Wrote this in the backseat of my dad’s car while driving with him to Houston. June 5, 2010.
Lying curled in the back of daddy’s car/melting sticky sweet in Texas sun
He’s talking bout the movie theaters closing/his voice rolls over me
A Simple Day/knowing that as long as it is sticky and my daddy’s voice covers
and protects me/i will never grow old/or too tired to relax.
Written January 12, 2011.
Juicy seeds to tempt a goddess to Hell-
A bitch to get out their fleshy shell.
You cut it open and
maroon blood runs over on your hands
And it pops and squirts and
stains like love.
Hard to get out of your dress, off your skin,
out of your heart.
But I’ll still eat it by the spoonfuls-
and chew every hard bit for the
juice within.
I know my hard bits have made me stronger
than Atlas
bring on what may-
I will not shake.
I am my own muse and
shield.
I wrote this on December 3, 2010 for a blog that I kept pretty consistently from 2010-2012. I was following a prompt from a blogger I liked that said “Write a letter of love to yourself to read in one year.
To my lovely friend Rachael,
Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing right now, I want you to take a moment, look around and appreciate all the wonderful things you have in your life. Then think about what you did to bring about those wonderful things. You’re a pretty cool chica.
You are beautiful. Yes. Beautiful. You have such a sense of style and class. Your smile could light up a room. I know you’re feeling upset because you’re not the size you used to be and like a bit of a failure because you think you should be so much thinner than you are, but stop right there. Do you really want to let yourself worry about that? You may not look like a model, but you are spunky and unique and something truly special. And your sense of style! You dress adventurously- the vintage jewelry and the necklaces and brightly colored nails. You never blend in with the crowd- and that’s a good thing.
I know you’re feeling anxious and sad about not having everything figured out- I know you get the blues sometimes. But don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re doing fine and remember- you are so much stronger than you feel in your darkest moments. You know this. You’ve been through bad stuff before and you’ve always gotten through it.
I hope you’re still pursuing all your dreams- you have such great big ones and I can’t wait to see them all come true. And don’t fuss too much over the things you’ve left behind- don’t let yourself guilty over not playing harp really anymore- don’t let yourself get down because you can’t do everything. No one can- remember? You’re doing all you can day to day- and that’s all anyone can ask for. You are amazing.
I want to remind you of how when you were a teenager, you posted Christmas lights up all around the top of your room. Sometimes you’d turn on the lights before you went to sleep. With your glasses off, everything looked fuzzy and beautiful and magical. I hope you always keep that view of the world- if you just step back and look at it again, it’s such a lovely place to be. Never lose your sense of wonder.
Continue believing the best of people- no matter how many times they disappoint you. This is a beautiful trait- don’t let anyone put you down for it. There’s nothing wrong with being an optimist.
You have a giving heart. Keep giving back in whatever way you can- whether it’s driving folks to the doctor, collecting pink yogurt lids or buying a skateboard for a little boy. You know that however little you may have, you are truly rich when you help others.
Have I ever told you how funny you are? And witty. And smart. You find the humor in anything and the joy in the everyday. You’re like a little kid, but really, that’s a good thing. Never never change.
You can do anything if you set your mind to it- with you, not even the sky is the limit. Maybe the Milky Way- but who knows? Still haven’t written that novel? It’ll happen – I know it. Traveling still on the agenda? You’ll make it happen. I know you can scale mountains and conquer the world- you are smart enough to make it happen.
Never ever forget that you are someone special and that a lot of people, including myself, love you and think you are awesome.
<3-Rachael
Good morning New Year-
it’s so lovely to meet you
in this crisp morning street
sitting on my luggage outside a crappy coffee shop
waiting for a bus to catch me up into
January.
—
Nothing worse than that feeling
you get when you realize the cute guy
you’ve been eyeing on the subway has been
surreptitiously spitting every few minutes into a coffee cup
he’s holding.
I don’t even know if I can make a metaphor out of that.
—
Discovery of the day:
Seeing a guy dressed in a Navy uniforn
all slovenly and undone
Actually Offends Me.
Me- the champion of free speech and expression.
But also the girl who cries at patriotic songs
that I freely acknowledge are propaganda.
I guess I’m not as cynical as I thought I was.
—
Overheard on a subway:
“Straight guys high five like they’re tired.
We’re trying to be like them!”
I am amused.
The trash can reveals
how much coffee I’ve been drinking
all day.
Strewn torn pink packets and slight
droplets of half milk on the bag.
(I try to make myself feel better about my
consumeristic caffeine driven waste
by reusing my stirring straw.
Aren’t I just so green?)
I hope the janitor doesn’t judge
me.
—-
I’ve worn makeup shadows on my headphones
from wearing them every day
at work while inwardly smiling, laughing,
crying and saying all the things to myself
that I might never say out loud.
To me,
I am the funniest person I know.
—
24?
I’m now
24?
When the hell did I get so old?
I put my brand new lipstick on
it’s free of cruelty, they say and it smells like vanilla
only to leave marks of it on my coffee cup
two fake sugars and a cream – like every day
no lover’s lips to turn fuschia
I have been very unkissed lately but I don’t think I mind, for once
no handkerchief to leave a romantic stain on
I lost my grandmother’s handkerchief back in September
no one to notice or see
I spend all day in a closed-up box – I could work naked for hours and probably no one would notice
but as I wipe the marks from the coffee cup
it was a birthday present, you know – my older black coffee cup never showed stains
this is for myself and no one else
and there’s something lovely about that
—
And so I wait.
My impetus to do something is already gone
And there is nothing to do now but
to see what comes next to change my life.
But I want it now.
I want it all now.
I want the books
and the knowledge pouring into my head
I want the language to speak the things I long to
understand.
And it’s a decision I long to make
but cannot yet
I have no Cinderella shoe
and so I chew on my fingers absently
the way I always do when I am
nervous
and leave dashes of dark pink across my pale skin
as if I have already been bleeding a long long time.
I dressed up today in a
new blue dress that swings out around me
and makes me feel lovely
red tights and a little bit of heel
and a gold chain round my waist.
I wear makeup and lipstick almost every day-
but really
por che? por che?
I want to scream.
Who is it all for?
No one, nothing, no reason.
except the momentary pleasure I get by
looking in the mirror
until I realize how inexorably alone
I am.
——–
I often think of good songs to die to.
I’ll hear something really melancholy on the radio
and think
“Now this would fit.”
Or some terribly happy song from
a commercial for laundry detergent
and realize that it would be something ironic
to play in the background of a suicide.
I could make an entire mix tape
although really, who uses tapes any more?
of songs I have considered leaving the world to.
But it’s nothing, nothing much-
just a thought –
I’m okay-
I just like putting a soundtrack to my life sometimes
And it’s not like anything else momentous
will be happening any time soon.
They don’t know it-
and they wouldn’t understand it if I told them
But my toddling little nieces are the names I put down in boxes
of where things would go if ever something bad
happened to me – where money would flow from my
coffin into their coffers.
I have no one else to leave it to after all –
it’s not like my pet rats would ever use it.
I wonder if those names will ever change or if that
will always be the only beneficiary relationship I have.
Written March 28, 2010.
I took a shower and
buried myself under water so hot it made my
arm hairs stand on end and then they
looked like bits of pale light covered with
dew drops
And I thought of Dali
how I wandered through his theater in Spain last
May and laughed and chuckled with his paintings
like they were old friends of mine
and shook my head and said to myself
oh Dali, you are such a fucking weirdo.
I was just there- Man, I was just there.
And my new rats are sleeping in one corner of my room
plopped on top of each other's fuzz- nose in tail and
face in belly-
while my older rat Monty on the other side of the room
naps alone- his own head curled under himself as
if to take in the warmth of his own body so he does
not feel so apart and separate
As I too have curled under the bed sheets at night
until my knees hug to my breasts and I can
hear myself breathing and pulsing and I
am not so trapped anymore.
But I still remember waking up above London streets
with the smell of sausage from the sandwich store downstairs
in my nose and the fluffy cloud like
duvet wrapped tight to my arms and then I would
turn and see if she was still sleeping on the other side of the room
and maybe I would fall back to think a bit before I
tried to tackle the day.
And we were just there, dammit, we were just there.
And I am drip drying now in my chair painted green-
hair longer than it's been in a while cold on my back
and my pink and purple fingernails tapping over the keyboard
like what I says makes a difference
They say that Dali was asked to come to a costume party once
dressed as his dreams and when they opened the door he
was standing there in the garb of death.
God, what an amazing weirdo.
And I was just there, girl, I was just there.
Written in October 2017.
I just found this while going back through some of my old notes. I like it. I need it sometimes.
5:29 a.m.
I am lost in the moment between asleep and awake
where I find myself dreaming of time to sleep, time to eat
A place to lay my head and a day to do nothing in
without feeling guilty or depressed or like I’m getting behind.
It’s getting to the point where I
can’t see who I can trust anymore
All these people trying to maneuver
Me- trying to get inside my head
I, a confirmed idealist,
cannot even comprehend the
malice I see around me sometimes-
How can it even exist?
I still, despite everything,
firmly believe that
in every person
there is a spark of good
It’s just that in the digging for the good
I too often seem to be overcome by the dark
and swamped over and tramped down
until I am breathless, on the ground.
And I am so frightened by these Masks-
These Masks around me worn by people
weaseling around me and trying to get me
to betray my ideas, my ideals,
while they are smiling and talking and laughing-
before they turn to malice, a slithering green.
And I do not like it,
one bit.
Yet I am grown and I am strong and
I can see through the charade, most times.
I know I trust too easily but I
try not to trust you too easily
And I wish I could trust that easily
without being so afraid of being misled.
And I am tired and I am lost
And I am longing just to go home
to get away from these lies, this hate
these broken bits of my heart on the ground.
Yet, I refuse to become stone-
I’d rather stay loving and trusting and believing in the world
and be hurt thousands of times over
than be one of those who is so hard to everything
that they can’t truly see anything
and thus, die blind to life’s true joy.
So deceive me, mislead me,
try to break me, if you can-
Know that I see you, your mask
for what you are
Your presence, that knowledge-
will never beat me down
Or change who I am
I will go on loving and living
and being blissfully a part of this dancing sphere
And in the part of morning
where sleep hangs in my eyes and
Dreams slip in and out of reality-
I will dream of a time to rest, to sleep,
and a lovely lovely world.
Written July 25, 2007. A half decent poem by 19-year-old Rachael. I actually quite like this one.
I'm still awake and
Life's not easy and
Sometimes it hurts to look at the pictures
you know.
I said I would sleep and
I sit here thinking of the future
glamorizing the past and
it's sad and sweet and beautiful
you know.
I doubt I'll dream I'll
just fall into oblivion-
It's a dream just to kiss you dear.
Yet it's so easy to go back and remember
these stolen moments in another life.
A playground, a pond,
A rooftop, a fountain with water streaming high
These are places where I loved life and dove deep
into something wild and unknown.
No regrets.
And these ghosts- I have buried-
Until they became reality - I can see them now.
it's flawed but good and good but flawed-
I am past my idealizations of these boys
and see them now as men.
These stories I have written
with a pen called teenage love and loss
have taught me and now
I love to read them and remember-
even if it is I alone.
-And It is nothing wrong for you dear- nothing wrong-
just me trysting with old friends-
my heart likes to think on how it leapt and flew-
Just know and think and remember these things-
when you told me stories by a running creek
when you danced with me in a movie theater
when you held me close as deer drew close to watch
when you kissed me while I held your car keys ransom
and lord, when you shouted- shouted my name
racing through a crowded party just to find me
you captured a place in my mind and soul
a place that is not emptied or broken by your absence
but strengthened with the lengthening memories of these-
all these boys who caught my eyes and stole my heart
in windswept moments through time.
Finally giving it back-
intact and whole and beating so strong-
so one last -you dear-
could hold it and keep it safe.
So now it's a Thank You for these
as I head away from Neverland and
towards the city of unnamed streets and
sometimes I dream of kissing you dear
you know.
I said I would sleep and
my limbs are weary and
now I put this child and all-
all of these to rest and
life's not easy but it's beautiful
you know.