Adam. You suck.

So I just got off the phone with my boss. She called and said, “Adam asked me to tell you to feed the birds.” And I told her that Adam and I are both on the schedule to feed but I’m off today so he needs to do it. Did he seriously call and tell on me? This is Adam, a third of the triangle, someone I’ve considered to be one of my better friends and who’s becoming a bigger and bigger asshole all the time.

At first he was just being mean to David and only talking nonsense to me, “You need to tell your boyfriend…” et cetra. He doesn’t like what David’s wearing, doesn’t like it that he stopped talking for a couple days, Doesn’t like that he reads David Sedaris or that he’s happy. He’s said this to me.

I thought that acknowledgement would bring him to change. I thought maybe he just needed to hear himself say, “I don’t like it that David’s happy,” but it’s only brought him into further distrust and cruel judgement of others.

Honestly, every time I’ve talked to Adam in the past month he’s been rude, barking that he doesn’t want to talk about it, it being his trip to NY or his day even. I try to laugh him off because sometimes sarcasm leaks past his otherwise dry wit. I think maybe he’s joking but not anymore.

This morning I called to remind him to feed the birds because I’m not working today and I didn’t want him to forget, especially since Peek-a-boo’s eye exploded. I don’t want her to be pussing and starving.

Me: Hey Adam. I just want to remind you to feed the birds today because-

Adam: I left you a message. Did you get it?

Me: No, I didn’t. I hardly check my-
Adam: Well check your messages. Click

I checked my voicemail and there was a message from Adam saying. “If you want to know why I have a hard time dealing with David… I’m not being passive aggressive…Whenever David gets what he wants… The triangle…” Basically a bunch of stuff I couldn’t give a shit about. I was just worried about the birds, so much that I considered tainting my day of writing and blazing through David Sedaris’s latest book of essays to take care of the damn things myself. I called Adam again.

Me: (pause) Adam?

Adam: click

Heart pounding with pissed-off-ness I wrote Adam a note on an envelope which I then delivered to him at Margetts:

I don’t care if you don’t like David.
Don’t forget to feed the fucking birds.
(And on the back) It’s rude to hang up on people. AW

About an hour later I got the phone call. Thankfully phone call number two from the boss said Reid already fed the birds this morning anyway. Fucking Adam.

Last night I dreamed me, Adam, David and Kam were riding down a highway in an empty generic city much like Liberty in Grand Theft Auto. Adam was behind the wheel. David had shotgun. Me and Kam were in the back. Adam wrecked hard into nothing and none of us were hurt except Adam. He was thrown through the windshield and onto the pavement. I saw this from both birdseye and my natural perspective. I got out of the car and lifted his mangy little head. He was so bloody and small and I called an ambulance but he made them not come.



Right now I’m eating an apple and popcorn and listening to Yanni. Last night David and I were going to see the midnight showing of Indiana Jones but we didn’t- which is great because I heard it was terrible so I’ll see it on a day when I’m fresh so I can be more scathingly critical.

We had tickets for the movie last night. David surprised me with them while I was half watching American Idol, half watching re-runs of Top Chef at the Lakehouse. But we decided to take naps, became unmotivated and woke up this morning feeling more awake than we would have but with less edge.

His parents saw Indiana Jones for their first date. I should have made more of an effort. Something that bothers me about David- pretty regularly, is that he needs to be so far from me in order to fall asleep. I end up feeling rejected and then guilty for feeling rejected because it isn’t really his fault.

Last night our naps were across camp from one another. David dropped me at my cabin and fled to the castle. As soon as he left, I was over Indiana Jones. The midnight movie was like a birthday cake with no party. I do this to David a lot. I shut him down quietly in my head. This morning at breakfast he called me out on it saying, “You know, you have a very short-term emotional memory.” Meaning one minute I’m crazy about him and then I’m so obviously over him the next.

Today the weather mirrored my temperment. I was teaching Project Adventure second period and had to take shelter from the icy rain 3 different times. The rest of the time the skies were clear and beautiful. The whole episode led to little progression in my class and in the end I was tired and relieved it was all over. I wonder if that’s how David feels about me. I’m not bad, just exhausting. And I wonder if it’s too late to fix it… half the time, the other half I wonder if it’s worth it. And that’s the problem.

I talked to my memaw tonight before dinner. She asked me about David and our plans for the summer. I told her that David’s hiking the west coast till October and that I’ll be at Omega till then and after that we don’t know. She said we sound like soulmates… I don’t even know how to hear that shit anymore.


Right now I’m supposed to be teaching yoga to Indian Princesses, but nobody’s here so I’m stretching and now writing. I’ve just witnessed a fragile moment. I was doing the clock thing with my eyes. The one where you pretend you are inside a huge clock and you look at all the times slowly, then a little faster then far away, then up close and the room becomes very saturated with life and interesting things.

Well, at about 8 o’clock, I saw a little ant walking toward the center of the room and when I got back to 8, he wasn’t there anymore. He seemed so beautiful at the time but I knew I’d forget him if I didn’t write him down. I have witnessed many ants in commute before and not a one is particularly memorable. This bothers me. I want to remember them all.

Last night I dreamed LP had a new girl. She had the same hair as the bangy blond Kelly had picked out of Lucky magazine for her new hairdo. Her name was Erin and while I couldn’t quite make out here face, I knew she was beautiful and fun, definitely more fun than me because among other things, I’m really boring. Nicer words- still, peaceful, mad chill. I’m practicing being nicer to myself.

Anyhoo, there was a door in my dream that LP and his new girl were cryptically tallying some sort of love points on in chalk. The markings were very small but I recognized them for what they were, the beginning of falling in love. My name was at the bottom of the door in fleshed out blue and gold capital letters with all kinds of markings around it. While I was in the bathroom, I heard someone scratching at the love door. It was LP trying to erase me. This made me very sad and I felt like I was disappearing and I began to see everything from birds eye.

I just figured out how to get to AdeleStreet comments without going through all my old entries. Thank you. I don’t know what to say. I have said things to you and erased them because you are all so different I can’t clump you to in to compliments and to single you out here might run you off. You’re like a sly little cat that sneaks into the horse barn. If I pretend I don’t see you, you stay with me. If I come towards you, you run or else think the toast I put out is all I’ve got when really, I’ve got steak. Don’t run away before the steak! But do know that I love you very much and I appreciate you being with me here.

Marie Laure de Noailles watched as 500 soldiers marched through Paris and sighed, “There go 500 romances.” My little magpie, love will work out for you. I have faith in you always and if you try, and if you mean well it has to work. Don’t fear the journey and the boys that don’t match your future.

The other 6

“Rocky’s Revenge” acrylic on canvas, 36”x36”, 2008

“Color Me Bad” acrylic on canvas, 36”x36”, 2008

“Room at Madison” acrylic on canvas, 36”x25”, 2008

“Smokin’ a Ciggy See” , acrylic and oil on canvas, 3’x5′, 2008

“Bluebird Lites” acrylic on canvas, 36″x36”, 2008

“Mind If I Cut In?” acrylic on canvas, 36”x36”, 2008
*this guy no longer exists. He’s now covered in oils and called “The Black Part of Me”

8 of 14 Fleshy but Dead

“X Furniture” acrylic on wood, 24”x36”, 2007

“Dumbass” oil and acrylic on canvas, 5’x3′, 2008

“Brendan” acrylic on canvas, 36″x36”, 2008

“Mom/Frida Khalo Meets Michael Jackson” acrylic on wood, 36”x24”, 2007

“Isabo and Gilboa” acrylic on wood, 36″x24″, 2007

“Dream Mansion” acrylic on wood, 36″x24″, 2007
“Mother Earth in Chanel” acrylic on wood, 24″x36″, 2007

“Mask” acrylic on wood, 24″x36″, 2007


A lady who was at my friendship workshop sent me a card today saying that as a new mother, she often struggles with identity and that my exercises really helped her. I feel like I’m starting to find my niche in teaching- very exciting!

Last night I dreamed that I was taking care of a baby. It wasn’t my own but it freaked me out to let other people hold it. They always seemed like they were fixin to drop it. When I looked up the dream, the dream dictionary said the baby is symbolic of a personal vulnerability. I think the dream means I’m happy in myself but afraid my happiness will be stripped from me when I leave this summer. I think the dream means this because this is was I actually fear- but have never said. It helps to say it. Now instead of being scared, the notion seems slightly absurd. I will tell everyone. I’m scared a little, and the scared will get smaller.

Today I found a very rash letter that a certain someone wrote to a certain someone else, not me, and I stole it. Not only did I steal it, I read it and wrote a synopsis of it in case the person I stole it from figures out I have it and decides to read it. I wrote that she didn’t mean it and she needs time to heal and that he isn’t all of those bad things and she doesn’t really want him to disappear forever. I’m sure he will ask for it back because I’m sure I’ll ask. I always cave and tell the truth. I hope the letters neutralize each other. They both deserve better than all this spite. This is probably the last time he’ll ask me to water his plants, clepto that I am.

Someone drew a penis on my face while I was sleeping last night.

As the World Falls Down

Last night Shane, Giles, Amber, Heidi, Katie, KT, Cassie, Jay, George and I took a shortbus into Kingston to go swimming. I practiced putting my face in the water and kicking. LJ, Brett, Josie and Kevin were there. LJ was my coach. There was a naked lady in the steam room that would have preferred I stay out but I came in anyway and felt so new after. A Chinese lady ignored me when I asked her how to turn on the shower. Maybe she didn’t speak English. Maybe she did.

After we left the pool we went for burgers and chicken. Me and Jay talked about pop music. I’m glad we’re friends again. We listened to Third Eye Blind on the way back home. I had forgotten how much I love that song, “I Want You.”

I am so tired right now and I look like Foxy Brown because of the weather and my boob shirt. Which is good. I taught my “Good Friends” class tonight. It was hard for me to convey my vision to the women but basically I had them dissect their personalities into two characters, name them, make them meet and marry them to each other. Then we wrote tributes, adventure itineraries and put everything together to make a journal. Ann said she saw some of the women after my class and they insisted on showing their journals to her and said I was cute. A success I guess. Not everyone has to tattoo their ego to their arm to really “get it” though I kinda wish they would.

LP’s little brother is such a ray of sunshine. I was legitimately stressed about that friendship class today and he sent me the sweetest message out of the blue. He totally made my day by calling my f-ing awesome. You’re f-ing awesome little man! Another magical thing that happened today was when a lady in my class was telling me we should build a labyrinth at Frost Valley and Bowie’s “When the World Falls Down” started to play.

Wounded Bird

It’s a suffocating sort of hot in the dining hall today. I don’t think I’m getting sick but my chest feels tight- probably from the weight of LP as he started falling asleep last night, or the way he’s wedged himself into my heart. Or maybe after last night my heart’s filled to capacity and it’s going to burst. Geez.

Last night I read my journal from end of Clay through summer camp ’07. It was so sad. I never realized how hard I was on myself- but that if I said bad things about other people, namely Griffin, I’d tear the pages out and destroy them. I didn’t want to think of him badly, but I didn’t mind doing it to myself. I told myself to “suck it up”, to “sit pretty” because I wasn’t sexy, that I looked like an ant, and there were entries where I mentioned crying for hours, cleaning up quickly and moving onto the next task. I said, “Why am I still in Kentucky? I don’t belong here. Am I here to make Griffin miserable?” Apparently.

Kentucky never was the problem. I really didn’t care about myself. I think I wanted to- but I didn’t know how. Thank god I’ve had this time away, in the mountains, by myself with my books, paint and strangers. Still strangers after months on end. It’s a very comfortable quiet.

I’d much rather have dirt under my nails than soap. Soap is sour.

My love life is blossoming with the coming of spring. It’s strange living and working outside every day in the mountains. The chores change with the seasons, like we sugar now instead of ski and in the summer we play, in the fall we make cider. Our hormones change with the moon but we can see that it’s the moon changing us because we go face to face with the moon each night. I feel the winds of change even inside my drafty little cabin. The sunshine means work will get done faster and more easily. On the equinox we moved telescopes to the boathouse and put snow tubes in Margetts, snow shoes in Hyde Watson. We learned about acid rain in March to prepare for the April showers. A spider checked into my yoga class. A boy disembodied my isolation. Spring is here.

I’ve been lost in a vivid dream world lately. A few nights ago I dreamed “Ben and the Theater” and wrote it down immediately after waking. I then drew it and thought about it and tried to remember more details, talked to Ben about it on the phone, it seemed so real that I couldn’t get away from it and suddenly it was 3pm and I hadn’t moved from Cuba (my couch).

Last night I dreamed I was in my old house on Grama. No one was there and I was scared because I was imagining a murderous film I had seen too vividly. I was afraid the imagery would find me in my house, which was very dark with carpet that prevented any sound. My memaw was in my dad’s bathroom in bed except it was a larger room, not one with a toilet. She would comfort me but she also haunted and scared me. I would have both sensations without seconds in between. I don’t know if she was real or dead. Then.

I was in a van with LP (the boy), my friend Jay, LP’s twin who doesn’t actually exist and three or so tall, sexy older looking women. At first I was in the back seat with one of the LP’s but he kept very physically flirting with one of the women so I moved toward the front of the van where Jay was sitting shotgun and the real LP was driving. They didn’t acknowledge me so I just sat trying not to exist in either space. Once we arrived at our destination, some sort of gymnasium, I was supposed to put on a baton performance but I was really terrible at twirling so I made plans to do a sexy dance while holding a baton instead. I never actually performed even though I practiced my routine for most of the dream.

Maybe it’s the weather or the love in its various forms, or the champagne, or my cycle but I just can’t help but stare and reminisce and wonder if I’ll see that theater or that van or my two LPs in my dreams tonight. I want to know them intimately and to own them and to experience them whenever I want. There is something very beautiful in experiencing these things in real time though. Sleep being the real time, unlike the internet’s lack of time which is its inherent disservice to mankind. My dreams are the only things I’m only admitted to see through a truly organic lens. I appreciate them. I feel bonded to their pulse which is more than I can say for my dealings with the rest of the world.

About my love life- keep quiet. Anything you read here is between you and me. Remember. The first rule of AdeleStreet is you do not talk about AdeleStreet. The second rule of AdeleStreet is you DO NOT talk about AdeleStreet or I will eat your family.


My dad gets even cooler the older I get. He’s not had the most conventional life which keeps him from being the classic amazing father but he’s brilliant and you can tell he loves his family though he’s often not physically present. He does what he can… and if you’re a sister of mine, you’ll cut him some slack.

He quit his job at a grocery store recently to clean condos for a living. The way he describes it, you’d think he was the richest man alive. “Me and Kathy can work together. I make 2 dollars more an hour and the best part is that we’ll never have to grocery shop again! These people leave everything!”

He says there’s always stuff in the freezer. Last condo he cleaned had a pizza, a loaf of bread, 1/2 a gallon of milk and a bottle of wine. A week ago he found a beautiful kite that looks like an airplane. “Everyday is like Christmas!’

Now that it’s basketball season, he likes to have the sports channel on in every room. Beginning in May there’s a cookout every Saturday for the staff where they swap their findings- beer mostly. I think Dad might try to swap some beer for an inflatable mattress for my stay this summer since he doesn’t really drink.