lishesquex: (Default)
Wrote this one in London ages ago (during the winter). Found it on a scrap piece of paper:

I went to listen to the playlist
Made for you and found it deleted
Apparently in a fit of bitterness
Unremembered, or a glimmer of
Wisdom at last, perhaps.
My fingertips ache from the cold
With no song to strum, and the summertime
Strains of that harmonica
No longer swell like hope.

Untitled

Sep. 27th, 2013 02:32 am
lishesquex: (iconomicon - love is a snap)
I'll feast my eyes if not my lips
And take from today what I may.
I'll learn to follow the script.

And I have what six months equips
Me with, on this windy September day;
I'll feast my eyes if not my lips.

I think I might finally come to grips
With this levelheaded way.
I'll learn to follow the script.

What absence bloomed can now be fixed;
We still have much to say.
I'll feast my eyes if not my lips.

This wildweed dream I'll trim with snips
Till longing is whittled away
By learning to follow the script.

Though slow I rise from this eclipse,
I was glad to see you today.
I'll feast my eyes if not my lips
And I'll learn to follow the script.


~///~


Took the structure from a Marilyn Hacker poem, "Villanelle: Late Summer".  And now that this poem is out of my head, I can finally go to sleep.

PS I know the constant repetition of "And I'll learn to follow the script" kind of it makes it seem like I'm just trying to convince myself and I'm not /actually/ over her, but it's all right guys, poetry is always usually an overblown magnification of a single germ of feeling/idea.  I think I'm safely recovered.  But I didn't want to let the feels go to waste when I could wrangle a good poem out of it.
lishesquex: (Default)

I saw McKinley again today.  We had lunch and then talked for about five hours before she suddenly realised she was late to work and had to rush off.

Ah man.  She is still so, so beautiful.  I still love spending time with her and just watching her talk and laugh.  But I think I have some closure.  And that is a very good thing.

She remembered to bring the book that she told me about and which I said I wanted to borrow like six months ago.  I was happy that she remembered, because I was beginning to write that book off as something I'd never get to read (it's out of print and rather hard to find).  So yay book. 

It turns out that she is now back together with the ex, Oliver, who she had been pining over when we first met and started dating.  I said congratulations.  I think I mostly mean it.  I am certainly happy for her, if not for Oliver.

I think I've also finally accepted that she is probably too free spirited for me, as a long term relationship option.  It's a quality that I find incredibly attractive, because it's so much the opposite of how I normally operate.  I am a planner, and an organiser, and I like stability.  She is someone who is not bound by responsibility or the material things of the world, who is happy to go where life takes her, and finds freedom in poverty.  I want to own my own home one day and do the whole family thing, if possible.  She finds a mortgage to be too much like a prison.  It would never work.  But, given the chance, I think I would still like to drift with her a while, if I could.  I know, I'm dreaming.

Anyway.  She is back together with her ex.  We had good friendship!talks.  Her parting words, as she ran for her tram, was that we should catch up again soon.  I also told her at some point today that cycling to Collingwood/Abbotsford is not an overly difficult thing to do.  So maybe I will cycle there one day and we can have smashed avocado at the breakfast place near her house that has the best smashed avocado in Melbourne.  We have been playing Words With Friends and Facebook messaging each other about Hemingway and cats. 

This is a better place than before.

Mostly... mostly I'm just glad to see her again.

lishesquex: (Default)
"I think it's an experience we've all had.  You say, "Oh, yes, I did something terrible, I lament it.  I'm not going to do anything about it.  I've now expressed my guilt.  The end." That happens all the time.  But the crime isn't over when you express your guilt.  You did something wrong, it had consequences.  What are you going to do about it?  Guilt can be a way of preventing action.  You comfort yourself by saying, "Look how noble I am.  I confessed that I did something wrong, and now I'm free."  -- Noam Chomsky
lishesquex: (iconomicon - mirrors lie to cats)
The last few days I've been mulling over the general feeling that, as I get older, everything becomes more faded and bland.  I don't feel half so strongly as I used to about people, ideals... everything.  It's been a while since I felt that fangirl "squee" feeling, definitely.  And as for people that I care about, I feel like that group is shrinking.  I wish it weren't, but I just feel so disconnected from everyone.  I don't even really confide in my LJ anymore.

This is an attempt to reconnect a little, even if it's just with LJ.

Today I had a student teacher teach one of my classes for the first time.  It was interesting, and slightly uncomfortable to watch.  She was good.  Probably better than 80% of student teachers out there.  But it was still kind of awkward, because she hasn't yet learned how to project her own authority and kept looking to me to affirm what she was saying and doing.  The kids can smell that from a mile away.  She also went at a much slower pace than I usually do and I watched a couple of stronger students start to get bored and restless.  My Year 7s are generally very well behaved, and they still were for this lesson, but the two strongest personalities were away today as well as about 6 other students, so it'll be more challenging when there's a full compliment.  It was weird, too, because it made me realise how confident I've grown as a teacher, and made me recognise skills I have in classroom management that come so naturally now I take them for granted.

Whilst I was on yard duty today, I had a random girl come up to me and ask if I was the Year 12 English Language teacher.  I said yes and she introduced herself and said I'd probably teach her next year, and that English Language was her favourite subject.  The whole thing made me really sad that I'm leaving.  I hope they get a good replacement.

I bought two tickets to a Melbourne Writers Festival event today, and ended up emailing McKinley. I offered her the other ticket, because I know it's the kind of thing she'd be interested in.  Anyway, I wrote a short email and hit send before I could think too much about it.  She replied quickly, to her credit, but could not make it due to prior plans.  At least we are sort of back in email communication. I declined her invitation to see her friend's bands after my MWF thing, but asked if she wanted to catch up for coffee at some point in the future. 

Some of you are probably going NO LISH, NOOOO.  In fact, Rianna was in my room as I was composing the email and she was like NO too. But it makes no difference.  Without emailing her, or being in any kind of contact with her, I was still stuck.  I have been stuck here in this emotional space for six months.  It can't get any worse than where I've already been.

Saudade

Mar. 12th, 2013 12:55 am
lishesquex: (cara 2)

I'm still waiting for the memory to die
That lives in red dusks, in the husk of hope,
That howls and rages every dawn between
My first waking thoughts and the office door

But then I suppose a week isn't long,
After all, to heft and swallow a death.
To forget the press of lips, and her hands
In my hair, her laughter etching my heart.

I could write a list of the long shadows
Map a city of lights, longing, a life.
Kronos: Why aren't you enough? Destroyer
Of worlds and crumbler of things - I'm still here.

I'm still here, waiting, between the where I
Am and the when in which she might love me.

Ashes

Mar. 1st, 2013 08:31 pm
lishesquex: (xena - comic)

I'll burn until just the ashes
Remain in my mouth
Oh, I'll burn for you, girl

I'll burn until my last hope
Has crumbled into soot
And the book is closed for good

I'll burn for remembered kisses
And for summerlit afternoons
Turned black and bitter at the last

I'll burn for your laughter
My sweet song of flames,
Till my frame twists and buckles

I'll burn for this mad hope
And the wild courage you ignited
Till all the world is dark

I'll burn until I'm out of air
Right down to the wick
And the heart stops spitting sparks

I'll burn until you pinch me cold
Till your final choice is made
Oh, I'll burn for you, girl

lishesquex: (teaching)

Things are much better.  I think the emo from the last entry was mostly just stress.  I had a mountain of work to do this week and, now that I have gotten through it all, I feel lighter.

Today a really cool thing happened while I was teaching Period 5 Year 7 English.  I've always wanted to be the kind of teacher that randomly takes the kids on a walk somewhere to write poetry or something.  In reality, I tend to be more "stick to the plan, STICK TO THE PLAN" than that, but occasionally I let loose a little bit.  Such as today!  We were reading a poem called Rain by Hone Tuwhare because our topic for the lesson was about creating atmosphere based on the senses.  Then, as we were studying it, thunder started rolling and rain started spattering down lightly the way it does before a thunderstorm.  So I took the kids outside to the basketball courts and I had them stand there in silence for a bit just feeling the storm grow around them.  Then we went back inside and they wrote a poem about it.  Right around the end of the period, it started to really pour down. Wonderful timing, weather gods.

To add to the yay of that last lesson, it was the last period I have to teach for the next ten days.  Tomorrow I have a conference, and then the week after that I'll be on camp with the Year 7s.  It'll still be work, but it's a different sort of work.

The weekend is looking up too.  On Friday night, I'll be having one last dinner with Jackie and Xin before Xin goes back to England.  On Saturday, I'm going to the ANSA concert at my school with Shelley the Mermaid.  And on Sunday, McKinley.

lishesquex: (iconomicon - choices)

I really like reading Ann's blog entries.  Every time I follow a piece of advice that she gives, good things happen. For example, last year I used her post about the The 80/20 Principle to work on my own weight loss, and it worked.  Then she posted about boldness, and I made it my personal goal to Be Bold in 2013.  So far that has been most excellent advice because I probably wouldn't have emailed McKinley so confidently back in December, and I probably wouldn't have continued to pursue her through her silences, ignoring all the doubts and nagging voices in my head. And now, here is a post about being vulnerable

Here, have a quote:

"At the moment I'm trying to decide how vulnerable to be. Can you tell? I know being vulnerable is helpful to people. I think it can make us bigger in the world - the more open we are the more there is of us out there. But vulnerability takes strength and for someone who is up and down its frightening some days to think that people may think you weird. "

I know that, personally, being vulnerable is something I really have to work on.  It goes against all my natural instincts, to put myself out there, to show people my true desires.  I am too good at hiding what I really want - so good that I often miss out on things because nobody knows that it's what I want.

So far, I think I have been pretty good at being vulnerable with McKinley in that I've been quite honest with how I feel - such as telling her that I like her, and asking if our first date was a date, and letting her know that I would wait for her to resolve her feelings for her ex.  All of those exercises in honesty had an element of risk - of being rejected, of showing myself to be a lovesick fool. 

Now, there are two new paths before me and I don't know which one to take. One path involves waiting patiently for her to resolve her feelings for her ex. And I know from personal experience that the only thing that erases fixes? soothes? that kind of love is time. But waiting patiently feels too much like a cop out. Obviously I should give her a bit of time, but what if it's too much?  Timing has ever been my greatest enemy. If I wait too long, she may find someone else.

The second path involves being bold and vulnerable and crazy. It involves calling her out of the blue and asking if she wants to hang out on a weeknight, the fact that I have work the next day be damned. It involves bringing her an avocado as a gift. It involves the risk of being rejected, of being too forward, of perhaps placing her in the awkward position of declining my various overtures.  The second path is what I want, but I am afraid.

And yet, just because the second path is the one I fear and want, and just because I wish to challenge myself to be more vulnerable, doesn't mean it's the right path. Throwing myself at her isn't going to do anything if she's just not ready. But all my life I've been good at waiting, and I don't want to risk letting this hope, this opportunity, this passion die the slow death that I am far too familiar with.

What should I do?



[Edit: Making this entry public as an exercise in vulnerability.]

Half

Jan. 23rd, 2013 10:06 pm
lishesquex: (iconomicon - gia fence kiss)
I'm half wild with impatience, girl
Like a stubborn harpist in the underworld
Rushing, fumbling to life and light,
Hoping her heart follows close behind, and maybe she is
Maybe she isn't

I've had nothing for a month but spectre dreams
And I'm hungry like a January wolf
Like wind and fire and a long dry summer
I could eat you whole, girl; no hunger is sharper
Than a promise half-fulfilled

I've grown dear to the thought of you
And though my neurons know you well
My hands, my mouth, would like to be acquainted
Don't be a stranger, girl. Feed me a plan.
I'm half sick of shadows.

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