this is what it takes for her to hold onto my every word.
why couldn’t she have paid attention when it mattered for us, and not just her reputation?

if you arrived here having followed an instagram or facebook link
where she convinced you she was at my place out of concern for me or my well-being,
just turn around now.
i wrote this piece two weeks prior to the night she parked in front of my house,
turned her lights off, and called me twice,
and am as fine as someone can be
who was left after eight years of deep affection
and dedicated servitude and barred with an unwarranted domestic violence order she breaks at her convenience.
while i don’t suspect she reads this every day,
going to my house many days after this post was written to check on me seems like maybe too late to intercept.
she showed up because she was drunk
and behaves like a debilitated narcissist
with insatiable lust
for everything she doesn’t have
and little and temporary gratitude for anything she does.
she showed up because she wanted to fight or fuck, like she does every time she drinks heavily and has her meltdowns, which usually coincide with pre-menstruation and are substantially more intense during specific times of the year that most of you won’t believe (but i’ve tracked out of fear for my own well-being for at least four years). i know somehow, some of you are calling me misogynist, but i’m not even masculist.  i’m a humanist who has experienced inhumane abuse.

if you’re still reading, know i don’t hate her for her choices. i just finally realize and accept them.  i no longer respect her whimsical flightiness. it’s selfish and careless.
i hope you don’t hate her for any of that, either – i’m fairly confident none of you will.

her visit was the seventh
contact attempt she’s made
since she filed an unwarranted EPO on me in december,
most of them passive-aggressive.
the EPO was modified to a DVO and obligates me to remain paranoid whenever i’m out,
because if she shows up somewhere i am, i have to leave.  this includes my OWN HOME.
she stated she was scared of me in court
when what she meant was
she was tired of telling me to stop trying to fix us
because she thinks i’m used up or boring or something,
until she’s had her fill of new penises,
and egocentric self-propulsion
at the expense of others, climbing their social ladders to some end that won’t satiate her bottomless hunger for intensity.
after that, when she’s feeling alone,
she’ll let me know how much she misses and cares about me via text or blog post.
it’s happened this way several times already.
hopefully it won’t happen again for both our sakes.
(Update 20140321: Still happening)
(Update 20140407: Still happening)
(Update 20140416: Still happening – Full Moon)
(Update 20140418: Still happening)
(Update 20140420: Still happening)
(Update 20140425: Still happening)
(Update 20140514: Still happening – Full Moon)
(Update 20140805: Expecting me to update it again today.)
(Update 20140921: Still happening)

it’s also worth note that, historically, she’s just called the police to check on me
when she was concerned about my well-being
and we weren’t together.
not sure why the approach would have been different this time if she was legitimately concerned for me, being that she took the EPO out.  that method worked.
also noteworthy: had she just been there to check on me, she would have just driven off once my company, who confronted her, reminded her i couldn’t talk to her. obviously, i was alive and well.

also, this piece is a literary fugue on cancer
and music’s influence on my life,
and for someone as familiar with my work as she is,
i would like to believe she recognizes
that i am often a character in my compositions,
mostly in dark/obscure, fantastic and unrealistic circumstances or situations,
so there is nothing particularly unusual about this one.
she thinks i’m stupid, so maybe that’s why she didn’t bother figuring that out
by actually reading and thinking about the meaning of the piece – a common thematic behavior in our eight years together. she always defaulted to discounting me for my vulnerability instead of considering the relevance or substance of it and what I communicated. too busy hatin’ to hear anything.


maybe this time, she’ll have it figured out with one of you.

so, unless you’re here for me,
there’s nothing here for you
and you’re messing up my site analytics.

if you’re here because you like my writing,
enjoy the following piece,
come back for others,
sorry for this preface,
and feel free to contact me any time.


i finished recording my will
the first day of july.
it’s been almost three years
and the beneficiaries remain unchanged.

i finished composing my obituary
the first day of february.
it’s been almost three hours
and the survivors remain unchanged.

a canon i’ve never heard echoed from the back of my throat
as i spent today reading them;
a subtle, aching crescendo
from cricoid cartilage,
or thyroid,
or both.
a graceful, rhythmic diminuendo of
the value of life to loved ones,
vibrates counterpoint below tonsils.
bisbigliando in rondo,
extend the diaphragm,
respond with a yawn.

in five months, this piece will be a malignant three-year-old symphony,
scrawled across lymphatic staff paper.
it’ll be a dissonant thrum played in hip circles in this city.
over it, they’ll harmonize regurgitated lullabies they’ve heard like
“he was so young and talented”
or “he deserved it.”
or both.
it’s no use – i’ll already be sleeping.
i was always a minor third in
whole, sour triads she’ll never hold.
longest, dissonant, whitest noise.
fermata fermata fermata

I, R. Grey, being of sound mind and at least 18 years of age, declare that:
I’m to be unplugged as soon as possible, no matter what stage, heavily drugged, and organs donated to Friends of Wanamaker in PA (They started renovation in January 2014 so they need my best parts). All other worldly possessions and ether are hers, always were, to dispose of as she sees fit. This includes all future royalty checks, so she can buy those banjo lessons she always wanted, but won’t commit to any more than she did to cello, or my family, or hers, or me or my predecessors. I understand the full import of this declaration and I am emotionally and mentally competent to make this declaration. I execute this declaration, as my free and voluntary act, on this first day of February, 2014, in the City of Louisville, County of Jefferson, State of Kentucky.

OBITUARY (Please remove spaces as shown below for cost savings)

a niente