lagrimas

pues no se lo que paso. she woke up and she told myself that she loved herself. she slept with the totem kenyan soapstone heart from a world of good. the waldorf pilates tv ad was still in her mind. it featured diasy fuentes (who has become ridiculously whi-tino) and women who sculpted their bodies from sizes 12 to 4 in weeks watching a dvd and using a metal hoop with handles. danny glover endorsed it. and that little ad crept into my mind. i wonder if there is a book, since i am one of the bassackward with no television or media player other than the computer, and this thing ain't equipped for the dvd revolution. the scarf came off my head last night, unleashing my little bush atop my head. i took a moment to brush my hair and retie my scarf. kayla was patient with me this morning, not tugging at me for a walk. i brushed my teeth. i walked kayla, down the sidewalk, across the street and into glen park. another beautiful, dewy morning. i made a dog owner friend with a gorgeous, blonde, poofy something or other pooch. he just moved up from la. i looked awkward in my jacket, i am sure. the temperature jumped about 20 degrees from the time we stepped outside to when we arrived at the park. he was an la dude. stylish, wavy hair, muscle shirt with arm tats showing and explained how small san francisco seemed. i agreed with him. i chatted with him about the dog culture here. from my observation a dog could be treated like royalty here. i held back my comment about humans not having as much food, pampering, and health care. i tried to be the welcome wagon, not the cynic wagon. i let kayla off leash after she did her business and after i picked up said business. she amused herself with a tennis ball for a little bit. i passively listened to the mini until "toledo" by elvis costello and burt bacharach came on from the painted from memory album. sadness turned on at that tune. my mind got into that blank state. the daydreaming into nothing. the not caring about anything. the list of deficits began streaming like ending credits into my mind. time to walk home. and the dog needed to come, too. we chose the high road on the way back. i charged kayla to stay the course and as soon as i walked into the door... waterworks, please. so these tears, where do they come from? these tears, are they real sadness? does the monster reside always in my mind? why does it hate me so? i replenish my quiver i make my aim i take it down yet it returns cry cry cry that's all i ever do and i hate myself for feeling weak for feeling worthless for feeling nothing my father calls asks what's wrong and i tell him i am fat and ugly and poor and talentless and i don't know what to do i am overwhelmed by the global destruction and the personal blemishes and debt i am overwhelmed by the prospect of folding clothes all the while life happens outside cars are driving cherry blossoms are blooming there's a gorgeous, graceful conifer of some type outside the window and he tried to comfort me with the story of a little girl he saw that reminded him of when i was little beautiful, smart, all over the place in my mind i wondered what happened to her you guys were so happy all the time, he says. i remember that except when i was scared of my neighbor and scared when things used to fly in the house and scared my parents would find out about my neighbor because when you're little you feel powerless and i thought it was my fault i let him get ahold of my bike i let him take me behind the shed i let him make me feel bad and i took on the victim, the blame i thought that's what jesus would do my father says i can't let depression take my laugh my father says he will call me back, mami is in kroger's right now my father said i looked good the time i was there my father recalls a poster he's seen with a beautiful woman staring into a mirror and seeing a monster in the reflection i'm not the beautiful woman i'm a monster staring at her reflection