.nearly one year later.

My darling friend Killshot has brought LadyPussycat.com to her feet again. New caterpillar/flutter-by-night moth-me. Not what this once was, just what it will be...or rather continue to be since I have been writing behind closed doors for a while now.

.tonight i met coraline.

She's sat quietly on my bookshelf after an absorbing read or two after Neil Gaiman put his words into the world and Dave decorated the cover. I generally purchase anything by that duo instantly.
"Coraline" was fantastical and when I heard she was going to turn into a movie I didn't hold my breath (those who have passed out while holding onto rumors of "Death" understand).

But tonight she became real.

Thanks, Henry Selick. I always knew you were magical.

3D was completely the way to go...I'm glad my friend from work and her boyfriend insisted then dragged me out into the big, scary world. I might have missed this.

So beautiful.

.my agoraphobia.

I never thought I'd be one to say I'm agoraphobic, but I am. It happened after I survived the suicide attempt, but more precisely after I stayed with my "best" friend at her Wonderland Cluster-fuck of a home. Meth here-there-everywhere. Me, in a basement. Kept like a pet. I know she meant well, in that foggy brain of hers, but in Real Time it was affecting what was already fragile: my life. I left the house for real only twice during those two months when my friend from Utah dragged me into downtown Seattle, but the rest of the time I stayed in the basement of the house with a heart-shaped lawn. There was no escape. There would have been had I not been in an overdose cloud, but I couldn't think for myself. I was fine to play the robo-doll until the day I wasn't and brought the roof down yelling at her for dragging me into her crystal house of doom.

Now? I'm afraid to go anywhere. It's getting better - it's gotten better. However the home I'm staying in while I'm homeless is my safe-place, though I no longer feel comfortable here. Work is a safe place. I like it there. A few spots around it are all right. My bike is safe.

This week I went into a new CVS. That was big for me.

I'm afraid of the world - afraid of people. Afraid to trust and open myself to being vulnerable.

Slowly things change. There are people at work who I enjoy, as well as some close friends.

It's hard to pull through this agoraphobic crap - make all the phone calls to get me the help I need. Stand on my own again.

There are people who are in my safe-zone who scare me; terrify me, even. I don't know what to do about that.

The paramedics saved my life, so I'm here. For a long time I was angry at them and the ones who helped me keep a pulse...I didn't want to be.

I don't have those thoughts anymore. Thoughts of disappointment. I'm disappointed that I handled certain things a certain way, but I'm not disappointed to be alive. I guess.

It's one step at a time. If I look at the big picture it's overwhelming.

Not many people know I keep this blog. I hope my friends know that I love them and that they can stick with me through coping with this situation...I'd hate to lose any more friendships than I have, but I'm on total lockdown mode. I have to be healthy again.

I'm so afraid to go out.

.crash into me.

You've got your ball
you've got your chain
tied to me tight tie me up again
who's got their claws
in you my friend
Into your heart I'll beat again
Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock
and sweet you roll
Lost for you I'm so lost for you

You come crash into me
And I come into you
I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream

Touch your lips just so I know
In your eyes, love, it glows so
I'm bare boned and crazy for you
When you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream

If I've gone overboard
Then I'm begging you
to forgive me
in my haste
When I'm holding you so girl
close to me

Oh and you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show the world to me
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show your world to me
In a boys dream.. In a boys dream

Oh I watch you there
through the window
And I stare at you
You wear nothing but you
wear it so well
tied up and twisted
the way I'd like to be
For you, for me, come crash
into me

.what the red sox mean to me.

I cried when the Red Sox lost to the Rays during came 7 of the ALCS this year. Years ago I would have thought that was a joke future me was sending to present me to confuse me.

Somewhere I read that sports are so important to the people who watch them, that if you date a sports fan it would be a good choice to make your best effort to become involved in at least one of the sports your partner is into. It saves fighting, the other person from feeling neglected, and is bonding time for the couple. Yeah, over sports. It seems silly, but I learned it's actually fun! Shocking.

What neither of us saw coming, though, is that I would be the bigger fanatic.

I started watching the Sox during the middle of last season - and was thrilled to see them make it to the World Series. I couldn't wait until Spring, but what I didn't know is how hard 2008 would be from May on, and that the one thing I would have no matter what was baseball. The Sox. I'm a sports-monogamist and it's one sport and one team. While the Rays and the Phillies battle it out, I sit here, season over.

Why the Sox? I'm from Boston. Central Sq. If you've ever met a Bostonian you've met someone who is deeply dedicated to their city. I hated the Sox while I lived there - they got in my way during daily errands, clogged up the T with townies, and cramped my clubbing style on Lansdowne St. I spent so many days over so many years right next to the Green Monstah, but never, ever went to a baseball game.

I've still never been to a game - and being the monogamist that I am if and when I go to my first game it must be for the Sox. But will I see Veritek? Who knows now that the season is over and his contract is up. I can only hope.

But why did I cry? How did a loss actually make girlie-me burst into sobs of disappointment this year? I'll tell you why: because from June-on I have been homeless. All I have is my laptop, and through all the disturbing events that brought me to where I'm staying in Philadelphia I had mlb.com at my fingertips and I watched every Sox game via their Pong-option. I missed out on so much, but instead of waiting for the scores to emerge the next morning I sat at my laptop glued to the video game caricatures of each player. They were a few hours out of nearly every day where I could escape from life.

They gave me something to believe in.

One day the story of how I got where I am will emerge from my fingertips, but for now all that's important is that I am getting through it and I have Boston to thank.

Nobody would guess it to look at me - I've disappointed some friends by this new aspect of my personality, others have found it sweet and endearing. I'm not a competitive fan...never will I tell another person they "suck" for liking some team or city like I've been told. In my head I just think - you wouldn't understand unless I told you and quite simply, you don't deserve to know. All that matters is the Sox helped save my life.

...and that's good enough for me.

Until Spring, boys...

I'll still believe, even when I don't have pong to turn to every night.

.lily is the root of all evil.

You wouldn't know it to look at her right now. She's curled up on my lap, purring and happy, in the cutest white ruffled linen "button down" top ever made for an animal. However, Lily is the root. Because I got her so young she didn't know how to clean herself which drove Fog mad and five years later he's still grooming the princess. This is how he ingests fleas, gets tapeworms, and vomits kitten-sized fur balls around the house. While Lil looks beautiful all full and fluffy, it just wasn't meant to be in our new NW environment. Now she'll get the lion-cut year 'round. Here we are having a fun filled Saturday night.

.with my favorite little friend at his 4th birthday party.

it's something everyone needs to learn for themselves: just how much breath does it take to make one of those rolly party favors cause lift off?

.pitiful fog at rose city vet hospital.

Best vet services I've ever used...all the vets/assistants are excellent. This time up: Fog had tapeworms from eating fleas off of Lily while grooming her. EWWWwwww. Jay thought we should catch them and sell them since they're a currently trendy dieting rage, but instead I took him in to get medication. Everyone there wanted his soft Wonder Woman cat carrier - everyone, but Fog. He also hated his medication. Here, he's trying to sink into the examining table so nobody would notice him.

.last weekend in my life.

One of my very favorite people stopped by to eat vegan donuts with Jay and me at Voodoo Donuts, a 24/7 donut bakery here. Eric was traveling through with peta2 on the Alkaline Trio tour. Before the gig everyone hung at a skate park and made me feel old, except one of the bandmates was there, too, so I suppose he was oldish, too. We had fun wandering PDX...it's nice to have a visitor because the city looks different through their eyes and Eric is one of the most radiantly happy people I'm lucky to know.

.when what to my wondering eyes should appear?

Helloooo, lover! Betsey Johnson lands in Portland, Ore., and I couldn't be more thrilled.

.stop and smell the roses every day.

One of the hardest things about living in the City of Roses are the roses I have to clip every few days. It's awful, really. Fresh roses? Who likes those? ;)

The mix below comes from the two bushes I tend to - both are heavy with blooms.

Lily helps me when we go on walks together on the pink glitter leash and harness David got me for my birthday last year (mmK, well, he provided the $).

Roses remind me of Grandma.

.home.

Here we are, welcome to my section in the quadplex, in tres chic SE Portland. We have the bottom right side - the far left is the bedroom, behind that (not pictured) the second bedroom and bath. To the right, the living room and behind that my kitchen.

The pink rose bush is my baby. I tend to her several times a week. Her blooms smell like candy blossoms, but she has a spotted disease. First it was just her leaves, but now when her blooms start to age the dots appear. I have measle-roses. Go figure. Even so, I tend and tend, like the rest of my garden which runs all along the front. Anyone could do it, but they don't. It's very relaxing. The silver chairs are comfy. They were given to me by two totally separate and random people I knew in Norfolk, Vir. Nemo is buried in that mess of weeds I've been cleaning up, with his wooden cross wrapped with dried winter roses. Here is a peek - there is more to come. I love it here, here in my home. I especially love it inside, but the courtyard is where Lily and I go for romps on her pink glitter leash and harness. The kind old man across the way calls out, "Walking the cat? Yeah, it's a good night for it. Is she eating her grass?" They are sweet.

.staying alive on the west coast.

Photography is poetry in motion
When the lens touches my eye
I am not here
They are not there
My heels click and the rubies sparkle
A tear might drip to the concrete below
But with a pinch
And with a breath

...breathe...

I am still here
In motion
Creating poetry

Broken flowers, Hawthorne St., Ore., 30 May '08

Blue bricks, Hawthorne St., Portland, Ore., 30 May '08

.welcome to my arena.

"Home Is", The Egyptian Club, Portland, Ore., 24 May '08