we must have made it…


Mission entry on this lovely Thursday. I am trying to lay low from my personal fictional writing for a while, and get back to reality. I was unaware how… involved… I had become in it. It was like, the one thing I wanted to do more than anything else in the world. In space or times… it was all I wanted to do was help that girl out. Be back there with her, living through her in a way, I loved it in that town, to be a citizen there and seek my place, try with all my heart to understand myself, watch out for others too… I only wanted what was best for my land.

And then to come back to myself on this starship. The sensation of that was… intoxicating to me! Psychologically intoxicating. Because when I thought about it… how incredibly funny to me… that here I am in hyper space… heading for an alien world…

and…     all I want to do…

is live on Earth. Continue reading “we must have made it…”

ship go.

I knew how helpful it was to be a part of a group. I had to make certain that I could trust a group. And I could, now that I wore out my welcome with one. That is why there are more than two people in existence. Because… sooner or later, everyone had a beef about something. And then, what can you do with two? It becomes a war leading to stalemate at best. We have ho have three, otherwise its a time out for everyone, you each go back to your little mats on the floor. And wait until God (or the Devil) brings us a third member to be a part of your fun game.

For now though, go on back and wait for further instructions.

So we did. Begin the long journey back home to Jenu. I mean, um… back to Earth.

You wanna know something else? Did I ever tell you about the time the Ice Maiden Fairies came to me in my bedroom in Baltimore, when I was eleven? Right? How they took me on a ride to other star worlds? And she told me when we got back to my room, “one day, Michelle, we will be back to take you on another ride, only… next time…

… we won’t be bringing you back home.”

And then I remember they did something to my head and made me forget everything. Until now. For some reason, I am starting to remember… and now they keep whispering this word… “ark… ark……. ark.” And I can’t tell if they are trying to impersonate seals, or… something else.

I think they are coming back to take me away again. Me and… anyone… who has had enough … First boat load leaves tonight.

Could be the… only boat. Continue reading “ship go.”

Every planet impresses me.

Ship log, April 27, 2022, Estimated ship time 23:237Z. I am trying to shift gears a little now. I needed to go there. I don’t know why, but I needed to make up those stories, and… identify as deeply as I could, with my main character. It was Michelle of Glendale, you see. She was the person I wanted to be. She was the girl I always dreamed I could be, had life been different. So I became her, I related to her like a sister. I felt what she felt… I swam in the same exact emotional rivers as she did. So, for all practical purposes, I became her. I really was her.

So… here we are, huh? You and me. Me out here in the grand design space. And you back there on Earth, my home town people. So here we are again, out here in space.

You know something? Come here… (and I turn to you and give you the little curly cue fingers, “come here… *and I smiled sweetly, just enough so that… you know I mean it.)… and you walk over slowly looking a heavenly rose, softly descending… descending…

Continue reading “Every planet impresses me.”

Michelle of Jenu

Personal journal, April 26, 2022, Glendale – I had a good session with my doctor yesterday. She said it was probably good for me to relocate, that my time in prison had been served. Although I never saw Glendale as a prison, she said that is what it was to her, that she hated the area. I was surprised to hear her talk like that, she being a licensed clinical psychologist and all. But she felt pretty strong about it. After we had gone over my anti-hallucinatory medicine regimen (she said I needed to up the dosage so I have to stop at the Walmart pharmacy on the way home)… After that she invited me to go for a walk with her outside the office building where she works in downtown L.A., and we strolled outside under the nice afternoon sun.

She pulled out her pack of Winston menthols and offered me one, “no thanks,” I told her. “Not really into that, Dr. Bev.”

“Suit yourself,” she said and lit up. After she took a few draws, she turned to me and said, “I hate this town, Michelle. Have I ever mentioned that to you?”

“Um…. no…. no you haven’t,” I replied.

“Well… it’s the dog gone truth. Continue reading “Michelle of Jenu”

I am coming home today.

Everything became a story for me. Once we left Earth, once we set our hearts on reaching another planet, it was all fiction and fantasy. Make-believe and flights of fancy. There was nothing to call solid anymore… I was lost and I was found. I was happy and I was sad. I was a nowhere girl, and queen of creation.

I was also under a lot of observation. My doc at the L.A. Center for Psychiatry said I needed a lot of what she called “remedial cognitive therapy.” Which is a fancy way of saying my brain was like an omelet that someone had spilled on the floor half way through cooking. Do you try to scoop it up and keep going? Or do you just slide it out the door and pretend it never happened? That is what she us trying to help me decide. So far, my money is on the door, then the yard, then hope the neighbor basset hound finds it.

Continue reading “I am coming home today.”

we called ourselves… Earth.

Where do stories go when they end? Do you just write “the end” and that’s the end of it? That always sounded cruel to me… I never want my stories to end, even if they need to end! Why? Because I love them, and also because I always have hope that if I keep them  alive, that one day I might stumble across a plot and discover why I started them in the first place.

I guess it could be that I care about her. She seems so alone, so frail, so in need of a man or a new attitude. It must be tough to try and exist on that forlorn world… The sad, sobby planet city of Glendale.

In many ways, I feel she is even more isolated than me. Look at her. Go ahead… Look! See her dark eyes brooding… see the men down the hallway ignoring her. Wishing she would get a better life so they wouldn’t be ashsamed to take her out. She cries in her little apartment like a little lost female sheep… baaa… baaa… Baaa-aa-a …so pitiful and pathetic … I almost wish I could go back to Earth just so I could save her, hold her in my arms… almost. But I have a job to do here on Mars. I can’t be bothered with her needs… It is time she grew up and realized that her life is hers to do with as she pleases. And if she wants to let it go down the Glendale drain, then that is her choice. I am certainly not going to stop her.

Glendale should build a home for sad single girls… Continue reading “we called ourselves… Earth.”

help me Wanda

I have good days and I have not-so-good days. What will this day be? I have no idea… maybe good. I hope it’s good. It probably won’t be that good.

So… many… years… of this. Tapping on little keys and wondering what for… wondering what my life should have been, should be, will be. And not a lot of answers.

Alone. Dreadfully alone. And that is the horrible truth that is inescapable. How… alone… I am. I thought life was a little party, a tea time paradise… “oh look! All my friends are waiting for me to share, to sing to them the happy songs. And they gave me pats on the back… atta girl, Michelle… you go get ’em baby… and then… one by one… ebbing, black tides… receding back into the gloomy horizon… they left.

See ya later alligator… they said. Continue reading “help me Wanda”