Rachel Lee-Carman - Arch(r)iv(al)(e)s

Hello. I am Rachel Lee-Carman

& these are some projects i am working on.

Arch(r)iv(al)(e)s

12.24.11

The teachers are telling me this is a part of the journey. And the teachers are wise, and I need to learn from them.

I want continuous ecstasy. I want a constant stream of joy to flow through me at all times. I want to be standing in the Flow and Above It. I want to fill myself to my heart's content. Lame Eagle, filled so full of Antelope I cannot fly away. I cannot lift the ground.

I am Black Mouse, from the South. In a Cave filled with Bats who speak in inaudible secrets. I need to be North. I need to be West. Seek a Higher Vision. There is a Love for me out there. It is the entire Universe. It is the Mother. It is Earth. It wishes to give me answers, but I do not sleep well and have forgotten Dreams and am without the Courage to roam Far (not far from my whiskers).

Is it Christmas Eve? Did I forget that? I keep forgetting. I want to see my family. I want to be with my lovers. I want to be with my friends and be dumb and drunk and I want to dance.

12.17.11

Writing today, but nothing good. Plath would write for pratice quite often. I wonder if she wrote about herself the way I do all the time. Dumb.

All kinds of wrapped up in this game, which isn't a game, but I feel like at any given time I'm winning or losing. And I need to not see it as a game at all because it's just a distraction from something more real and more valuable.

12.2.11

Dropped the two pills that have wired me through this last six months. The Celexa and the Cobra. My kitchen therapist dropped some truth bombs into the drain so I went home, set-up the bed (which fit perfectly), tore the Christmas lights off the wall and as Jon played video games in his house for the last time, I decided to change things. (starting by taking down the old pony posters)

"And with many a strong drink in her belly she walked away (but you know I ran) heart full. "

New notebook day.

I feel stuck. I pretend everyone is having the same problems. I know I am supposed to be working on the zine. I know I need to be writing. This is just a warm-up. Four minute warning.

I never get writers block because I only write about myself. Virginia Woolf would break me if she cared.

Two women brought to King Solomon the heart of a man they both loved.

"This heart belongs to me," both claimed.

Motioning to a guard, King Solomon ordered,

"Cut the heart in half for both to have."

The soldier seized the heart by the veins and swung his sword.

The heart was struck and bobbed like a pinata.

"Use a cutting board," one woman suggested.

"And a serated blade," added the other.

A board and serated blade were brought from the kitchen and the heart was cut in half.

Problem fucking solved.

And that is the story of Wise King Solomon.

סוף

11.27.11

Alli's invitations today, elbow deep in the cooling innards of her wedding.

Talked to Dall Friday, left a voicemail for Peter Saturday, Erica came over last night and I was tucked into bed discussing strap-ons with Hayley. All of this under the umbrella of what it takes for relationships to work, really. And why they don't and how they can.

Starting from the very beginning.

Examining the premise. Examining some sources.

Going to be more scientific minded this time around.

Pay careful attention to empirical evidence available to me.

Can't seem to stop listening to Towne's Van Zandt today who is breaking my heart over and over. Leaving me for the road at the end of every fucking song.

Texted James, three in the morning, (woke up sad) hurt tooth and tummy and couldn't stop thinking about him messing around with Nella. He was awake too. Looking out the grand South facing window at the dark and clouds outside no doubt. Telling me he hadn't and that he worries for me these weekends. Sleeping with tap-shoe two-year-old Lavendar who snores and I wrote how I wish I could sleep with a child (never have) but my battery dies. Dream about dragging Kelly out of his car behind cement slap punching her with weak sleep dream fist and not maybe we can be friends again. And maybe I need my ass drug behind a cement slap and beat down.

I have no good excuses for myself. Excuses aren't worth much after you turn 25 anyway.

11.14.11in such an inappropriote state for a heavy moment and I'm not sure if I've been squandering my time on this earth for the last few years. I've just been so wrapped up and I can't hold still and I can't help but wonder if I am hurting myself in all this running about. Hurting myself for the long run. The longevity, the rest of the race. There is this well of energy in my that keeps my leg shaking and my sleep high and short. 11.6.11Dear SHadow Alive and well.Angel has been smoking, pretending to, anyway. "Hey Mama," he says leaning on the couch. Adriana asks him, "where did you learn this?" Two-year old cowboy already in the practice of self-destruction. He just can't explain.Mom told me about a study that discovered children who stay up late are at higher risk to commit suicide as adults. "You always stayed up so late..." as we got on the bikes to ride home after beer and fajitas. Doing projects and little things, late into the night. It's been a year since I began taking the pills and the decision has been since a good one. Looking at the parking garage, tallest building in the downtown next to the Oxford I'm telling to this to Syd, wrapped in a tweed cape, telling her before the pills I couldn't stop thinking about suicide. Wouldn't have done it, but thinking about it all the time was so boring, such a distraction when I wanted to think about other things. It never felt like it belonged in me, the blue heart, like an arm coming out of my head, it was always in the way. Now I just get sad. And I fucking cry. And I'm fucking happy. And as much as it can be, life feels like it ought. Tonight I will be fed. Tonight I want to be in my warm bed and wake up to a glowing grey sky, gift of daylight savings time. I think I'm in love with a fictional man in a Lykke Li video who cries when he reaches the ocean. Though I am not so in love with barky Depeche Mode intro to said song.I want to hold this little joy in my heart for as long as I can lie to myself. 10.22.2011Tenho Saudades TuasWhat is this constant longing? Waiting without sitting still for a moment. Extending my body as far as it will go without breaking apart. They are trying to get people to the stars, make a light sail which a laser pushes, pushing out in to space at lightspeed. They say our bodies will become infinity at that speed. Or nothing at all. How can we say such big things? How far can we go?Watched a video where we hover the Himalayans and shoot off into the known universe, encapsulated in a bubble, the extent of our knowledge as humans. It reminded me of how terrified I was as a child watching Star Trek and being so afraid for everyone, so far from earth... The best part of the video was returning to earth. Is it still there? I kept asking myself - a hand wringing moment and there it was, in the glow of our great star. I wanted to be taken to my little house on my little street into my little bed with my little cat. I wanted to be home again after going so far .I don't want to leave this earth, not even for a second. I want to live out every moment here. I love this place.Watching old Jay Rowan videos, been talking to him today. I know he's not out there. He is in our hearts. There is no where else to travel but here to find what I need the most. What love shapes from us. Christians believe they are going somewhere else. There is nowhere else to go. 09.01.2011Left the island yesterday. Feels so far away already. Took naked pictues of ourselves in Centralia. Places in Washington I cannot pronounce. 8.12.11I write love letters and he makes me bacon and eggs. Been settling my mind in the fantasy of what happens next. Holding still to realize the rapids are so strong, been flowing for so long we forget we have choices. Ever tell you the one time I had a lucid dream? Must've been seventeen, realized I was dreaming and took control, became the storyteller of my own dreamworld. Found myself in a hallway and lost imagination. So Billy appeared and I debated having sex with him because I could have any kind of crazy sex I wanted. But I lost the imagination and realized my imagination was tethered to my experiences. So we floated away and I woke. Wish I was dreaming in my waking life, let go all control. Life like a lucid dream, I am in the storyteller and I follow my heart and lose imagination waiting for others to fill in parts of the story. Maybe this is why I can't have orgasms.We got the sky to talk aboutAnd the world to lie upon.Feel the heartbreak so real. Hope it takes away from the real big bust in the coming times but I suspect this not to be true.7.28.11All relationships are controlled by the persons who cares the least.And before my eyes we are shifting. To be in love or to have control. Sabotage to the top of the totem pole where I can smile down and I have my way."You'll never write a song for me," I told him. Artists only compose pieces for ones they cannot have. We could say that's what most art is dedicted to, the desire to be loved. How I write write write my hearts unraveling. How ugly is the vision, how beautiful the words. Just to do enough convincing to turn the power back to myself. I will love him least. And he will love me more. And I will be stronger than him. And he will write me a song because he cannot have me. There is no other way.Today is a fight anthem. A rally. Today I need to throw down and be slightly less in love. And I said it. "You told me that you wanted it. Always talking in a pretty voice."Of course it won't work, I'm not that way.7.15.11Virginia Woolf continues to shame me at my need to start every sentence with the first person pronoun. *Sigh* It can't be helped. In my twenties and maybe it's part of the process. So much fucking ego, really. Cherie made a good point the other day when we discussed female relationships in the kitchen at work. I was wondering about them and how to approach others with a question in which to illuminate their personal feelings on the matter. Cherie observed how interesting it is that the nature of (or the reservations) of female relations given my age is that we are all bent on mating and finding mates. Female relationships often hold the brand of competitivism. Something Nattie said was similar to this sentiment. She called our society "patriarchical" which pits women against one another. Iw ish we were all whole. That's the conclusion I came to. Been wearing eye-liner and generally gussing up for this new boy who is more social than the others but more reliable. Teaching him to smile more and he is teaching me to be a man, Reading Scott Carrier's Running With Antelope outloud. Such a great book."I realized I was in love and that everything would be different."Read it last year on my three day solo trip into the green and into the desert. Taking vitamin supplements. Caring for children .Taking photographs. Enjoying the hell out of summer.

3.12.11People seem less dumb these days. It's me I know, not them. The shift of perspective. Leaving the city behind I guess. What city? you ask. The city-mind. The mind of movement and bumping and "future tripping" as they say. Maybe it's the yoga or the medication. Haven't had garlic in weeks. Drink a lot of water. Those kind of things. Maybe it's making people less dumb. Makes them more likable. We've been too angry for too long. Been watching Lost this week.

2.28.11 It's 20 minutes until March. Just sent off the check to my landloard today at the post with the note, "sorry, if this is late. February went by too damn fast." Minus the damn part, mind you. What the hell did I do this month? Did I dye my hair blonde this month of last month? Gary turned 21. I started a forty-day yoga/meditation program. Learned my dosha (pitta - the fire dosha) and started eating to correct my imabalance. No garlic, tomato, onion, or spicy things - my four core dietary staples. They talk a lot of this idea of "shift" in the studio I practice at. Wake up easier. Energy is greater. Other things. I am happy. Supremely happy. Buddha happy with traces of Shiva happy where I burn things up just to create again. Met a girl. Leesh. We had a goodbye Hamster party yesterday for her surgery tomorrow. Long story. It's about girl stuff anyway. Went to Mcmenamins to watch Tron and went to Brad's house sitting house to watch the Oscars and eat Spring Roll Phad Thai. Joined a society of dancers and musicians, a vertitable troupe of circus magic and I believe 2011 will be about dancing and music and love. Dug myself out of snow several times and cursed the lazies who didn't shovel the sidewalks as I walked to yoga. Imagined the following award system for the houses.Coal: Someone who does not shovel at all.Flaming shit in a bag: Someone who shovels their driveway but uses the sidewalk as their dumping ground.Warm apple pie: Someone who shovels the sidewalk.Warm apple pie with a birthday candle in it: Someone who also salts the sidewalk.

1.23.11Tired. And I've nothing today save for a trip to Cuppa Yo and cleaning the house. Boiling water in the sauce pan and soaking a rag in it to put under my arm. Damn cysts. My back feels off because my left shoulder is hunched forward to not irriate the cyst. Hopefully it will go away and I won't need it lanced. Why are medical things the topics we like to bring up? Or is it just me? The cat bit me yesterday. She was in black-out-adrenaline mode fighting with another cat and I tried to scoop her up but she was so terrified and lashed out. Her skin was tough and her hair stood in spikes as I restrained her until we got in the house. We had a talk about it after and she remembers nothing about biting me. In other news I did an interview with ex-boyfriend about advice on how to break-up with a person and he said lots of words and ended with expressing optimism with humanity's ability to discover what love is. Then he told me not to print a damn word he said for fear of muddling it. I wouldn't have done a very good job with it anyway. He did say, "don't yell."And yesterday after trying to go off pills for fear of spending too much money at the doctors and hating therapy and the whole bullshit I had an adult tantrum over the house being a mess being so ugly, poor and bitten by my own cat. Plus the painful cyst. Pounded the ground with my fists and feet while laying on my back and started taking them again.

11.28.10 It goes. At least that much can be said. We forgot that it did. For awhile there wasn't much going at all. You might assume it never would and then it did. And we change and move away and get new jobs and meet new friends and we think, "how could it have ever been not?" Splashing through the stagnant pools we once thought would keep us there forever now just puddles on the way. There will a time again when we'll want it to be sane. "Make sense like it used to," and the bath water will get warm and keep us. There's a ebb and flow going on, isn't there? I am grateful. Moving to a single room with low ceilings in the witnertime seems like a silly idea but I'm doing it. And Kevin has a flat above a pizza place with high ceilings that comes with pet mice, a cowboy hat with a long feather and a tupperware container.

November 2010 Two yoga classes today. One in the morning and one as the sun was setting. In between I filled my medication and wondered: is today a great day because I wasn't working and was with my mom and could do whatever I want? Or is today a great day because I've been on antidepressants for a month? But this question doesn't make me sad because I am on medication. Smiling as the day gets shorter and the cold weather comes in. It's a wonderful wonderful life. The heat is on and I have a new camera to take pictures of my cat. October 1st, 2010Been feeling very lost lately. It's because I have lost myself. Pedaling up the eastside 8th street on the touring bike my parents lent (lended) me for the summer I realize the bad omens have been a warning. My bag is stuffed full of obligation and now I realize it wasn't that I didn't have time, but something worse and more difficult to reverse. What I wanted was to be hurt. I wanted to be broken. But why? There is just too much good around - the sun is warm, the air is good, and even though I don't understand it, the flow of life, the movement, is going going going.Spiritual annhilation. I don't know what to say. This summer has been awful. It's been the best summer ever, utterly ignored. One of the last good summers. Ah.

*tenho saudades tuas*

rachel lee-carman

rcarman@ymail.com