suddenly, everything has changed

the relationship between officer boyd and I was doomed from the beginning. he was an arrogant, pugnacious prick and I was a sassy, recalcitrant, irritated know-it-all. it was a power struggle from the first exchange of information.

the relationship between the 2007 pontiac g6 rental and I was doomed from the beginning. she was sterile and untouched. a bore, really. bulbous and dry. I was resentful to the fact that I would be her commander for the next undetermined amount of days... as my neighbor had recently rammed into my beloved fancy red sports car. therefore, she was undergoing plastic surgery at the longhorn collision center. the pontiac wobbled. yet, contrarily, glided. she was an energy sucker. she stripped me of my driving personality. of control.

holly’s 30th birthday bash and I had beef from the beginning. it was on Wednesday. I was poor and feeling antisocial. the theme was “moulin rouge.” we were encouraged to wear our best bohemian attire. I passed. knowing I would appear disloyal and poopie, I followed my instinct and my need to feel unshakeable regardless.

so what? I thought.

I will look good. damn good.

but… I will pass on the fishnets and bustier.

thank God.

no one wants to go to jail in stilettos and lace.

I left early. the crowd was getting to me. I was getting to me. I was teetering on the border of surrendering to the night. to hedonism. to the moment. to the possibility of what was to come. I was armed and ready to manipulate the crowd of friends, lovers and lookers to get the attention I wanted.

but, honestly, lately, I have been determined to strip my ego of its crown. so, I snuck out just after midnight. stomped away from the dangers of free booze, Him and the churning demands of my ego, my libido.

I rolled down the windows. took the long way home. my apartment’s walls had been shrinking lately. I cruised over the bridge. over the water. over the night.

I felt empowered by my choice to leave in the face of so many instantly gratifying possibilities. it's the little things.

I listened to esthero. she was only 18 when she recorded “breath from another.” one of my all-time top ten. she reached her peak. and quickly burnt out. schaddenfreude. and so it goes.

superheroes.
what would it take for you to see
what I have got?
I’ve got more than you notice.
open your eyes,
I cannot be
what I am not.
what I am not.
I'm not what I used to be.
I don’t know myself
from anyone else.
oooh. oooh. oooh. oooooh.
humph.

she goes on to make a very vaild and relatable point.

the g6 is quiet. unassuming. fast. I sped. I wasn’t sure where I was going. away from home. away from the celebration. I felt free. convinced that wherever I was going, was where I was meant to be. I always believe in destiny. fate. serendipity. my right to remain silent. or not.

the flashing lights in my rearview didn’t scare me. they peeved me. this was a disruption. I was in the midst of discovering something in my adventure. a surge of strength was emerging. a poem was being written on the body, the brain, the moment. human contact would impede this.

you were speeding.
oh.
have you been drinking.
I had a pint of dos xx.
I want you to take a filed sobriety test.
nope. I have the right to refuse and so I shall.
why would you do that? are you scared you would fail?
well, you make me nervous and these heels make me clumsier than usual.
I am going to show you what I want you to do and you decide if you want to do it. okay?
okay.
he demonstrated. he was pissed. I knew I had the right to refuse and this made his job much more difficult. I was taller than him. older than him and unwilling to fold. (now, I won’t blow sunshine up your asses, folks, my heart was racing. he was an asshole and he wanted nothing more than to see me stumble in my words, in my shoes, in my story. and, suddenly, i wanted nothing more than to run to the home that i had been avoiding.)
are you willing to take a breathalyzer?
no!
why not?
because I don’t have to!
humph…
ms. reeves, you are under arrest for driving while intoxicated.
fine.
is there anything in your car that we should know about?
it’s not my car. it’s a rental. (stupid car.) no, there’s not.

unknowingly, I had sped right past the new austin police department d.w.i. task force arrest camp.

in case you don’t know what this is, I will tell you.

at the corner of south first street and barton springs sits a police hot-spot. here, in the parking lot of the hotel, you will find, on random nights, an rv for booking and breath tests, a couple of tables decorated with several chief wiggum types: fat, dumb and ball-scratching, several rows of chairs, a dozen or so apprehended folks and a paddy wagon. the lawyer says it is for publicity. it says, "look what we are doing for you, austin!" cheers.

I sat under the intrusive parking lot lights with many, many others.
we were cuffed and fucked.
to my left was a girl in a denim mini-skirt.
she was a ut student. very drunk and she was crying.
I’m a good person, she whined.
of course you are, sweetie, I offered.
i was unmoved.
as insensitive as it sounds, i was truly, truly unmoved.
the guy to my right was aggressive.
he explained why he drives on clonopin and, then,
went on to sensationalize the details of his anger management therapy.

i was embarrassed for him. for allof us.

the cops looked bored, yet satisfied.

the last thing I ever needed last wednesday night, or any night, was to sit in a county jail cell for twenty four hours with nothing to do but think.

or, maybe, it was exactly what I needed. and so it goes...

I wore stripes. never slept or ate. no time for that. too much time for that. sleeping and eating were luxuries i would not allow myself. this was time for repent and suffering. i was a criminal, afterall.

I thought about every detail of my life up until that point. that's a lot of details. sheeesh. ergh.

they threw me a brown bag of bologna and pretzels as a 10 a.m. breakfast offering, I declined.

I peed once.

I learned where to buy crack on south congress from the county jail veterans… you know, just in case I ever feel the need to throw my life away and listened to the gals regale me with tales of the "man" winning once again. damn the man.

I waited. and waited and waited. and waited. then, I waited some more. oh! and then!!! i waited...

I stared at the yellow light. humming and relentless. I owned up to what I needed to (which was a lot) and tossed the rest to the wind as a wretched case of bad luck. i'm not sure if the scales of self-justice were even, blind, merciful or fair. i'm always too hard on myself.

I cried. for my pride. for my previously clean record. for my bed. for cosmo's empty food bowl. the embarrassment. the money. my fancy red sports car. the crack addicts. the sheriff’s department. the wife beaters and the pot dealers that i shared the courtroom with. the prison system. the sleep I needed. the growls in my belly. the daggers in my head. my dry, irritated eyes. my dying dad. my mother’s worry. my vacant apartment. my job. the jobs I wanted, applied for and not heard back from. for change. my bank account. my therapist and her reaction. my sister and her reaction. you and your reaction. my plan of escape.

for the few beloved friends that have, unfortunately, spent many, many, many hours, days, weeks, months, years in a prison cell.

for my ego. my loneliness. my hand-in-the-fire-technique to living my life. when will i learn?

I obsessed about the times in my life that I had felt fettered, imprisoned. literally and figuratively. there were too many. my heart accelerated. I thought about my choices. where they had lead me. how they create shackles. what it would feel like to be free. in that moment. in the moments to come.

then, in true form, I added to my suffering, by recalling every heartbreak, disappointment, trauma, loss, shock-to-the-system and poor choice that had ever played out in the story of Me.

so, I began counting. it was neccessary. to bring me back. to stop the tears. the shortness of breath. the desperation for redemption. forgiveness. escape.

I found peace in thoughts of you. whoever you are. if you are reading this, i am pretty sure I thought about you.

I thought about my body. naked beneath the striped county jail suit. i thought about the amusing nature of the prisoner attire i was wearing. i thought striped prison-wear only existed in movies like "oh, brother, where art thou?" i thought about homer and his quest.

and, although I was drowning in ugliness, I somehow still managed to feel beautiful. I thought about my breasts. my toes. my ass. my lips, eyes, pussy, legs, cheeks, fingers and belly. I felt alive. connected to the moment. I thought about sex. I had to. I had to imagine the physical: the intellect, the mind, was moments away from stealing the cold silence of the cell.

the voice in my head was ready to combust, melt down, freak-the-fuck-out. ready to send an s.o.s. to my mouth to scream. to curse the bitter county employees. the bologna sandwiches. my dry mouth. the long way home. the pontiac g6. my flawless art of self-medication, destruction. i know how i sabotage myself, but why?

the silence was piercing my eardrums. I needed to rebel. lash out. speak. bellow. for something. someone. all of us. everything and everyone everywhere. I needed you. papa. luther. jason. dacia. krissi. I needed krissi most of all. but she was fading fast.

krissi, come back! krissi!

krikri!!

so, I thought about poetry. being on stage, where I’m free.
exhilarated.
myself.

I thought about my performance at the paramount.
one thousand onlookers.
and me.
and a microphone.
I thought about how confident I was on stage.
how indestructible I seemed.
how I promised to never look back from that moment
or feel uncertain about the power of my voice.
that night, i wore black.
i always wear black.
that night, i wore nothing.

and, again, I thought about you. whoever you are, i most certainly thought about you.

I sat. stood. laid. crouched. twisted. curled. and balled-up into a tiny little krissi-fist. over and over. I needed to move or the brain would get me. a game of cat and mouse. I managed to stay one step ahead. somehow. some way. i'm more cat than mouse. always have been.

I counted again. made observations. plead my case over and over and over again to the jury of me. I carried on imaginary conversations internally. with you. with myself. with my mom. with Him.

I spoke. just to ensure my voice still existed. I said silly things. to make myself laugh. then, I felt ridiculous. and I blushed. which was vital. I needed, more than anything in that moment, to blush.

I moved. slowly. focused on the motions. the sensations. waited. waited. waited. listened.

i talked some more. in my head. i talked to god. to you. to anyone that would listen to an imprisoned girl’s subconscious howls. I rambled on about my library books and the most recent episode of project runway and how the cowboys really will win the superbowl this year. it is their fate and, above all else, I always believe in fate.

twenty four hours of non-stop conversation is overwhelming. especially when you are your only audience. but, i managed to hold my own attention.

eventually, I was released. an entire day had passed. it was thursday night. I had lost a weekday. a thursday. i had lost my privilege to operate a motorized vehicle. my lame, unloyal rental car to the impound and my sanity... almost. just almost.

rebecca saved me with a ride and a smoke. a warm smile and the aesthetic pleasure of seeing a human being NOT in uniform....and a house key... and a shared, nagging appetite for veggie burgers.

dacia and rebecca had planted gifts in my apartment: food for cosmo. lavendar chocolate. flowers. funny movies. a smoothie in the fridge. a "sorry about your arrest" card. ha!

how did i get so lucky?

that was then. and this is now. my world seems the same. it was only a day, afterall.

cosmo fat. apartment warm. cougar in the shop. g6 still in my possession...until tomorrow...

summer still here...scorching her memory into my brain with all of her merciless beauty.

still breathing. still resilient. spirited. ruminating. full of commentary, experience, idealism.

nothing much has changed externally. internally, what has changed... is everything…

and so it goes….

and so it shall be…

"driving home, the sky accelerates
and the clouds all form a geometric shape
and it goes fast
you think of the past
suddenly, everything has changed..."
-flaming lips