26

Self-Portrait at Twenty-Six:
Lake Wanda Rieta

1. the ocean

There's this photo that John took when we were on the beach in
Pensacola. In it I am alone, but there were several people there. You
might guess that.

I was goofing with Bejay and I was drinking and generally having a nice
time. In the photo, I'm smiling, not wide and posed, but easy and with
a note of comfort.

I'm holding a drink, I've turned and spread my arms as if to say:
"Welcome to my beach." or "What, this old thing, I just threw it
together, but it's lovely of you to mention it."

2. who's that girl?

In it, I have on these huge sunglasses that I love, (mostly because
other people find them ridiculous). I have on this t-shirt that I love,
(for almost the same reason as the glasses) that says : "Sworn to Fun,
Loyal to None".

I suppose they both are actually ridiculous really, but with my cool
haircut (a slight suggestion of a Mohawk, the result of a compromise
between myself and my hairdresser), and with my cool piercings, and my
easy smile- well, it makes a for a portrait that anyone years from now
would look at and say: "Wow, that guy looks like he was having a good
time, he looks like someone I might liked to have known."

3. party like it's your birthday

Tomorrow I will be twenty-seven years old.

I live in Summerville, Georgia on Lake Wanda Rieta Rd.

I work at a standard office-type job. Absolutely nothing special,
except that the handful of people I work with find me exceptional.
That, I love, especially since I am the laziest among them by
far.

I come to work latest and leave earliest. I take my full lunch hour.
Everyone else seems to really be committed to their work. I've never
seen anything like it in a private company, much less a family
business.

When I arrive they are working quietly, when I leave it is the same. We
all have the same schedule. There is no overtime paid. I don't know why
they do it.

I told them the other day: "I will never do more than what is expected
so long as the result is only cash flow." I can't understand why
someone would work themselves to death so that other people can make
money.

I'm not going to give up an inch of myself for someone else's
machine.
I've got my own machine.

4. rip rake scrape turn

I do a lot of sales over the phone. I'm really crap at it.
I don't know much about the stuff I'm selling and the people I talk to
can tell.

My biggest obstacle in improving my performance is that I just don't
feel like doing it.

5. the fountain

The same could be said about my relationship. I'm dating this guy
called Carlos. He lives in Atlanta so we only see each other on the
weekends.

He seems to really love me, and I do love him, we just have different
ideas of what exactly "love" is and means.

He says he needs more from me, but there isn't any more. It makes me
very uncomfortable to think about that, but it's absolutely true.

He sees more in me that there is. To him I'm some vast untapped
reservoir of love and loveliness, but I'm not.

I'm just myself- a steady trickle of love. I'm not the Hover Dam, I'm a
garden fountain. (Do excuse my reduction of feelings into a metaphor
reminiscent of pop lyrics- but it is appropriate- trust me.)

6. still crazy after all these years

It's quite nice to be around my family again after spending so many
years away from them (I moved out of my parents' home as a teenager,
then moved overseas). Now I live with my mom and step dad. I'm enjoying
getting to know them again.

My father remains crazy as hell and seems to be getting worse. I'm
afraid our relationship is deteriorating beyond the point of no return.
But we are so much alike that I don't think anything can be done to
improve the situation.

Here's what I mean: he doesn't have the strength to not be drunk and
crazy so he can close the distance between us, and I don't have the
strength to ignore his drunken craziness so that I can close the
distance between us.

It's killing me. It's no exaggeration to say:

"I'm Dying." Or "I'm Drowning."

7. a name for a collection of symptoms

And that's to say I can see myself becoming more like him all the time.
I seem to be perpetually dissatisfied. I find joy in so very little of
life.

I often feel far away from everything around me, and have trouble
hearing or seeing things right next to me. I sometimes feel pain if I
am touched by someone else, even very lightly.

I am aware that these feeling are absurd, but there they are.

8. moments before sleep

I remember being very young and first feeling the dark dread of knowing
that when it is time for me to die, there will be nothing but blackness
and my sense of self will disappear, I cried and clawed for something
to hold on to.

My dad told me to try not to worry, that those feelings were just part
of growing up, and that eventually you stop having them and get used to
the idea of mortality.

I know now he was lying. He never got used to them, I can see it in
him.

And every night when I go to sleep I still have those thoughts.
And I feel the universe close around me.
And feel nothing but futility.
And I'm twelve again.
And nothing helps.
And nothing works itself out.

There is no flood in sight. There aren't even any clouds.

9. a gift for next year

I like lying so that I can see both the water and the sky- whether it's
the ocean or the lake.

I like the wind in fields or bamboo forests and I like the sky at
night.

I like feeling very small and invisible. Writing makes me feel small
and invisible. But only as long as I'm doing it. I really have no
intention of being famous. I just don't want to have to stop.

I am not vast. I am not an ocean.
I am small. I am far away. I am difficult or impossible to see.

I am twenty-six.

07/12/04