IT’S LIVE! I’m proud to present to you my second recap, and first major story, for No Fear of Missing Out, covering Desert Hearts! Relive the experience as it chronicles the journey from the point-of-view of a first-timer at the festival. I.E. – Me. Click the link below to read all about it! #housetechnolove #wearealldeserthearts #journalism #photojournalism #festivalbabe #festiephotog #dance #connect #love http://www.nofearofmissingout.com/desert-hearts-festival-2015-house-techno-love/
Hey AmandaGet out of bedI know you’re tiredAnd there’s an anchor in your headBut Hey AmandaLook outsideThe sky is clearThere’s no need to hideSo hey girlI know you’re not feeling your bestBut there are friends who love youAnd support you on this questSo get on upYou have work to doIt’s time to do your dishesAnd clean your damn roomBecause hey AmandaI’ve missed you soI know you lost your wayBut now it’s time to growAmanda it’s timeYou’ve got to be an adult nowAmanda it’s timeYou know why, so here’s howYou’re going to wipe that drool off of your chinYou’re going to get those sleepers out of your eyesYou’re going to laugh at yourself and grinBecause you know that you look kind of funny when you cryYou’re going to talk to your mother and tell her not to worryYou’re going to sit with your self and count all your giftsYou’re going to sit there and tell yourself, that you’re sorryBecause you know that you’ve spent too much time, imagining the what-ifsYou’re going to begin now, becoming the person you’ve always wanted to beYou’re going to see that she’s been waiting, for you to let her freeYou’re not wasting any more time, on self-doubt and self-pityBecause that person is talking to you now, she’s you, she’s meSo Amanda hurry up! You’ve got no time to lose
You’ve got lives to change
So put down that damn booze
Now Amanda, no pressure
This is all up to you
You can stay stagnant and sad
You can use diagnoses as your exscuse
But Amanda, please
I’d like to be alive
Not as a passing revelation
But as your every day drive
Hey Amanda
Take your life off cruise
You’re at the fork in the road
You are the driver, so it’s time to choose.
Like a ticking time bomb
I keep repeating the same song
Hoping it’ll change your mind
As I give us more time
From now it won’t be long
Is what I’m doing so wrong?
Pretending that all is fine
Showing that part of me that’s mine
These notes are sounding the gong
Are we off or are we on?
Perhaps I’m stepping over the line
Thinking that I can change it with this rhyme
The rough crescendo I don’t condone
Though I’m reaping the seeds that I’ve sewn
But like any criminal I think I can fix it
Acting from the past though I wish I could nix it
Now my present I’ve gotta own
Showing you and myself how much I’ve grown
See, he’s the first guy that gets it
There’s a lock on my heart but he pick’s it
Now the security in my skin is blown
Opened me up and then left me alone
Take my love and fear, go ahead and mix it
I think I can handle it, my pain predicts it
Pitter, patter
Pitter, patter
Sitting on this rock
Looking at those covered in moss
Thinking of the days I hopped
Stone to stone, rock to rock
Feet sometimes falling into the water
Not worrying about the mess
Even in the winter, looking at the snow
Dripping off, the mess, on the branches
I see wonderland, dog walking through
Taking in the silence, taking in the new
In spring the water would rush through the woods
I’d record its sounds, the birds, the water in the dusk,
Sometimes leaving it there until morning to hear
What the night sounded like
Now I sit on this rock, trying to connect myself to these roots
That plow their way through the dirt, or plant themselves,
Claiming this is their home
The water’s always running, whether or not I’m sitting next to it.
Life is always growing, whether or not I’m appreciating it
It’s a hard thing coming home, to realize you’re growing on your own
Into the thing, that watered you, and nurtured you
You wanted to be something more than just a beaming sunflower
You wanted to be that beanstalk, towering over the town.
But here you are, with lots of seeds inside you
People keep eating them, gorging their tastebuds on them
Taking in the nourishment you have to offer.
Just ninety-nine cents a bag
I wish I was more expensive
Like that rare beauty rose
Delicate, kept in a case,
High in a tower, protected from the world
And worshipped for its power.
Sometimes I wish I could live on an island
Just to prove to everyone I’m fine alone
After enough times of questioning my abilities
I’m come to question it myself as well.
If only there was someone who believed in me
Despite all the things that aren’t seen
Just knowing because they see inside of me
There’s more in store than some fond memory
I’m not the little girl that conquered a stage
I’m not the little girl who had no friends to call
I’m not the little girl that saw only one thing
A fallen destiny crumbled to birth the new
If I could just prove to my family,
That I can pierce a salmon
Build a fire by starting sparks with two sticks
Capture the rain in a large palm
If I could just prove to him,
That with no one watching,
I can make friends with myself
Warm my bones and build my own shelter
If I could just show the world,
The light that fights the dark inside me,
Boxing the toughest demons that incarnated through my blood
The world would understand, how strong I am
If I could find a way,
To kill the red-horned thoughts for good
So my energy can be better spent
Letting the light rush out of my pores
Then, maybe, I could see a solution,
More just and tangible, than saying goodbye to you
So I could believe in a universe that wants us all to succeed
Not that I’m in a meadow of flowers, and it sees me as a weed.
I’m writing to let you know that I’m reading your book
I’m writing to let you know that you’re book is changing my life
The watcher, now, is seeing this typing
The unconscious self, now, is fighting my growing
I see now the power of discernment
The little voice that says, “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay”
And the voice that says, “NOTHING IS OKAY”
The latter seems easier to believe these days
As I force myself to push out my beliefs from fears
The fear of losing someone very special to me
The process has thus far been this:
I look at my phone
Nothing
I look through photos
Nothing
I reach out to him
Nothing
Panic ensues, I begin to wonder
About friends
About roommates
About co-workers
About projects
About the past
Knowing the future
Is going fast
I hush my frantic thoughts
I breathe
I recognize the feelings
As stemmed from thoughts
Remind myself that I am not these thoughts
I feel what I’m feeling
I find that I’m receiving nothing
I step my feet back into the past
To look for something to compare to
Looking for a way to categorize love
The images flash in and out as I fight the dark.
A flash of us slow dancing and crying joy in my kitchen
Flashes of us rushing through WalMart ailes on a scavenger hunt
Flashes of us sitting in a movie theater laughing at gore
Flashes of us taking lunchtime rendezvous into his bedroom
Flashes of us shuffling through a dusty underworld
Flashes of us listening to gun shots and jumping into a hot spring
Flashes of us comparing our size to that of a redwood
Flashes of us loading film, clicking away, and hearing the rewind
Flashes of us writing our shared dreams and posting them to a bullitan board
Flashes of us admitting our fears of being loved, of being hurt
Flashes of him saying there was no end, only ways to make it work
Flashes of him surprising me at work, surprising me with lunch
Flashes of him driving up, dressed and spiffy ready to impress
Flashes of him sending me messages, poems, us writing songs
Flashes of him saying that you could die right now and be happy
Flashes of making love in a park, a cemetery, on a rock, under the stars…
No, back to the page.
A flash of us revelling under Joshua Tree stars
No, get back to this page.
A flash of blue lights, crying my love to him over shoegaze
No, get back to this page.
A flash of him grabbing my hand for the first time down a festival street
No, get back to this page.
A flash of being held in the hospital room.
Through tears that want to break through,
I force them down, telling myself that I shouldn’t mourn the past.
The past is nothing, even though it feels like something.
Something huge is leaving my body,
An emptiness in my chest because I gave away what was there.
Or is it just that I gave away my pain?
As I go through this process to transmutate it back to a whole me?
The flashes begin again as lightning strikes through an eerie blackness.
Flashes of roaring screams and his spiteful laughter
Flashes of feeling my strings being tugged at and my buttons pushed
Flashes of safety words not used, promises not kept
Flashes of loving e-mails sent to the wrong girl
Flashes of rushing through the accounts like a tornado
Flashes of money being sucked out of my pocket and energy out of my body
Flashes of giving, giving, giving, and being taken for granted
Flashes of hurting, hurting, hurting, and apologizing like my life depended on it
Flashes of being pushed over the edge, jumping over the edge, begging him to fly off the ledge and be with me and never look back.
No, get back to these keys.
Flashes of nightmares of who he was with
No, get back to these keys.
Flashes of worrying where he was last night
No, get back to these keys.
Flashes of interpreting a conversation as more
No, get back to these keys.
Flashes of the worst intentions, the most hurtful statements, the most manipulative lies…
Then I tell myself
Longing for the past is INSANE!
Worrying about the future is INSANE!
Letting my mind run my heart is INSANE!
I can’t predict the future,
But I do know where I am NOW.
Now, I am sitting in my bed.
Now, my fingers are on these keys.
Now,
Now, I am alone,
Now, I am alive,
And that’s okay, it has to be
I don’t know what’s going to be
All I know is that I have to be.
This being thing is really hard though
Making friends with my pain,
I wonder, how long is this going to take?
I wondered for a moment if really
I was only finding pleasure from this man
But then I remember how hard it’s been
How painful it’s been to trust someone
Who hasn’t earned it
Who hasn’t made me feel loved
Yet when I think on him,
With out the clouds in the way,
I know that it is love.
Mr. Tole, please tell me this:
That this whole enlightenment thing
Will help me to accept love,
Even when it’s not returned?
That this whole “way out of pain” thing
Will teach me to quiet the demons
Stop worrying about who he’s with
Why he doesn’t call
Why he’s hot and cold
Why he’s not forthcoming
And just, let this pure love flow?
I feel like I’m in spirituality boot camp
I feel like I have two choices:
I can strap on my boots and trudge through the mud
On my belly and up over a ramp, grab a rope
And swing all the way through.
At the end I may not win the race
And get the prize my heart desires
But because of the struggle,
The sprinting through time,
Dropping down and giving twenty
The dodging of demonic bullets
The hot rope burns on my palms
The splashes of crap being splashed in my face
–
Or I could let go now
Save myself from the pain
Of not getting what I’m working for
Save myself from lying there next to him
Feeling a million miles away
And train solo for a while
With no one there to challenge me
Except myself with me
The first requires more stamina
The latter requires more courage
Tell me, Mr. Tole, which would you choose?
I…. am enough
I, Am, E-Nough!
I am enough.
Okay, so who am I?
Mirror, mirror on my door
Tell me what I’m looking for.
I see, large blue eyes.
I see a huge heart ready to burst.
I see a seer.
I see a poet: a girl who writes through
Her pain, who connects her brain to her
Heart but sometimes looses track of her soul.
I see someone who is often misguided.
Thinking that a man can give her what she’s missing
When the only man that can do that is A-MAN-da. Me.
I see someone who has this insatiable desire to express herself.
I see someone who loves to hold and be held.
I see someone who wants to grow, see’s the growth but resists the change.
Mirror tell me something definite, finite, fill and real.
Mirror tell me all the truth, the whole truth, so help me God.
I need help, God, to see who I am as me with out someone I’m loving.
I see a girl who finds it easier to focus on others’ foils and blunders other than her own.
I see a girl who sabotages what she wants because it’s easier to understand why something didn’t work out if I made it happen.
I see a girl who takes everything too personally.
I see a girl who took her acting classes as words from the gods.
I see a girl who looks to others, websites and books for advice and validation,
Rather than inside that bursting heart.
If my hearts on the verge of bursting perhaps I should be using its resources more.
There’s a well of stuff in there that I’m not giving myself enough of.
Mirror mirror way above
Give me lessons on proper self-love
I see…
Flaws, no.
I see…
Regrets, no.
I see…
Resentment, no.
I see…
Potential, yes!
I see…
Intelligence, yes!
I see…
Talent, yes!
Mirror says, “that’s right, keep going”
I see…
Rose petals floating around me like American Beauty
I see…
Stars that beam out of my twirly eyes
I see…
The depth of which I feel reaches to the center of the earth’s core.
I see…
That I am more than words on a page,
A meal I made, put on a plate,
A tattoo I dreamed up, inked on a heel,
The sleep I’ve lost over essays and plays,
The sleep I’ve lost from tossing and turning
With out someone to hold
The pain I’ve felt from love not returned
The pain I’ve felt from mistakes I’ve made
I am more than the likes of my facebook page
The auditions I manage to submit to, let alone get
The “yes’” on my party invitations
The invites in my event calendar
The comments on my status updates
The amount of kisses I get from my lover
The amount of hugs I get from my friends
The amount of months a relationship lasted
The amount of men who pursued me after
I am sensitive.
I am strong.
I am fragile.
I am smart.
I am creative.
I am a lost bird flying through the world just now settling into a home.
My wings are colorful and skilled.
My heart beats like a drum and wants to keep on beating.
My brain dreams up wonderful ideas and knows plans to implement them
My soul needs to make a difference, needs to be with people.
I am all things quantified to be a genuinely good person.
I am not the favors I do, but the actions I take,
I have the ability to absorb and grow.
I have the will to become brand new, over and over again,
I have stopped biting my nails, stopped moving apartments, stopped sleeping around.
I can stop other things too, and just do what I want to do.
For me. Because I’m worth it.
Because I’m enough.
Alone as me.
I am enough.
The jingle rang delicately as a glass door swung open, letting in early-morning sun. Too early for a Sunday. Sandra, a tall, lanky, fire-engine red-head, pulled back her dark shades over her short curls and let them rest on her forehead as she peered through the narrow space towards the glass case on the left. Trailing just behind her left shoulder, Gordon, brown-haired with a twirly moustache and Jagger-esque shaggy hair, pulled up his shades as well, and let his gaze fall at Sandra’s ribbon-like hand. Sandra smacked her faded ruby lips, and relieved herself of her blue-jeaned vest as she walked her black-booted, fishnet clad legs toward the case.
“The Bagel Store, classic stop after a Stark party” she mused.
The duo had just come from an all-night rager that was hosted by a group of artists at McKinley Lofts, who only make their happenings known to those fortunate enough to get on the Jeff Stark mailing list. A list for the obscure, the trendy and for those talented at remembering complicated entry passwords.
“I’ll have a… cinnamon raisin bagel with tofu vegetable cream cheese, please. Black coffee as well.”
“And I’ll have an onion bagel with red velvet cream cheese.”
Sandra gave Gordon a shocked look.
“What? It’s never too early for dessert.”
“You want that toasted too?”
“Please, no one toasts their bagels in Brooklyn.”
“Yeah & no one order’s anything onion with anything cake either!”
“So sue me for liking sour and sweet.”
Gordon winked, Sandra huffed out a laugh. She went over towards the creamers to hide the fact that she was blushing, and went for the sugar in the raw.
“No coffee for you?”
“No, I’m more of a tea man, myself. You about ready, pixie stick?”
“Huh?”
“That’s about the amount of sugar your dousing your once-pure watery coffee with.”
“Oh, um, yeah. Where are we going?”
“My favorite spot since my first shitty living situation. I tend to find the best places when I have a lot of escaping to do.”
“So we’re escaping, now?”
“Well what do you think the essense of a ‘trip’ is?”
As they walk out, Sandra, hands her food to Gordon, and lights up an American Spirit. As she allows the smoke to toast her lungs, he tries to remember why she decided to go with this clown in the first place. Was it his grey T-shirt sporting the face of Napoleon Dynamite, or his green, nearly golden eyes; his knowledge of 80’s synth pop, or the fact that he jump-started a tidal wave in the rooftop kiddie pool last night and everyone followed?
After they arrived, Sandra slowed down to take in the scene. To her right, 2 picnic tables shaded by a few maples and a makeshift, arty-lighthouse. To her left, a tiny, curvy walkway stopped short by a run-down cement building. In front of her, the Manhattan skyline, running all the way from Queensboro Bridge down to the Brooklyn Bridge. She had never seen New York this way before: the sun rising over the shadowing buildings of the east village, reflecting its light on the east river before her. No one around but them. Gordon motioned her to where he was sitting on the rocks and she found a nice round mound perfect cushioning for watching the waves lap against it.
“So, what’s this place called?” Asked Sandra.
“It’s the Grand Ferry Park. Got an open bottle ticket here, once, so if you come here again, don’t think you’re always alone.”
Sandra looked around nervously and put out her cigarrette, as Gordon gazed at her and smiled. He handed her the bagel bag and coffee, and looking out over the water, they chomped down. The ritual of licking the cream cheese off of the lips, taking in the heat of the coffee, savoring the flavor coming off of the finger tips. Eyes, glazing over, their mouths remembered why they had come here. Together they stopped their chewing, and let their cheeks stare at each other, as they thought about their lips being toward one another. Feeling it was her responsibility to stop this, Sandra broke the silence.
“So how did you hear about the list?”
“My buddy Jared, he was the DJ.”
“Oh yeah, Jared’s a good DJ.”
“How about you?”
Sandra swallowed a huge chunk of bagel and nearly choked as she said
“…Tony.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.”
“It’s fine, you know, it was a moonbounce. Things happen in-”
“-In moonbounces?”
“Sure! You never grew up with a moonbounce in your backyard for a birthday party? My first kiss was in a moonbounce.”
“I grew up in Brooklyn, cement city. Haha where are you from? Can’t believe I haven’t asked you that.”
“Yeah. Can’t believe you haven’t” Sandra smiled.
“Arizona.”
“You’re a long way from Kansas, Dorothy. Well, welcome to the land of Oz!”
“Thanks but your welcome is about 5 years late. Came here when I was 18 for FIT.”
“Ah.”
The pair went back to their bagels to finish them off. After the bags were empty and the coffee gone, there was nothing else to do but…
“Look I’m sorry, okay?” Blurted Gordon.
“Yeah, you said that.”
“No I mean, I’m really sorry. I had no idea he would get that way. I mean, who knew he would take his fountain pen to the bounce house because of it? I’m an idiot, okay, I shouldn’t have done it. Please don’t hate me.”
“It’s FINE, all right?” huffed Sandra. “I hardly knew him, it was like our third time hanging out. I shouldn’t have brought him anyways, he… he lives in Queens.”
“Ewe, Queens? I mean… really?”
“Hey I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, at least he doesn’t go around biting girls olegs just because a jump fest has turned into a cuddle orgy.”
“You’re right, I’ll be more careful about whose leg I’m biting into next time.”
The two stared at each other, like charging bulls, smoke shooting out of their ears, lips tightened, ready to charge at each other.
“You left a mark. Look”
Sandra then pulled up her ruby skirt to show two horseshoe shaped blue bruises on her upper left thigh.
“That is going to take weeks to fade.” Exclaimed Sandra.
“What do you care, I thought you weren’t that into him.”
“I’m not, but I am into Genesis.”
“Why do you think a 60’s English band would care about your thigh hygiene?”
“Genesis is the name of my roommate, my roommate and my lover.”
“Funny, it seemed to me last night that you lived alone.”
“She’s my roommate… in Los Angeles. I’m moving to LA next week.”
Gordon felt like all of the rivers rocks had just dropped on his balls. He hadn’t felt a blow like this since Heather from second grade, threw out his transformers Valentines Day card. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was going to bring her to breakfast, apologize, play it cool for a couple of weeks, then out-of-the-blue call her up for some more. He didn’t anticipate a storm that would thoroughly fuck up his “wooing” plans. He was going to have to come up with another strategy. Play on her soft side. But how? All he was to her was a couple of bite marks she wanted to, but couldn’t get rid of. Then it hit him.
“Get a dog!”
“Get… a dog?”
“Take my dog. His snout is about the same size as that mark.”
“I can’t afford a dog. I’m going from one metropolitan city to another.”
“First of all, LA isn’t ‘metropolitan,’ second of all, I’ll help pay for his care. Like child support, only pet support.”
Sandra furrows her brow.
“Um… why?”
“Because Porkchop, my dog, hasn’t been anywhere, like ever, and I hear LA offers a lot in the outdoor category.”
“Okay, and what, you’ll live vicariously through my Facebook or something? Should I do little doggie photo shoots every month so you can keep up with your kid? No, you need to be therefor him. I will not have a half-assed father caring for our child.”
“Okay. So… I’ll come visit.”
“For the dog.”
“To see the dog, and remind him, that I’m still around.”
It’s warm, too warm. I blear through my eyelashes, letting in tiny bits of light at a time. Oh God, why is opening my eyes this time so difficult? Ordinarily after a nightmare I’m just as terrified as I am now, but the thing that I’m sleeping on is usually soft. I don’t feel cushioned right now. Something is grazing my right shoulder and it feels like I’m lying on a griddle of maple syrup. Stuck, my vision tightens and I see that I’m a pancake on black tar, stuck by this sticky substance to a cast-iron road. The maple syrup looks like strawberries, red, dripping from my stomach. I don’t remember eating pancakes this morning.
Reality sets in. A green light turned yellow. A yellow car turned left, left right into my red car’s side. My side, then 40 miles per hour seemed sound, right up until the deafening screech and orange flash of sparks flying into the air, trailing behind me as I propelled from my cushion to see nothing but a sky of smog, then, darkness. I am not gone yet, but I am on my way. Now my heart starts to pound as it extends its wishes for immortality. Hope, my LG flip phone, lying just beyond arms reach. My eyes muscle their way as far as possible, as the rest of me lies limp, longing to follow.
Not able to tackle my goal, the debris of the road flashes in and out, as a commercial for the network of my life. Just six months ago: I am slouched over my scraped and stained carpet. I can’t remember why now, it’s funny, but I’m crying. There is the all-too-familiar taste of gelatinous-like snot all over my lips and chin. I’m wailing as Willy screeches to its family, longing to be free. I am unable to move, as unable as I am now. Then, I see Anthony’s swamp-like eyes, filling up like a snake-free pond, one drop, then another, to match the ones on my carpet. His hand gently caressing my cheek, smiling through it all revealing your imperfect whites. We stare at each other for a few knowing moments and it becomes clear that I am not alone. My arms feel a new sensation of life, and we grasp hold of each other. So where is he now? My rescuer taught me I’m not alone, but lying on this pavement, I’m all there is…
Now I’m 16, sitting in the corner of a white, long-room with harlequin flooring. Trying to shy away from the mirrors on all sides near the CD player, as I hold up my satin, glued shoe, and pour out drops of blood. I wonder how they have all done it, continuing to chasé, grande jetté and piqué turn around Ms. Terry. Dazzling each other, as I try not to vomit all over my purple leo. My eyes catch the gaze of Caroline on water break. My shoulder catches the comfort of her hand rub. We sit together, she hands me her apple, which I turn away. She tells me to put on a soft shoe, to keep trying, to build up my calluses, to find the beauty in the pain.
Now 9, thoughts get hazy as the sound of sirens interrupt my dreams. Red rover red rover, send GINA over! I obey in order to play. I see a pair of girls loosen their grip and I go for it, not anticipating the purposeful slip away as my heel skid across a soggy storm drain. Playtime is over. The whistle’s been blown, and so has my kneecap. I lie there shocked, confused, and startled. The principal comes over and asks me what happened. I can’t explain it. I could never reconcile how my friends could be so vicious and my friends at the same time. The orange-haired guidance counselor comes over, offers the soothing help of Neosporin and basic first aid. She looks me in the eye, and says most earnestly that sometimes, people just suck.
Now I feel as though I’m falling through a dark well. I’ve landed in a playpen. I’m in a light yellow onesie and there’s some weird ball with holes in it and a tattered teddy bear with one eye missing. They left me alone for 2 hours now. My cries have not been heard yet, and I wonder if they ever will be. Then, an older woman with a snaggle tooth, a giant, ginger Santa man and a girl not much older than me, with curly blond locks and fair, kind face walk towards the pen. The girl who is referred to as Annabelle, bends close to me, and reaches for my hand. I grasp tight. My family has finally found me.
In and out these thoughts come to. I realize now that my whole life has become a rescue after rescue to show me how not alone I am. Now here I am, wondering where my lover is. Wishing I could tell my family thank you, for picking me. I have learned the truth about life now, wishing the answer could have come sooner. As the rush of stretchers rushes to the other road explosions, I wheeze in the reality. When they find me, I will be gone. My eyes drift open for one last look, and just as they close, I feel a thumb on my wrist, a thumb on my neck. I feel them waiting for a thump, when all I wanted at this end, was a hug.
Amanda Kari's Poetry 