the silence on her recovery site is not a good sign
she has gone more
than a week without posting anything.
She’s gone even longer on her poetry site but since she
tends to post poems when she is most in turmoil the silence makes more sense
there.
The recovery site is different .
her lack of posting may indicate that she has recovered
sufficiently to think she doesn't need the therapy to write about it and has
successfully recovered her reputation so that she feels she has no need to
continue
She may simply be going through the motions to satisfy the
people who are paying for the clinic
her short term enthusiasm appears to have already waned
this is all theory of course and she could very well be on
her way to full recover
I just don't know
the whole affair seems strained from the start though.
I think she really
sought of help for her disorder after being fired from the job
I just don't think she has a long term plan and has to
settle for quick fixes, the way she did with the whole food thing and previous
efforts
her arrival to the brick city to take photos may be part of
her new effort to rebuild herself, and may be connected to the PR guy from her
old job who may be promising her a new gig.
She may indeed have a place to land
If so she may feel she no longer needs the clinic and is a
prisoner whose sentence winds down. she is simply counting the days until she
can legitimately step away and pronounce herself cured and go right back to the
life she lived prior to her being exiled
it's impossible to tell from this vantage point whether or
poet went to Branch Brook Park in Newark on assignment or on her own on
Saturday for the Cherry blossom festival
it may be more something her PR boss sent her to do to help
rescue her since
she was apparently at
an official Essex county event prior to this and that was a place where he
worked PR for many years
this suggests that she will maintain her network even though
she got cast off in the Virgin Mayors town and that her trickling up to her PR
boss may have helped her in the end after all
maybe one more feather in her PR cap from the international
women's event last year to her sympathetic essay on the dead baby after the bus
crash and even maybe even some of her whole foods spin, pumping up her PR
resume for some future job she may already have her eyes set on
I think she clearly tried to impress the pr guy with all of
this but again it's hard to tell what really goes on inside her mind or inside
the orbit she previously was rejected from
maybe this also explains the picture she posted of her
taking a picture rather than what she took a picture of
or even the collection of photos she did of the gas pipeline
in the peninsula City which our owner was so hard pressed for me to get
all this of course comes at a time when she has been
released from the clinic down south and is in the midst of treatment in New
York City for eating disorder
she clearly needs to reinvent herself also and this
photography gig may be part of that aspiration
it is difficult to tell whether she also is in touch with
our former temporary boss and the owner of our company as possible references
for her when she moves on
again, from the outside it appears that she has fallen out
with RR and may have happened last spring at which point she may have taken up
with the pr guy instead
perhaps RR who I saw last memorial Day in Secaucus may have
caught on to this trickling up bit but again this is all guesswork. I know
nothing for sure
but she did post some things about a conflict with somebody
that she was close to in April 2013, the start of a change, all this game
crashing down
generally when things like this happen she changes location
and starts over there's no indication that she's going to move out of her
apartment anytime soon so she may have found a gig or something that allows her
to remain and yet be distance enough from the previous life that it won't
endanger her new prospects
what exactly runs through her head remains a mystery
whether she is
legitimately reformed -- which I think she is --or just the front to save face
it has been 6 days since she last posted her recovery blog
although she has changed photos on her Facebook several times
so it is impossible
to tell how well or not well her recovery is going
if the silence is significant at all she may think her last
posting “I win” is all she needs to say and so wishes to leave it all on a high
note
the latest photo
posted on her Facebook is so typical of her earlier seductive stuff it's
difficult to read anything into it except to suggest that she may think she has
succeeded in reinventing herself and no longer really needs to document her
recovery efforts
she tends as she's pointed out previously to leap into
projects with both feet to excert immense amount of energy early on only to run
out of fuel after time
or assumes she no longer needs to work as hard and that the
rewards must start rolling in at any time
when they don't she gets frustrated and seeks to find a way
to make it happen faster as hinted at during several weeks of therapy at the
clinic
this assumes a lot that our poet can't change her spots.
But I have faith that she is sincere this time, though I
suspect she is also trying to
cleanse her reputation as well the way she tried with whole
foods and coffee depositories and such helped her cure her cancer.
in the end she seeks to get cured for an eating disorder,
but she has other issues, she must deal with if she is to truly reinvent
herself.
perhaps for the most powerful of the poems t she emailed me
2 years ago came on April 17th 2012 and has a poem that had -- looking back
made clear just how horrible my betrayal of her became later it is a poem I
have since read often and will likely read many more times in the future a kind
of penance for my later sins and since the poem in those in the use of my full
name there can be no doubt about for whom it was written
it opens by thanking God or whomever is looking down from a
ridiculous Crystal sky and how she struggled how to get me near her resolve
crumbling when he came to that fucking door and I told her that I could not
look my wife in the eyes if she and I got involved
I thought it was done she wrote I thought my world said had
so augmented by your beauty was taken away from me again
good things gone again she points out
but when she came to my desk and looked in my eyes her soul
sword and her self-control evaporated my look she said gave her life and took a
life away from her in a single simple glance this passage would return to haunt
me later when reading her poem to her lover early last year about how she felt
in that moment in the Sun in one poem and how intense the sex was in another
and later made me realize when rereading this poem she had once had similar
powerful feelings towards me
“I felt my control go, and I fell hard,” she wrote. “Nearly
died. You gave me life and took it from me in a simple statement, and a simple,
complex, impossible glance.”
Again looking back, this poem has all the hyberbole of the poem
she posted about lover early last year, how after having had sex with him, she
could die happy (or something of that sort).
Her poems goes on, talking about how I followed her out,
helping her escape the abyss of the normal, and how I became her guide to
breeze and water, the salvation of moving liquid, cleansing.
Here, she raising the specter of darkness, of waking, night
after night, lost and screaming and wishing for death.
“Yes, I still do,” she wrote.
She said she is good at hiding things, but not from me, and
all of a sudden – and here she uses my full name – all was perfect.
“Time stood still which never happens, and I saw you, your
eyes, heard your voice that soothes me and once again, it all made sense, but
it didn’t, because none of it makes any fucking sense except that it does when
you are there.”
To this day, two years later, I can’t be certain if this was
a put on or not.
I keep going back and forth on it, wondering how in less
than a month’s time we had gone from relative strangers to this intensity.
It seemed then and now, too good to be true, while during the
months that followed, when she transitioned to others in our office, trickling up,
I briefly believed she was manipulating me, only to later (and even now) wish
she sincerely felt this about me
“I fucking cried, and you did it,” she wrote, then made reference
to time as I alluded to, “In less than a week, you took me in.”
Her heart beat slowed to the rhythm of my breath, describing
the office we worked in as a “shit show” which no longer mattered.
She said her soul felt soothed as if we had done this
before, something she couldn’t explain, and didn’t want ot.
“I want you,” she wrote. “There by the water, holding me,
the sound f your voice rescuing me, and helping me to rescue myself.”
She said she could not respond with anything, and it didn’t
matter, because she believed I knew her, always and forever.
If this was a deception, it worked.
Each time I reread the poem, I am captivated again, as lost
in limbo as the poem implies she was at that time, and much later, reading it
again, I came to believe just how much I lost – whether the feelings she
expressed were honest, didn’t matter, to me they did, and continue to, long after
the smoke as cleared and she has moved on.
