Many Songs

Performed at the 10 Minute Play Festival 7/28/2013

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5 years. 18 housies. 14 new friends. 6 non human animals. 2 heartbreaks. Many songs. 1 death.  A memoir of 272.

I didn't have any pets as a kid.  I have been spending years of my adult life learning how to love animals.  I have spent the past five years at 272.  There is Klemmons, my best dog friend, who eats garbage and still comes over sometimes.  Sadie.  Nettle, who was a complete alien to me at first.  AND the cats...Tom, Lyra, and Lillie.  Lillie cleared up our mouse problem, but may have been a part of the reason that I decided to move.  We had a complicated door situation.  People have been asking me why I decided to move, and I can't really remember a reason.  But I feel ready.

The place to be at 272 is the kitchen.  The door is always open.  Sadie was always underfoot, except when she was outside.  She couldn't hear, and she couldn't climb stairs, but sometimes, you could catch her in the act of a quick trot with a jolly tail wag.  Crystal decided to put her down on my birthday.  She was 16 years old.  We had a funeral party for her the same day.  I had a migraine and a melt down when everyone left because I didn't want to do any of it.  But I learned that loving someone, is a willingness to clean up their piss off the floor, day after day, after day, even if you aren't their designated human.

(Song for Sadie): The gate's open.  What's it mean when the gate's open, Sadie Girl? The gate's open.  What's it mean when the gate's open Sadie Girl? Oh shit. Sadie Girl. Oh shit. Hairs of pearl, and black she wanders the streets so free.  That's what the neighbors don't want to see. Sadie Girl, oh. Sadie Girl. (End song)

I don't like too many cooks in the kitchen.  If there's one thing I don't like, it's a small group of people having to make a long chain of decisions about the smallest things.  When I have a friend over for a meal, and they want to help, I ask them to tell a story.  Hundreds of butts have sat on this kitchen bench.  Hundreds of stories.  I almost can't take it with me, because it belongs here, you know?  I don't feel like I own this thing.  How could anyone own a thing that's made of so many other things?

(Song for Amy): Lately I've been thinking, that the spices must be missing you.  The shake and dash you used to do.  To make the rice taste sweeter.  But by now the diet's stricter, and the peas they aren't exciting, so I'm writing you this love letter, wishing and inviting you to.....Meet me in the kitchen.  Sit with me awhile.  Ask me what should I do.  Tell me about your day.  Meet me in the kitchen.  I'll tell you a story.  Maybe it is boring. But maybe it's okay and we'll toast. (End Song)

 In 2009 I began to be more formally and consciously politically educated.  I have a confession to make: it was the white boys I loved who taught me about feminism.  I started having new heroes and they were real people in my Pittsburgh life.  On this bench, I talked politics for hours and hours and hours.  I learned about power.  I learned about war, and genocide, and mass incarceration.  I learned about patriarchy, domination and control, capitalism and exploitation.  I learned that stories weren't told in newspapers you could buy at the corner store.  That the stories of pain and courage, and empathy were hidden.  I listened.  And I learned.  And the stories filled me, and I became this person.  I really like this person.  I settled into becoming her.

The years past, and I kept the same small room with the window that goes out onto the roof.  I filled the walls with paper and tape, with artifacts of friendships and experiences.

2007 bike gang t-shirt (hold up shirt)
photograph of craft night ritual (hold up photo)
art from my pen pals in prison (hold up lions)
prints and posters made by friends and local artists (northstar)
things to inspire me (mirah)

and sad reminders
this one is, yes these tears, but oh theses wings.

(silent hold up of resistance of the heart against business as usual)

There were many break downs and build back ups.  I wrote a poem about how good we were at recovering.  At breaking down and building back up.  It became possible for me to throw all of my belief into our power. Even in the face of everything.  What used to take three weeks of despair to pass began to take one evening.

I sat with a stranger, Clifford, in his saddest moment.  I sat with a best friend in one of her hardest times. And I watched them transform.  You sat with me in my hardest moments.  I learned loving someone is a willingness to sit with them in their muck.

(Song for KF) : Dave's going out fishing and I think I'll go with him but I'm not going to catch anything.  Cause I don't have the poles, and I don't have the bait, and I don't have the patience to sit here and wait, I was wrong. About moving on.  I thought. I was moving on.  This city is filled with people so pretty, but I'm still in love with, your itty-bitty, snaggle tooth.  What's the use? (End song)

 I didn't think it would be true for me, but time did heal all my love wounds.  I waded through heart breaks and I became strong.  I stayed when you left.  You could not make home here.  But then I visited you.  And I saw you, and I shared your joy.  I felt alone sometimes, but I knew better.  I still had everything.  I mean, all of it, added up.  I became less afraid.  I could give more.  I met my soul people. My voice became clearer.  My heart became fuller. I loved and was loved at 272.

(Song for Fall #2): It is raining.  And my brain hurts. And my back hurts. And my heart hurts.  But I'm swaying, under an awning, with my lover. And my groceries.  I'm so hungry for nutrition, I'm on a mission, I am wishing.  To have a prolific body experience. I get delirious. Without comfort. All the ghosts inside of your body.  Move around like electricity.  I'm glad your with me, while they are searching.  For where they belong. In some organ.  And then your brain makes.  A new wrinkle.  It's so magical. The way that you flow and, I'm not planning. For the future. Cause I know life is long, I know life is long.  I'm just being, with my lovers, under the covers, I gotta SNUGGLE, fall comes in and, fall goes out again. I just want to heal and, know I'm growing. (End song)