I work out in the gym each day that I come here...Lately I've been getting really moody and irritable...and feeling off kylter...I didn't know what was wrong...didn't say anything about those pills really to anyone because i would only think about them when I was getting dressed to come work out..then I'd remember. It wasn't my intetion to out right LIE about anything. So lastnight at work I was totally depressed, paranoid, didn't think anyone cared...didn't feel loved...had a panic attack in my car and drove home... I called my dad and he informed me of how bad those pills can be for a person who has tendencies towards depression or instability...I didn't know. So I stopped taking them. So then I get accused of having an eating disorder because I've been "not feeling well" when I eat lately...I didn't know why...also because I pee alot... anyway point is I DON'T have a problem here. I've stopped taking those stupid pills and believe me it wasn't hard...I don't want to be crazy! So I'm just going to keep working hard for myself and being healthy. I understand the concern and am not MAD that he thinks that or won't believe me...but at the same time it feels a bit unfair. I know I reacted hurtfully yesterday but mentally I was totally off balance...below I said "this isn't me" and it wasn't...I feel much better today after knowing what the Hell my problem was although I'm overwhelmed with guilt of accusing people of being heartless and not caring...guilt of lying...I didn't MEAN to be that way and it was totally unintentional but I don't think that's an excuse. so I'm being punished but I know I deserve it.
but I just wanted to clear that...
I'm fine
and will continue being HEALTHY...

I think I figured it out. I hope. I'm going to be okay; the funny thing is that when you're dealt something you don't know where to place or what it is exactly and then when you FIND OUT what it is...your battle is half over. I wish people had more faith in me. But it just takes harder work which equals a better outcome for those who DON'T. I feel loads better than I did earlier this evening... Some things make me very sad but at the same time I'm not angry anymore. I understand I suppose. Anyway. I hope you all have a great weekend. I will be finding a job.

sometimes people have really bad days. where they just can't work anymore I think.
But this isn't me. This really isn't me at all.

I don't feel loved today. I don't feel cared for. I feel desolate and alone on a single content...all my own. I don't let it in though if anyone came to rescue me from my island I would hide in a tree...I don't want to hide but no one can find me. or they don't have arms strong enough to pull me out of the branches. I never want to be saved. I never want to need anything. I want to be alone and okay with it. But I'm still not okay. But I got away today. I can't look into any eyes everything in me is wrong. I am overflowing and empty. If I show it everyone is gone. and I'm showing and they're gone. I know these feelings are temporary and I can be strong I know if I found a nitch or thread to start with...something to touch...that it would be okay. ... but I can't just say it...I can't just ask anything of anyone I can't explain anything. I don't know what's wrong with me I am suppose to be the one that helps...comfort I am suppose to be comfort how can comfort need comfort? I'm without myself. Grey all around. It's like vommit like hollows people out. I want to be full not hollow. I want to be okay. I want to be happy. I am happy...what is happening ... this timing is off it is wrong. I am not suppose to be this way. I have to be strong; can't lift a finger and toe. The only time it gets better is if I say it's okay. I can't speak; my lips won't move...I can only feel and react and my reactions are off...my reaction cause other reactions from others...introverted..
no one ever wants to pull you out
of your
door.
in the way that they reach their hand in softly and you just grab on. They just wait for the wind to blow it open...or they try to break it down.

and I understand
that's how it works. I understand I'm doing it wrong.

I know
so I can't be upset.
It's all myself

like always how I fix things. I just want someone to fold me...hold me when I'm cry. And you're tired of breaking it down
and you're tired of telling me why.

I need someone to just.
tell me what's wrong with me
I hope it's okay.
I'll be okay tomorrow.

I want to dance; who wants to dance with me?