what everyone needs this new year's eve
I considered giving my two cent's worth on the NYE hub-bub but decided it wouldn't matter. I guess I have hit the point in life where standing around getting drunk and waiting for the anti-climax of midnight to strike...well, it just doesn't do it for me. I would prefer to spend the evening quietly with someone special. Aww fuck.
Just not up to yoga tonight--so think I'll sit in the tub and go to bed.
Maybe I'll wake up and this will all have just been a really really bad dream.
12/31/2004
12/30/2004
red polka-dot
Last night while I was making dinner I stopped to listen. Usually when there is no noise and a 20-month old around it spells trouble. First matches ("playing with matches" was the theme title of my Christmas card pictures of Lilly this year-thanks Beck, for pointing out that if I sent that one to the wrong people I would never see her again..)now what?
So I looked in her usual places--and found her in the bedroom playing with my underwear. Panties were ascue everywhere-- she laughed as I stooped to pick them up and noticed she had carefully tucked my favorite lilac pair into her travel bag.
At least someone gets to admire my undies these days.
So I looked in her usual places--and found her in the bedroom playing with my underwear. Panties were ascue everywhere-- she laughed as I stooped to pick them up and noticed she had carefully tucked my favorite lilac pair into her travel bag.
At least someone gets to admire my undies these days.
12/28/2004
mayfly
I love this song.
same with "the boy done wrong again" come on, sing a long. make me happy now.
life is good tonight. and the candles burn brightly. and if you'd only sing along I would be happier. We are having music wars here at the place. I turn mine up, he counters, and she does likewise. I am surprised we don't all kill each other. God, his music sucks.
You listenin? Cause I am laughing right now.
Belle And Sebastian - Mayfly Lyrics
Lovesick on a sunny afternoon
You are tired of staying in
You are waiting for the time
Mayfly, woken up when skys are clear
I don't mind you coming near
Keep me company till she comes again
You are the one who's privy to
I am the one who's making do
Because you saw him in the park
Because you saw him at the bridges with the people in the park
Cana was the start of something big
You were there in the beginning
You were there to see him play
Mayfly, woken up when sky's are blue
I don't mind the sight of you
Keep me company till she comes around
You are the one who's privy to
I am the one who's making do
Because you saw him at the celebrations standing at the side
He had the moves to save the day
But you would love him anyway
Lovesick, it came back upon yourself
You are the girl left on the shelf
You are incapable of playing the fool
Longing?o what's different today?
You sent the boys and girls away
You are concerned with matters lofty
But puzzled so it makes you sick
Your diary's looking like a bible with it's verses lost in time
And lost in meaning for the people who surround you
It's a crying shame
You know it's a crying shame
same with "the boy done wrong again" come on, sing a long. make me happy now.
life is good tonight. and the candles burn brightly. and if you'd only sing along I would be happier. We are having music wars here at the place. I turn mine up, he counters, and she does likewise. I am surprised we don't all kill each other. God, his music sucks.
You listenin? Cause I am laughing right now.
Belle And Sebastian - Mayfly Lyrics
Lovesick on a sunny afternoon
You are tired of staying in
You are waiting for the time
Mayfly, woken up when skys are clear
I don't mind you coming near
Keep me company till she comes again
You are the one who's privy to
I am the one who's making do
Because you saw him in the park
Because you saw him at the bridges with the people in the park
Cana was the start of something big
You were there in the beginning
You were there to see him play
Mayfly, woken up when sky's are blue
I don't mind the sight of you
Keep me company till she comes around
You are the one who's privy to
I am the one who's making do
Because you saw him at the celebrations standing at the side
He had the moves to save the day
But you would love him anyway
Lovesick, it came back upon yourself
You are the girl left on the shelf
You are incapable of playing the fool
Longing?o what's different today?
You sent the boys and girls away
You are concerned with matters lofty
But puzzled so it makes you sick
Your diary's looking like a bible with it's verses lost in time
And lost in meaning for the people who surround you
It's a crying shame
You know it's a crying shame
12/27/2004
my modern day woody allen--where are you?
I don't know which is better--the opening scene to Allen's Manhattan or the closing scene to Breakfast at Tiffany's. Just finished watching both. Woody Allen makes me laugh. Audrey Hep makes me think there is hope.
( Paul Varjak: You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to eachother, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness.")
I swear, there is nothing better than a man who can make me laugh. It's all in the timing. And if someone has good comic timing, well, you know what that means...
Actually, I take that back. Timing depends on both parties to work. It's either there or it isn't.
Alas, being a hopeful romantic can be problematic. But love is love is love--no matter the season for me.
So, What is next? Three Coins in the Fountain a movie about three American Girls travelling in Rome, each tossing a coin into the beautiful fountain of Trevi. The legend is that if you make a wish when you throw the coin into the fountain your wish will be granted. I am sure Rome is beautiful in January..
"Oh the comfort, the inexpressibe comfort, of feeling safe with a person.
Having neither to weigh thoughts or measure words.
But pour them all out, just as they are chaff and grain together,
knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them what is worth keeping,
And then, with the breath of kindness, blow them away."
-George Eliot
Here's to finding humor, timing and love--
but most of all, love.
Goodnight, sweet love.I wish on the moon for you and again say "Goodnight."
( Paul Varjak: You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to eachother, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness.")
I swear, there is nothing better than a man who can make me laugh. It's all in the timing. And if someone has good comic timing, well, you know what that means...
Actually, I take that back. Timing depends on both parties to work. It's either there or it isn't.
Alas, being a hopeful romantic can be problematic. But love is love is love--no matter the season for me.
So, What is next? Three Coins in the Fountain a movie about three American Girls travelling in Rome, each tossing a coin into the beautiful fountain of Trevi. The legend is that if you make a wish when you throw the coin into the fountain your wish will be granted. I am sure Rome is beautiful in January..
"Oh the comfort, the inexpressibe comfort, of feeling safe with a person.
Having neither to weigh thoughts or measure words.
But pour them all out, just as they are chaff and grain together,
knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them what is worth keeping,
And then, with the breath of kindness, blow them away."
-George Eliot
Here's to finding humor, timing and love--
but most of all, love.
Goodnight, sweet love.I wish on the moon for you and again say "Goodnight."
12/26/2004
"I’ve Lost Track of the World"
Holiday specials:
*My oldest and dearest friend called me up and before even saying hello, she said, "o.k. spill it sister...new address, new phone number, what in the hell is going on? I want details. NOW."
The last time we spoke was over 2 years ago.
Damn, I love real people. Happy 35 to you too, Erin.
*Feeling victorious at winning the battle over the snowdrifts, I drove into town to check out how my new car handled unplowed streets-- only to find our county was under a snow emergency. I watched some kids drive their crappy car THROUGH a mile high snowbank and then proceeded to spin out into the unpaved Kroger parking lot. They were laughing their asses off--probably more at me and my stunned expression than anything else. Ahh youth, glorious youth.
*My daughter's inability to comprehend the whole gift-giving scene. She wanted kisses, not presents. We left half of them unopened--and using the small trunk for an excuse, left most of them at grandma's house. My parting sentiments were, "I just don't have room for all of this stuff. And if dad tries to but that box in view of my back window and I have an accident..." Driving home I called and apologized. Just spending a few hours with them turns me back into the silent but raging beast of my youth. It's more fun watching my sisters quibble for mom's attention anyway.
* Watching old episodes of Benny Hill after a few drinks. Fun for the whole fucking family.
*THIS MOVIE. What a hoot.
*My oldest and dearest friend called me up and before even saying hello, she said, "o.k. spill it sister...new address, new phone number, what in the hell is going on? I want details. NOW."
The last time we spoke was over 2 years ago.
Damn, I love real people. Happy 35 to you too, Erin.
*Feeling victorious at winning the battle over the snowdrifts, I drove into town to check out how my new car handled unplowed streets-- only to find our county was under a snow emergency. I watched some kids drive their crappy car THROUGH a mile high snowbank and then proceeded to spin out into the unpaved Kroger parking lot. They were laughing their asses off--probably more at me and my stunned expression than anything else. Ahh youth, glorious youth.
*My daughter's inability to comprehend the whole gift-giving scene. She wanted kisses, not presents. We left half of them unopened--and using the small trunk for an excuse, left most of them at grandma's house. My parting sentiments were, "I just don't have room for all of this stuff. And if dad tries to but that box in view of my back window and I have an accident..." Driving home I called and apologized. Just spending a few hours with them turns me back into the silent but raging beast of my youth. It's more fun watching my sisters quibble for mom's attention anyway.
* Watching old episodes of Benny Hill after a few drinks. Fun for the whole fucking family.
*THIS MOVIE. What a hoot.
12/23/2004
"Blue and Wonder"
The downtown lights looked so beautiful last night with the snow falling. My little town was abandoned--and I could slink along, occasionally sqinting my eyes to make the christmas lights blur into a mess of light and color all around me.
It's nice to know what I am doing for New Year's Eve. I hate the dreaded holiday, especially since I don't spend much time with other people these days...
so 10 pm chanting and meditation, a sleep over and cold shower with almond oil followed by 3:45 am Sadhana. May the longtime sun shine upon you!
and finally..hitting home lyrics from the 1999 Bloomed album:
i've been stunned
and I've been turned
i've been undone and burned
i saw you as the answer to
years of blue and wonder
your voice shakes me through
but you don't know what I might be
you haven't seen the worst of me
but when your eyes move up I'm silent
**so put your arms around me
and pull your mouth up to mine
and what's that word
i forget sometimes
it's the one that means
the love has left your eyes
i'm thinking now when I first knew
i was lying with a stranger
you were curled up with a paper
in your little SOMA room
the telephone was pouring blue
and when I hung up with you
i was sick and sad and wished I had
a kiss to bring you over
**
i'm wondering of you now
and what happened to you
i remember words
that were said and sighed and written
but I hear things, you know
i hear the bottle broke us down
but not a word from you yet
and there's things that
even a drunk will never forget
**
I first heard the album at SOMA (how appropriate) and asked Irine, the coffeeshop girl, who the artist was...that was two years ago.
Most of my records went back to tracks for a resell my annual purging--and I remember pausing while holding this one before putting it back in the shelves. This was my favorite song. "Gauzy Dress" always had me thinking about pretty, young, flirty girls with long brown hair--none of which I am, so feeling yucky and inadequate I would usually fwd through that track. SAT-NAM And so it goes. And so it goes. Sat-Nam.
It's nice to know what I am doing for New Year's Eve. I hate the dreaded holiday, especially since I don't spend much time with other people these days...
so 10 pm chanting and meditation, a sleep over and cold shower with almond oil followed by 3:45 am Sadhana. May the longtime sun shine upon you!
and finally..hitting home lyrics from the 1999 Bloomed album:
i've been stunned
and I've been turned
i've been undone and burned
i saw you as the answer to
years of blue and wonder
your voice shakes me through
but you don't know what I might be
you haven't seen the worst of me
but when your eyes move up I'm silent
**so put your arms around me
and pull your mouth up to mine
and what's that word
i forget sometimes
it's the one that means
the love has left your eyes
i'm thinking now when I first knew
i was lying with a stranger
you were curled up with a paper
in your little SOMA room
the telephone was pouring blue
and when I hung up with you
i was sick and sad and wished I had
a kiss to bring you over
**
i'm wondering of you now
and what happened to you
i remember words
that were said and sighed and written
but I hear things, you know
i hear the bottle broke us down
but not a word from you yet
and there's things that
even a drunk will never forget
**
I first heard the album at SOMA (how appropriate) and asked Irine, the coffeeshop girl, who the artist was...that was two years ago.
Most of my records went back to tracks for a resell my annual purging--and I remember pausing while holding this one before putting it back in the shelves. This was my favorite song. "Gauzy Dress" always had me thinking about pretty, young, flirty girls with long brown hair--none of which I am, so feeling yucky and inadequate I would usually fwd through that track. SAT-NAM And so it goes. And so it goes. Sat-Nam.
12/22/2004
silk p.js
It's 9:15 a.m. and I am still in my silk jammies. From my window I can see my neighbors venturing out one by to excavate their cars. I can see them shiver and curse. The process takes each person about 10 minutes. Usually by this time in the morning I am already gone--to work or town. I hate sitting around at home. It's nice to see who lives above or below me--even if they are completely bundled up and faceless.
But today was different. I stayed in bed listening to cars crawling along the highway, occasionally that one car does a tailspin and the driver continues that pointless spinning wheel thing-y, digging himself deeper into a snowbank.
*Since I wasn't working yesterday, I was able to witness the parinoia of pre-snow storm blues strike the innocent people of Bloomington. It never fails, anyone with a television or radio click into "it's the end of the world" mode and have to buy a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread just in case. It cracks me up. I guess they forget that pizza CAN be delivered.
*= SIDE NOTE
While listening to public radio, my favorite lispy dj announced that the roads were terrible and we should stay inside unless totally necessary. Ha. Tell that to the idiot stranded outside my apartment.
It does look mighty purty out there. Wish I had a sled and a big husky dog...and maybe a strong companion..no matter.
I missed the solstice party last night. Decided that I would wait for the snow, watch a movie, sit in the tub and read until pruny, which is just what I did. I am sure the mandolins and banjos were fired up-- maybe next time.
I have overdosed on my music and picked up James for shits and giggles...some good stuff but not something I can play all the way through without skipping a few tunes. Also while killing time in town I hung around Howards to pet the kitties and found some cheap old classic Ella Fitz. Man, that girl could sing.
But today was different. I stayed in bed listening to cars crawling along the highway, occasionally that one car does a tailspin and the driver continues that pointless spinning wheel thing-y, digging himself deeper into a snowbank.
*Since I wasn't working yesterday, I was able to witness the parinoia of pre-snow storm blues strike the innocent people of Bloomington. It never fails, anyone with a television or radio click into "it's the end of the world" mode and have to buy a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread just in case. It cracks me up. I guess they forget that pizza CAN be delivered.
*= SIDE NOTE
While listening to public radio, my favorite lispy dj announced that the roads were terrible and we should stay inside unless totally necessary. Ha. Tell that to the idiot stranded outside my apartment.
It does look mighty purty out there. Wish I had a sled and a big husky dog...and maybe a strong companion..no matter.
I missed the solstice party last night. Decided that I would wait for the snow, watch a movie, sit in the tub and read until pruny, which is just what I did. I am sure the mandolins and banjos were fired up-- maybe next time.
I have overdosed on my music and picked up James for shits and giggles...some good stuff but not something I can play all the way through without skipping a few tunes. Also while killing time in town I hung around Howards to pet the kitties and found some cheap old classic Ella Fitz. Man, that girl could sing.
12/21/2004
"the promise"
I just finished watching Napolian Dynamite this sond was in the closing credits: Talk about flashback..
The Promise Lyrics
Artist: When In Rome
Album: The Promise
If you need a friend, don't look to a stranger,
You know in the end, I'll always be there.
But when you're in doubt, and when you're in danger,
Take a look all around, and I'll be there.
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you I will.
When your day is through, and so is your temper,
You know what to do, I'm gonna always be there.
Sometimes if I shout, it's not what's intended.
These words just come out, with no gripe to bear.
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you...
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
And if I had to walk the world, I'd make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you I will.
I gotta tell you, I gotta tell you, I need to tell you...
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you...
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
And if I had to walk the world, I'd make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you I will. I will. I will.
The Promise Lyrics
Artist: When In Rome
Album: The Promise
If you need a friend, don't look to a stranger,
You know in the end, I'll always be there.
But when you're in doubt, and when you're in danger,
Take a look all around, and I'll be there.
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you I will.
When your day is through, and so is your temper,
You know what to do, I'm gonna always be there.
Sometimes if I shout, it's not what's intended.
These words just come out, with no gripe to bear.
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you...
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
And if I had to walk the world, I'd make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you I will.
I gotta tell you, I gotta tell you, I need to tell you...
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you...
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
And if I had to walk the world, I'd make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you I will. I will. I will.
winter solstice
As you hear of me, so think of me.
I kiss your hand, and so I leave you. Farewell.."
Much Ado About Nothing, Benedick, Act IV, scene ii
Today is the winter solstice and it is going to snow starting at midnight. Could we ask for anything more? Ok, there is that Peace on Earth thing..
Not sure what to write today--I am feeling so disconnected from others. I've been thinking seriously about finding another job for many reasons. I am to the point where I feel that I have to hide out, that having a voice and an opposing opinion, that going against the majority gets me put out like the cat. So, I rebel, trying to stand up for myself, and it just makes everything worse. Not to mention I have no one at work that I feel comfortable just being with noone I can be myself around--the rest ignore me and now they think I am a real freak.
When everything has been stripped from you, everything that matters, it makes you seriously do some reprioritizing. Take away my work, my purpose, friends,take away my family, take away my pride, even my sanity--what is there? The alienation I feel at work is just beyond uncomfortable; beyond bearable anymore. I am a fighter--but this one, this one, I just don't know if it's worth the fight.
So I am thinking of you all but I know you don't care, or don't want to know. I have a heart and a soul. I have feelings. I will always love you--unconditionally.
I kiss your hand, and so I leave you. Farewell.."
Much Ado About Nothing, Benedick, Act IV, scene ii
Today is the winter solstice and it is going to snow starting at midnight. Could we ask for anything more? Ok, there is that Peace on Earth thing..
Not sure what to write today--I am feeling so disconnected from others. I've been thinking seriously about finding another job for many reasons. I am to the point where I feel that I have to hide out, that having a voice and an opposing opinion, that going against the majority gets me put out like the cat. So, I rebel, trying to stand up for myself, and it just makes everything worse. Not to mention I have no one at work that I feel comfortable just being with noone I can be myself around--the rest ignore me and now they think I am a real freak.
When everything has been stripped from you, everything that matters, it makes you seriously do some reprioritizing. Take away my work, my purpose, friends,take away my family, take away my pride, even my sanity--what is there? The alienation I feel at work is just beyond uncomfortable; beyond bearable anymore. I am a fighter--but this one, this one, I just don't know if it's worth the fight.
So I am thinking of you all but I know you don't care, or don't want to know. I have a heart and a soul. I have feelings. I will always love you--unconditionally.
12/19/2004
Man of the Year..Again?
Not Again
Who is on the committee for selecting the (wo)Man of the year anyway?
Can't help but wonder about the progress of my show and all the events leading up to its hasty takeover. It hurts. I feel expendable and insignificant. And while I think this time has been helpful in some ways, it has been harmful in others.
I know it is out of my control. You can tell that to my head. I just wish someone could explain it to my heart.
Who is on the committee for selecting the (wo)Man of the year anyway?
Can't help but wonder about the progress of my show and all the events leading up to its hasty takeover. It hurts. I feel expendable and insignificant. And while I think this time has been helpful in some ways, it has been harmful in others.
I know it is out of my control. You can tell that to my head. I just wish someone could explain it to my heart.
12/18/2004
Act 2, scene ii "my Lament" an aria
An analogy from Tall Steve on my life: I am in Act 2, scene ii of an opera (I decide what opera best fits my situation). There are 5 Acts. My question to him was how many intermissions there are.
So I think I figured it out. The puzzle pieces finally fit: kundalini yoga. Or just yoga in general. OK, everyone seems to be a few steps ahead of me. That is fine. The laugh hits me long after the punchline these days. And now unfortunately I have to wait around until Act 5 to see how this whole stupid life plays out. Sat-Nam-Sat-Nam.
What I want to say, what I am saying cannot be said. I just hope the vibrations can be felt from here. "When your self is in peace, then allthe surrounding shall be in peace." -Yogi Bhajan
So I think I figured it out. The puzzle pieces finally fit: kundalini yoga. Or just yoga in general. OK, everyone seems to be a few steps ahead of me. That is fine. The laugh hits me long after the punchline these days. And now unfortunately I have to wait around until Act 5 to see how this whole stupid life plays out. Sat-Nam-Sat-Nam.
What I want to say, what I am saying cannot be said. I just hope the vibrations can be felt from here. "When your self is in peace, then allthe surrounding shall be in peace." -Yogi Bhajan
..the silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life. Then, at the rim of vision, it gathered itself, and in one sweeping tide, rushed me to sleep. -S. Plath, The Bell Jar
a fine novel written by another fine, misunderstood woman.
I feel like I am on a vacation of sorts. I wake when I want, read, write,eat, drink and sleep whenever I want. No one bugs me..there is something to be said of true solitude. It's kindof a house arrest without the law. I have experienced the alternative--not my kind of living.
Tomorrow's my 35th birthday. It doesn't feel like it. In fact, I must have been given a calendar from 1995 or something because I cannot believe it's Christmas either. These have been the strangest, most odd, unbelievable few months. I feel like I am watching a movie of someone else's life and thinking,
"God, her life really sucks...and now she WHAT? Who turned her in? She murdered whom? Wait, she's really a MAN??? Fuck, what a fucked up movie. Shit, let's go get a beer."
The fates are not on my side this year. How many New Year's Resolutions is one person granted?
I like to smile when I hear people pouring out their woes to others in coffeeshoppes, in bars, in the grocery line. And it is never good to trivialize other people's shit. I mean it is stressing them out--no matter how pathetic their situation may be. Nevertheless, I am tempted to say, "Look lady, if that is all you have to worry about, you should shut your fat, loud mouth."
I mentioned to an old friend that working in Japan is looking better and better. He speaks fluent Japanese and would make a great travel companion. Even if he does like action movies and video games. I mean, we can't all be perfect.
So it's Saturday and my urge is to trip into manic mode and be the overachiever. But today, I am taking it easy. Cleaning behind the refrigerator can wait. and something ot leave with you:
she appears in his dreams
but in his car, and in his arms
a dream could mean anything
a cheap sunset on a television set could upset her
but he never could
remember to remember me
standing still in your past
floating fast like a hummingbird
his goal in life was to be an echo
the type of sound that floats around
and then back down like a feather
but in the deep chrome canyons of the loudest Manhattans
no one could hear him
or anything
"Hummingbird" Tweedy
a fine novel written by another fine, misunderstood woman.
I feel like I am on a vacation of sorts. I wake when I want, read, write,eat, drink and sleep whenever I want. No one bugs me..there is something to be said of true solitude. It's kindof a house arrest without the law. I have experienced the alternative--not my kind of living.
Tomorrow's my 35th birthday. It doesn't feel like it. In fact, I must have been given a calendar from 1995 or something because I cannot believe it's Christmas either. These have been the strangest, most odd, unbelievable few months. I feel like I am watching a movie of someone else's life and thinking,
"God, her life really sucks...and now she WHAT? Who turned her in? She murdered whom? Wait, she's really a MAN??? Fuck, what a fucked up movie. Shit, let's go get a beer."
The fates are not on my side this year. How many New Year's Resolutions is one person granted?
I like to smile when I hear people pouring out their woes to others in coffeeshoppes, in bars, in the grocery line. And it is never good to trivialize other people's shit. I mean it is stressing them out--no matter how pathetic their situation may be. Nevertheless, I am tempted to say, "Look lady, if that is all you have to worry about, you should shut your fat, loud mouth."
I mentioned to an old friend that working in Japan is looking better and better. He speaks fluent Japanese and would make a great travel companion. Even if he does like action movies and video games. I mean, we can't all be perfect.
So it's Saturday and my urge is to trip into manic mode and be the overachiever. But today, I am taking it easy. Cleaning behind the refrigerator can wait. and something ot leave with you:
she appears in his dreams
but in his car, and in his arms
a dream could mean anything
a cheap sunset on a television set could upset her
but he never could
remember to remember me
standing still in your past
floating fast like a hummingbird
his goal in life was to be an echo
the type of sound that floats around
and then back down like a feather
but in the deep chrome canyons of the loudest Manhattans
no one could hear him
or anything
"Hummingbird" Tweedy
12/17/2004
"cherry ghost"
***
Just got back from seeing Alexander Paine's Sideways. Paine also directed Election and About Schmidt..I was the the youngest one in the theatre (no kidding). A good movie, several good moments a good example of Everyman's life. Surely we can all relate to someone in the film. (is that redundant?)
It's Friday night. I am here. And it's ok.
jeff tweedy can write some damn good lyrics...
I especially like "muzzle of bees", "company onmy back", and "wishful thinking" all from the latest ghost is born .
It's a big party weekend. Maybe next year. There's always next year.
Just got back from seeing Alexander Paine's Sideways. Paine also directed Election and About Schmidt..I was the the youngest one in the theatre (no kidding). A good movie, several good moments a good example of Everyman's life. Surely we can all relate to someone in the film. (is that redundant?)
It's Friday night. I am here. And it's ok.
jeff tweedy can write some damn good lyrics...
I especially like "muzzle of bees", "company onmy back", and "wishful thinking" all from the latest ghost is born .
It's a big party weekend. Maybe next year. There's always next year.
12/07/2004
"Mass Romantic"
Mass romantic fool wears Foster Grants, his books on tape ring true, like everyone wants to say "I love you" to someone on the radio.The first voice in the hollowed stars, now the one true loves, and author of "My Life Among the Kids Who Go to Shows." This is not the way. In the streetlight dawn, this street turns on. Mass romantic fool, separated by sheets when the curtain calls you, speaking on the themes of stolen virtue missing from the radio. Now this romantic duel is into the streets, bon appetit, you've eaten me alive you realize. This is not the way. In the streetlight dawn, this beat turns on. This boy's life among the electrical lights.
-TNP
-TNP
12/06/2004
Willard library
...Is located in a pasture a few miles beyond Lake Griffy. After an inspiring rehearsal yesterday, I called two close friends and invited myself over. We stood at the base of what will soon be a pole barn--huge. She and he discussed dimensions, straw and timeline while I sat in the warm December sun.
We decided to hike back through their property, quiet with only the crunching of leaves under our feet, occasionally commenting on a passing bird, identifying a tree or the enormous horse piles scattered like landmines. My mind was free.
After several miles, we arrived at a small log cabin. And further still there was a quaint green cabin with a bright blue door and a gold door knob. This was Willard Library. The shelves were stacked with mostly children's books, many of which are Newbery Medal winners. Some were ages old. The room reminded me of my grandmother's attic--a treasure full of old toys and books. We stayed and read a few books aloud and watched the sun set through the pained window. I checked out a few books for my daughter--in good faith that I will return them.
Ari explained the history of the library and the generosity of the old man who built it. The library was a cross between something out of Rand's Anthem and The Darling Family Bedroom--Peter Pan. We tracked back, passing the horses that helped to carry the materials out to this desolate space--their hooves as big around as my thighs.
Upon our return, we drank hard cider. Ari played his mandolin, I played guitar.
I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my Sunday.
Ask me about the 4 D's: Dancing, Dating, Dramatics, Debating... Lolita
We decided to hike back through their property, quiet with only the crunching of leaves under our feet, occasionally commenting on a passing bird, identifying a tree or the enormous horse piles scattered like landmines. My mind was free.
After several miles, we arrived at a small log cabin. And further still there was a quaint green cabin with a bright blue door and a gold door knob. This was Willard Library. The shelves were stacked with mostly children's books, many of which are Newbery Medal winners. Some were ages old. The room reminded me of my grandmother's attic--a treasure full of old toys and books. We stayed and read a few books aloud and watched the sun set through the pained window. I checked out a few books for my daughter--in good faith that I will return them.
Ari explained the history of the library and the generosity of the old man who built it. The library was a cross between something out of Rand's Anthem and The Darling Family Bedroom--Peter Pan. We tracked back, passing the horses that helped to carry the materials out to this desolate space--their hooves as big around as my thighs.
Upon our return, we drank hard cider. Ari played his mandolin, I played guitar.
I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my Sunday.
Ask me about the 4 D's: Dancing, Dating, Dramatics, Debating... Lolita
12/05/2004
I remain....
There is nothing more revolting than the sound of two cars colliding--especially when one is yours, and it is brand new. The horrible sound of metal and fiberglass on metal is just horrifying. Fortunately, neither party was hurt in the incident.
When it rains, it pours. God, I hate that saying no matter how true.
Not to my surprise, I saw no one from school at the shows this weekend. My next two shows are going to be brilliant--I can feel it--the creativity has surged these past few months. You have to put it somewhere, I guess.
I am reading this book recommended by my therapist about controlling energy, using intuitive thoughts and channeling creativity. I have never quite had someone explain how artists work so well before. The preshow meditation was helpful yesterday.
I have been trying to figure out a way to put this into words--and I will most likely fail as I am just letting it flow now.
It strikes me as funny, how being the one to leave a bad situation I am also the one who sacrifices everything. With every visit, I see my daughter changing, and it pains me to leave her. I miss my cats terribly. The drive to and from town is now a torturous ride--I cry uncontrollably--both ways. While talking to acquaintances who ask how the family is, I never know how to respond. And even more painful when they ask how my daughter is. While waiting to be seated at any restaurant the question, "are you waiting for someone?" or "just one today?" "will someone be joining you?" is crushing. I usually counter with, " joining me? Not that I'm aware..." Or "just one..today and every day.." Sarcasm. Fuck Yeah.
The guy who lives next door to me was leaving as I came home and so I introduced myself, seeing we were neighbors and all. While passing in the narrow hallway, he said something incoherent and walked on.
Unfortunately, having extended conversations with people is becoming painfully difficult now. And when I call someone, after a few seconds I want to hang up. When I am out, I like to listen to other people sitting around me just to feel part of it.
Can someone please tell me this is only temporary? Can someone please say it gets better? Who will stand with me? Who will stand by me? Before it consumes me completely--before I can no longer get out of bed. I can't bear this loneliness and isolation much longer.
"half of the time we're gone but we don't know where and we don't know where..."
here I am. --S. and G.
Your good vibes would be appreciated.
When it rains, it pours. God, I hate that saying no matter how true.
Not to my surprise, I saw no one from school at the shows this weekend. My next two shows are going to be brilliant--I can feel it--the creativity has surged these past few months. You have to put it somewhere, I guess.
I am reading this book recommended by my therapist about controlling energy, using intuitive thoughts and channeling creativity. I have never quite had someone explain how artists work so well before. The preshow meditation was helpful yesterday.
I have been trying to figure out a way to put this into words--and I will most likely fail as I am just letting it flow now.
It strikes me as funny, how being the one to leave a bad situation I am also the one who sacrifices everything. With every visit, I see my daughter changing, and it pains me to leave her. I miss my cats terribly. The drive to and from town is now a torturous ride--I cry uncontrollably--both ways. While talking to acquaintances who ask how the family is, I never know how to respond. And even more painful when they ask how my daughter is. While waiting to be seated at any restaurant the question, "are you waiting for someone?" or "just one today?" "will someone be joining you?" is crushing. I usually counter with, " joining me? Not that I'm aware..." Or "just one..today and every day.." Sarcasm. Fuck Yeah.
The guy who lives next door to me was leaving as I came home and so I introduced myself, seeing we were neighbors and all. While passing in the narrow hallway, he said something incoherent and walked on.
Unfortunately, having extended conversations with people is becoming painfully difficult now. And when I call someone, after a few seconds I want to hang up. When I am out, I like to listen to other people sitting around me just to feel part of it.
Can someone please tell me this is only temporary? Can someone please say it gets better? Who will stand with me? Who will stand by me? Before it consumes me completely--before I can no longer get out of bed. I can't bear this loneliness and isolation much longer.
"half of the time we're gone but we don't know where and we don't know where..."
here I am. --S. and G.
Your good vibes would be appreciated.
12/01/2004
glad tidings
It's hard to see your father cry. I have only witnessed it twice; once when we buried his mother, and the other time, when I was really sick. Last night was the third time. And listening to the choked up sobs and snot blowing over a cell phone makes it so---surreal. I just sat there--not sure what to say.
The court date is set for Monday, December 20; the day after my birthday, the day after my babe will spend with her other family celebrating Christmas. The judge would not waive the court fee, so I have to find the cash to pay for that as well.
After a long talk, the longest talk I have ever had with my dad, he passed the phone to my mom and she asked, "Well, should I get him a Christmas present?"
I don't know mom. I don't know.
The court date is set for Monday, December 20; the day after my birthday, the day after my babe will spend with her other family celebrating Christmas. The judge would not waive the court fee, so I have to find the cash to pay for that as well.
After a long talk, the longest talk I have ever had with my dad, he passed the phone to my mom and she asked, "Well, should I get him a Christmas present?"
I don't know mom. I don't know.
11/30/2004
"how heavy the days..."
How heavy the days are.
There's not a fire that can warm me,
Not a sun to laugh with me,
Everything bare,
Everything cold and merciless,
And even the beloved clear
Stars look desolately down,
Since I learned in my heart that
Love can die. -H. Hesse
There's not a fire that can warm me,
Not a sun to laugh with me,
Everything bare,
Everything cold and merciless,
And even the beloved clear
Stars look desolately down,
Since I learned in my heart that
Love can die. -H. Hesse
11/29/2004
connections
soul mate.
something stirs in me when people start talking about that concept. Is it a tangible idea? As a person who can't say I have any people that I connect I scoff at it. But part of me hopes deep down that there is a chance--however slight--- that they are out there somewhere. So if you're there, show yourself.
In the mean time, back to work.
something stirs in me when people start talking about that concept. Is it a tangible idea? As a person who can't say I have any people that I connect I scoff at it. But part of me hopes deep down that there is a chance--however slight--- that they are out there somewhere. So if you're there, show yourself.
In the mean time, back to work.
11/28/2004
Lost mitten
He came through the line twice-- a tall man with large hands. His fingers were encrusted with dirt.
While driving into town this morning, I saw him walking down Rogers. I know him.
I enjoyed looking each person in the face. I made mental note as to who made eye contact, who smiled, who remained guarded. One man looked like The Edge. I told him so after his 3rd or 4th time back up to the line. He was pleased to hear it.
While cleaning up after last call, he came back up,
"You guys rock!" He was so genuine.
"We know it," I said jokingly. He made my holiday.
Working with a group of young, naive, priviledged college girls was, let's just say, interesting. Why were they here? They had to fulfill a requirement for class. They chatted about school and classes-- three of them were planning on going to law school, the other, med school. Since I have been contemplating the idea of going back myself, I probed a bit deeper.
"What type of law are you interested in?"
"I don't really care. I just want to make money. My boyfriend is planning to go to med school.. Would you like corn or pasta?"
"Huh." I admired her ridiculously lofty goal. Funny what information people choose to disclose.
"Wow. I have never used a mop before," the plump one said trying to lift the heavy thing from its bucket. I stared at her, my mouth gaping.
I felt sorry for them. They looked at each person with such apathy, filling the trays, getting their credits, going back home to family. What lessons were learned last night, I wonder?
**
The last few days alone have had me thinking about love actually. And friendship. And I am sad to think that those never really did exist between us. I like to see the best in all people--but generally, people only want what they can get out of you--with as little energy as possible.
Dad's Thanksgiving prayer asked for blessings on the President, our troops overseas and strength in the faith. I was the only one who kepot my eyes open, which is probably a good thing, because the look on my face was of outright horror.
Lots of big decisions on my plate. I am afraid to trust, afraid to love, afraid of being taken for a ride, again.
While driving into town this morning, I saw him walking down Rogers. I know him.
I enjoyed looking each person in the face. I made mental note as to who made eye contact, who smiled, who remained guarded. One man looked like The Edge. I told him so after his 3rd or 4th time back up to the line. He was pleased to hear it.
While cleaning up after last call, he came back up,
"You guys rock!" He was so genuine.
"We know it," I said jokingly. He made my holiday.
Working with a group of young, naive, priviledged college girls was, let's just say, interesting. Why were they here? They had to fulfill a requirement for class. They chatted about school and classes-- three of them were planning on going to law school, the other, med school. Since I have been contemplating the idea of going back myself, I probed a bit deeper.
"What type of law are you interested in?"
"I don't really care. I just want to make money. My boyfriend is planning to go to med school.. Would you like corn or pasta?"
"Huh." I admired her ridiculously lofty goal. Funny what information people choose to disclose.
"Wow. I have never used a mop before," the plump one said trying to lift the heavy thing from its bucket. I stared at her, my mouth gaping.
I felt sorry for them. They looked at each person with such apathy, filling the trays, getting their credits, going back home to family. What lessons were learned last night, I wonder?
**
The last few days alone have had me thinking about love actually. And friendship. And I am sad to think that those never really did exist between us. I like to see the best in all people--but generally, people only want what they can get out of you--with as little energy as possible.
Dad's Thanksgiving prayer asked for blessings on the President, our troops overseas and strength in the faith. I was the only one who kepot my eyes open, which is probably a good thing, because the look on my face was of outright horror.
Lots of big decisions on my plate. I am afraid to trust, afraid to love, afraid of being taken for a ride, again.
11/27/2004
a day in hell: cat on a hot tin roof relived
later that day....
It must be movie weekend cold and rainy with no fireplace is the recipe for movie time. I just saw The Incredibles. A great way to spend two hours. I think I was the only person laughing out loud in the place. It feels good to laugh.
I heard The remade Ladykillers was not as good as the first. Nothing ever is. But I still need to finish the one I currently have in the machine. My brother in law is a film critic--he recommended an old 40's Noir "The Set-Up" and also a new release called Sideways. Not sure if it's playing in town, but here's to hoping.
I stopped by the house today to pick up my mail. It was strange; the smells, the changes in decor, not a good feeling. Hopefully this will pass.
On the eve of Thanksgiving I witnessed the first snowfall under the lamplight. It was late but I wanted to tell someone. The excitement was simliar to the feeling I used to get when school was cancelled. Although this time, I wasn't sure whom to call--so I watched it through the blinds and went to bed.
Not much to say about the passing holiday but I was able to escape the tension in tact and without many questions. With my birthday in less than a month and Christmas shortly thereafter, I will have to learn to deal with happy coupledom conversations: painting the dining room, the new bedroom suite, surprise birthday presents with thought from newleywed hubbies, putting up christmas decorations, fussing over food preparation, etc.
And then there is "Big Daddy." Enough said.
Just watched the modern day film of Plato's Symposium last night. I didn't find the acting terribly convincing but the whole concept was fairly entertaining.
The other film I picked up on a fluke has been thoroughly entertaining--The Ladykillers. Below is a review from the EFC.
Things I noticed today:
*absent-minded youngish professor leaving his keys and exiting out the entrance of the post office. When I retrieved them for him after he nearly ran me down in the line, he looked at me like I handed him a winning lottery ticket. Didn't know I had such an affect/effect on people.
* the peace and calm in the library on an early Saturday morning. Also the delicious smell of books. I love library gnomes.
*my anxiety and yet the thrill I feel of working at the Community Kitchen today.
*law school loftiness...
THE EFC REVIEW: The Ladykillers
It certainly seems like an artistic and potentially profitable coup that the Coen Brothers were able to get Tom Hanks to star in their latest comedy. And surely it won't hurt the movie that it shares a title with a quietly adored old British comedy. But the one thing working against 'The Ladykillers' is that, while it's a great goofball comedy, the movie fans will want to know how it measures up to the Coens' previous efforts. Judged on that scale alone, this new one is a mite disappointing; on just about any other level, 'The Ladykillers' is a dark and hilarious success across the board.
It must be really difficult once you've made 10 or 12 fantastic movies; everyone expects that level to be maintained. So when the Coens decided to go high-end with their Clooney / Zeta-Jones affair, we felt slighted when it wasn't up to the standards of a Fargo or a Raising Arizona. But like I insisted upon the release of Intolerable Cruelty: even a mildly disappointing Coens flick is better than 92% of anything else playing at the multiplex.
So while The Ladykillers doesn't match the brilliant lunacy of a Big Lebowski or an O Brother...who really cares? Judged on its own merits, The Ladykillers is odd and ingratiating and consistently amusing enough to earn your twelve dollar box office donation. Sometimes a solid triple is just as satisfying as a home run, and (thanks mainly to the inspired work of Tom Hanks and some of the patented Coens lunacy) The Ladykillers is, at the very least, a 2-run double.
Spun off from the 1955 Alec Guinness comedy of the same name, The Ladykillers is about four clueless criminals, a sweet-natured old lady, a big pile of cash, and an uproariously verbose ringleader who goes by the name of Professor G.H. Dorr. The conniving crooks, posing as Renaissance Fair musicians, set up shop in granny's old root cellar while scheming to loot the local casino office. Needless to say, their criminal plans go awry. Early and often.
Much of the film consists of your typical heist contrivances, only filtered through the brilliantly twisted eyes of the brothers Coen. But this time the brothers have Tom Hanks as their lead, and it proves a match made in heaven. Mega-huge superstars like Hanks and George Clooney seem to thrive under the employ of the Coens; to call Hanks' performance here 'one of his funniest ever' seems a lofty compliment (hey he's a funny guy), but it is an accurate one. The always-affable Mr. Hanks gets to wrap his tongue around dozens of long and twisty little monologues; the Coens' intellectually amusing verbosity discovers a newfound friend in Tom Hanks. His breathlessly devious performance is a thing of comedic beauty; the words spilling from his mouth are the arcane icing on a mildly misshapen cake.
The brothers are also somehow able to elicit a strong supporting performance from the generally irritating Marlon Wayans, while crafty character actors like J.K. Simmons (last seen as J. Jonah Jameson in Spider-Man) and Stephen Root (now a Coens staple) steal a few scenes for themselves. Lovable old granny figure Irma P. Hall contributes an excellent performance; her handful of scenes between she and Hanks are near-priceless.
Special notice is due to Roger Deakins' amazingly lovely cinematography and the resoundingly warm and gospel-heavy score by Carter Burwell. And whoever trained the cat (oh yeah, keep your eye on the cat) deserves a cash bonus, because that skinny little furball earned some solid giggles all by herself.
You could be a 'glass half empty' person and acknowledge that 'The Ladykillers' doesn't measure up to the Coens' finest works. Or you could be an appreciative optimist like myself and acknowledge the fact that, after eleven movies, Joel & Ethan have yet to release ONE sub-par flick. 'The Ladykillers' may not rank among the Coens' most excellent films, but I bet it still ends up as one of this year's best comedies.
It must be movie weekend cold and rainy with no fireplace is the recipe for movie time. I just saw The Incredibles. A great way to spend two hours. I think I was the only person laughing out loud in the place. It feels good to laugh.
I heard The remade Ladykillers was not as good as the first. Nothing ever is. But I still need to finish the one I currently have in the machine. My brother in law is a film critic--he recommended an old 40's Noir "The Set-Up" and also a new release called Sideways. Not sure if it's playing in town, but here's to hoping.
I stopped by the house today to pick up my mail. It was strange; the smells, the changes in decor, not a good feeling. Hopefully this will pass.
On the eve of Thanksgiving I witnessed the first snowfall under the lamplight. It was late but I wanted to tell someone. The excitement was simliar to the feeling I used to get when school was cancelled. Although this time, I wasn't sure whom to call--so I watched it through the blinds and went to bed.
Not much to say about the passing holiday but I was able to escape the tension in tact and without many questions. With my birthday in less than a month and Christmas shortly thereafter, I will have to learn to deal with happy coupledom conversations: painting the dining room, the new bedroom suite, surprise birthday presents with thought from newleywed hubbies, putting up christmas decorations, fussing over food preparation, etc.
And then there is "Big Daddy." Enough said.
Just watched the modern day film of Plato's Symposium last night. I didn't find the acting terribly convincing but the whole concept was fairly entertaining.
The other film I picked up on a fluke has been thoroughly entertaining--The Ladykillers. Below is a review from the EFC.
Things I noticed today:
*absent-minded youngish professor leaving his keys and exiting out the entrance of the post office. When I retrieved them for him after he nearly ran me down in the line, he looked at me like I handed him a winning lottery ticket. Didn't know I had such an affect/effect on people.
* the peace and calm in the library on an early Saturday morning. Also the delicious smell of books. I love library gnomes.
*my anxiety and yet the thrill I feel of working at the Community Kitchen today.
*law school loftiness...
THE EFC REVIEW: The Ladykillers
It certainly seems like an artistic and potentially profitable coup that the Coen Brothers were able to get Tom Hanks to star in their latest comedy. And surely it won't hurt the movie that it shares a title with a quietly adored old British comedy. But the one thing working against 'The Ladykillers' is that, while it's a great goofball comedy, the movie fans will want to know how it measures up to the Coens' previous efforts. Judged on that scale alone, this new one is a mite disappointing; on just about any other level, 'The Ladykillers' is a dark and hilarious success across the board.
It must be really difficult once you've made 10 or 12 fantastic movies; everyone expects that level to be maintained. So when the Coens decided to go high-end with their Clooney / Zeta-Jones affair, we felt slighted when it wasn't up to the standards of a Fargo or a Raising Arizona. But like I insisted upon the release of Intolerable Cruelty: even a mildly disappointing Coens flick is better than 92% of anything else playing at the multiplex.
So while The Ladykillers doesn't match the brilliant lunacy of a Big Lebowski or an O Brother...who really cares? Judged on its own merits, The Ladykillers is odd and ingratiating and consistently amusing enough to earn your twelve dollar box office donation. Sometimes a solid triple is just as satisfying as a home run, and (thanks mainly to the inspired work of Tom Hanks and some of the patented Coens lunacy) The Ladykillers is, at the very least, a 2-run double.
Spun off from the 1955 Alec Guinness comedy of the same name, The Ladykillers is about four clueless criminals, a sweet-natured old lady, a big pile of cash, and an uproariously verbose ringleader who goes by the name of Professor G.H. Dorr. The conniving crooks, posing as Renaissance Fair musicians, set up shop in granny's old root cellar while scheming to loot the local casino office. Needless to say, their criminal plans go awry. Early and often.
Much of the film consists of your typical heist contrivances, only filtered through the brilliantly twisted eyes of the brothers Coen. But this time the brothers have Tom Hanks as their lead, and it proves a match made in heaven. Mega-huge superstars like Hanks and George Clooney seem to thrive under the employ of the Coens; to call Hanks' performance here 'one of his funniest ever' seems a lofty compliment (hey he's a funny guy), but it is an accurate one. The always-affable Mr. Hanks gets to wrap his tongue around dozens of long and twisty little monologues; the Coens' intellectually amusing verbosity discovers a newfound friend in Tom Hanks. His breathlessly devious performance is a thing of comedic beauty; the words spilling from his mouth are the arcane icing on a mildly misshapen cake.
The brothers are also somehow able to elicit a strong supporting performance from the generally irritating Marlon Wayans, while crafty character actors like J.K. Simmons (last seen as J. Jonah Jameson in Spider-Man) and Stephen Root (now a Coens staple) steal a few scenes for themselves. Lovable old granny figure Irma P. Hall contributes an excellent performance; her handful of scenes between she and Hanks are near-priceless.
Special notice is due to Roger Deakins' amazingly lovely cinematography and the resoundingly warm and gospel-heavy score by Carter Burwell. And whoever trained the cat (oh yeah, keep your eye on the cat) deserves a cash bonus, because that skinny little furball earned some solid giggles all by herself.
You could be a 'glass half empty' person and acknowledge that 'The Ladykillers' doesn't measure up to the Coens' finest works. Or you could be an appreciative optimist like myself and acknowledge the fact that, after eleven movies, Joel & Ethan have yet to release ONE sub-par flick. 'The Ladykillers' may not rank among the Coens' most excellent films, but I bet it still ends up as one of this year's best comedies.
11/24/2004
mixology
Making a mixed cd for someone requires great care and sincerity. It's a lot like picking out the right birthday card for your mom--certain things have to be there--sentiment, words, images created by lyrics all packaged neatly in a cool jewel box. Depending on the person, you want to include songs that remind you of them and they of you. Or perhaps hint at how you feel about them. I love to make them for people I care about. The only problem is you put yourself out there when you share songs--kind of like poetry. And you can't take it back.
What's even worse is when you receive no feedback from the person as to whether or not they liked it--or (god help them) understood it. I am sure most of mine have long been tossed, made into coasters or colorful mobiles. I guess that is something?
I've been holding this one mix aside--waiting to send to a long-distance friend--but I realized that it would go unappreciated. So I kept it for myself.
I haven't received a personal mix from someone since 1994. Until yesterday. So thanks to my observant student who noticed that I needed a pick me up.
To you I wish a Happy Thanksgiving. To all the rest....well.....
What's even worse is when you receive no feedback from the person as to whether or not they liked it--or (god help them) understood it. I am sure most of mine have long been tossed, made into coasters or colorful mobiles. I guess that is something?
I've been holding this one mix aside--waiting to send to a long-distance friend--but I realized that it would go unappreciated. So I kept it for myself.
I haven't received a personal mix from someone since 1994. Until yesterday. So thanks to my observant student who noticed that I needed a pick me up.
To you I wish a Happy Thanksgiving. To all the rest....well.....
11/23/2004
Metaphor for life: Rush Hour Traffic
While driving home from Indy last night I was sitting in the midst of traffic, watching the stream of tail and break lights pulse in front of me. A red river or stream. A ribbon of light. The stop and go was driving me insane. And once you are on the freeway, there is no slowing down or getting off.
After three hours of back and forth and mean, rude, apathetic people, the papers are filed. They really need to find someone who has some compassion manning the counter. I mean it's hard enough to go through with the proceedings and then you have to give them to someone who could give a damn. I feel my heart just drying up like an old prune. Solitude is King. Come take me away.
After three hours of back and forth and mean, rude, apathetic people, the papers are filed. They really need to find someone who has some compassion manning the counter. I mean it's hard enough to go through with the proceedings and then you have to give them to someone who could give a damn. I feel my heart just drying up like an old prune. Solitude is King. Come take me away.
11/22/2004
"I see Bastard People"
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
-Taming of the Shrew
I have found there are some people in this world who cannot make polite conversation. It is difficult if not impossible to understand this particular makeup of person. I can talk to pretty much anyone and it's always lighthearted. Now granted, I am not ugly and I do have a really good sense of humor on most days..So the exchange of words, you would think, would be fairly harmless. It boggles. It stupefies, really. And it makes me sad to think we have come so far---only to be right back where we used to be.
So I feel sorry for you people who have trouble casually talking to another person who wants nothing more from you than kindness.
It's hard to live alone--and when the babe stays all weekend, it again becomes a non-stop dance--she dodges, I parry. I am spent.
Just a few priceless moments:
*No Elmo DVD--up at 4:35a.m. to Wallmart: a quest.
*Out of diapers. Had to resort to a swimmer and doubling up on pants--back to Wallmart, changing her on the cold floor in the Infant section.
*Words words words...She is the most talkative, outgoing, curious creature I have ever known.
Together we are Hester and Pearl. Pearl and Hester by the flowing creek.
-Taming of the Shrew
I have found there are some people in this world who cannot make polite conversation. It is difficult if not impossible to understand this particular makeup of person. I can talk to pretty much anyone and it's always lighthearted. Now granted, I am not ugly and I do have a really good sense of humor on most days..So the exchange of words, you would think, would be fairly harmless. It boggles. It stupefies, really. And it makes me sad to think we have come so far---only to be right back where we used to be.
So I feel sorry for you people who have trouble casually talking to another person who wants nothing more from you than kindness.
It's hard to live alone--and when the babe stays all weekend, it again becomes a non-stop dance--she dodges, I parry. I am spent.
Just a few priceless moments:
*No Elmo DVD--up at 4:35a.m. to Wallmart: a quest.
*Out of diapers. Had to resort to a swimmer and doubling up on pants--back to Wallmart, changing her on the cold floor in the Infant section.
*Words words words...She is the most talkative, outgoing, curious creature I have ever known.
Together we are Hester and Pearl. Pearl and Hester by the flowing creek.
11/18/2004
Word of the day-- delicate
While I was making my daughter dinner, she stood by the front door holding her coat. "Outside?" and "Daddy?" were the only words I could make out of her babble.
Scenes from Mrs. Doubtfire played through my mind. I put the spoon down and went to her.
***
6:15 a.m. traffic rolls on Second Street. We have our routines and most folks who are up and out at this time generally move a lot faster than the rest of the population. I appreciate that. But some days I envy the type B person. Leisurely sipping coffee, reading the paper and whatever else they do...try living with one of these people. A lesson in patience, let me tell you.
I am slowly wading into the holidays. My favorite time of year (ugh). Today I dug out Messiah. "The Halleulah Chorus" always puts a lump in my throat the size of a softball. Handel beats the crap out of that miserable, peppy Vince G. and his trio playing those tired Charlie Brown Songs.
Lolita is moving right along. I find it disturbing (perhaps with a young nymphette of my own) that there are predators in my own backyard lusting after young girls.
***
Scenes from Mrs. Doubtfire played through my mind. I put the spoon down and went to her.
***
6:15 a.m. traffic rolls on Second Street. We have our routines and most folks who are up and out at this time generally move a lot faster than the rest of the population. I appreciate that. But some days I envy the type B person. Leisurely sipping coffee, reading the paper and whatever else they do...try living with one of these people. A lesson in patience, let me tell you.
I am slowly wading into the holidays. My favorite time of year (ugh). Today I dug out Messiah. "The Halleulah Chorus" always puts a lump in my throat the size of a softball. Handel beats the crap out of that miserable, peppy Vince G. and his trio playing those tired Charlie Brown Songs.
Lolita is moving right along. I find it disturbing (perhaps with a young nymphette of my own) that there are predators in my own backyard lusting after young girls.
***
11/16/2004
"The true seeker"
"Only when the lamp of search, of earnest striving, of longing desire, of passionate devotion, of fervid love, of rapture, and ecstasy, is kindled within the seeker's heart, and the breeze of His loving-kindness is wafted upon his soul, will the darkness of error be dispelled, the mists of doubts and misgivings be dissipated, and the lights of knowledge and certitude envelop his being.
At that hour will the mystic Herald, bearing the joyful tidings of the Spirit, shine forth from the City of God resplendent as the morn, and, through the trumpet-blast of knowledge, will awaken the heart, the soul, and the spirit from the slumber of negligence.
Then will the manifold favours and outpouring grace of the holy and everlasting Spirit confer such new life upon the seeker that he will find himself endowed with a new eye, a new ear, a new heart, and a new mind. He will contemplate the manifest signs of the universe, and will penetrate the hidden mysteries of the soul.
Gazing with the eye of God, he will perceive within every atom a door that leadeth him to the stations of absolute certitude. He will discover in all things the mysteries of divine Revelation and the evidences of an everlasting manifestation."
-Baha'u'llah (Kitab-i-Iqan)
red tape.
people chomping on their apples or potato chips.
awkward silence in lunch rooms.
slow-witted people--and the combination slow wit and slow driving.
mirages.
people who don't get the hint when you obviously want them to leave.
asumptions.
10:45a.m. Courts Office
Metal detector, chain smokers outside--toothless, pathetic.
While bitterly attempting to file the papers-I was sent on the "red tape trip", as I like to call it. I was missing something-er-other...I think she said provisional order? By the way, they close at 4p.m. Great(sarcasm).
Parking down town. High Heels and rain. Enough said.
11:00a.m. next stop: obtaining provincial order.
Entered wrong door, had to backtrack outside to front.
Waited for clearance.
"Legal Services please," I said impatiently.
"She's on vacation and won't be back until next week. And then will only be in on Monday because of Thanksgiving and all..."
"Right. Thanksgiving," I whipsered bitterly under my breath. Thanks giving. Giving thanks. I am giving thanks that I left before I said something I would later regret.
11:15a.m. Back onstage
Students waiting in my room to see me.
Publicity is delayed, need exact dimentions for set, choregrapher going to be late today, girl tells me she can't make rehearsal because of an appointment.
Resident skipper eating lunch in room--chomping chomping. I told him to get out.
And I still blush in your presence....
At that hour will the mystic Herald, bearing the joyful tidings of the Spirit, shine forth from the City of God resplendent as the morn, and, through the trumpet-blast of knowledge, will awaken the heart, the soul, and the spirit from the slumber of negligence.
Then will the manifold favours and outpouring grace of the holy and everlasting Spirit confer such new life upon the seeker that he will find himself endowed with a new eye, a new ear, a new heart, and a new mind. He will contemplate the manifest signs of the universe, and will penetrate the hidden mysteries of the soul.
Gazing with the eye of God, he will perceive within every atom a door that leadeth him to the stations of absolute certitude. He will discover in all things the mysteries of divine Revelation and the evidences of an everlasting manifestation."
-Baha'u'llah (Kitab-i-Iqan)
red tape.
people chomping on their apples or potato chips.
awkward silence in lunch rooms.
slow-witted people--and the combination slow wit and slow driving.
mirages.
people who don't get the hint when you obviously want them to leave.
asumptions.
10:45a.m. Courts Office
Metal detector, chain smokers outside--toothless, pathetic.
While bitterly attempting to file the papers-I was sent on the "red tape trip", as I like to call it. I was missing something-er-other...I think she said provisional order? By the way, they close at 4p.m. Great(sarcasm).
Parking down town. High Heels and rain. Enough said.
11:00a.m. next stop: obtaining provincial order.
Entered wrong door, had to backtrack outside to front.
Waited for clearance.
"Legal Services please," I said impatiently.
"She's on vacation and won't be back until next week. And then will only be in on Monday because of Thanksgiving and all..."
"Right. Thanksgiving," I whipsered bitterly under my breath. Thanks giving. Giving thanks. I am giving thanks that I left before I said something I would later regret.
11:15a.m. Back onstage
Students waiting in my room to see me.
Publicity is delayed, need exact dimentions for set, choregrapher going to be late today, girl tells me she can't make rehearsal because of an appointment.
Resident skipper eating lunch in room--chomping chomping. I told him to get out.
And I still blush in your presence....
11/15/2004
Rung dry
She wrapped her arms 'round my neck
and with an elvish look kissed me goodnight.
her warm body motionless, relaxed next to mine
my thumb pressed in the palm of her hand,
fingers exploring--assuring herself that I was still there.
where else would I want to be?
she gives me reason
to try harder and wait for a warmer season.
***
"No soliciting"
I think my neighbor is dead. I have never met him-her but
I am sure some night my silent room will be disturbed by the heavy footfalls of Coroner Toomey.
For several days I noted a trash bag loaded with garbage outside his apartment door. The first few days it didn't bother me--but the weekend passed and still it remained.
So I caved.
I made an extra trip out to the dumpster and tossed the bag over the side. We share a common floor--just the phantom neighbor and me--
Here's hoping he is alive and well. If not, I pray there was nothing noteworthy in that trash bag. Mr. Toomey will come a' knocking on my door asking me questions....looking for clues.
and with an elvish look kissed me goodnight.
her warm body motionless, relaxed next to mine
my thumb pressed in the palm of her hand,
fingers exploring--assuring herself that I was still there.
where else would I want to be?
she gives me reason
to try harder and wait for a warmer season.
***
"No soliciting"
I think my neighbor is dead. I have never met him-her but
I am sure some night my silent room will be disturbed by the heavy footfalls of Coroner Toomey.
For several days I noted a trash bag loaded with garbage outside his apartment door. The first few days it didn't bother me--but the weekend passed and still it remained.
So I caved.
I made an extra trip out to the dumpster and tossed the bag over the side. We share a common floor--just the phantom neighbor and me--
Here's hoping he is alive and well. If not, I pray there was nothing noteworthy in that trash bag. Mr. Toomey will come a' knocking on my door asking me questions....looking for clues.
11/13/2004
blonde in a brunette's world
Saturday night and I am waiting in my room to see the "big show" of the year. Fuck, if you live in Bloomington and you have not heard about this production you must seriously live under a rock.
It depresses me more than I can say that shows like this sell out and I cannot get 10 people to come to my productions. So I will go. I will applaud and be proud of my kids but deep down under it all I feel the painful stabs of one thousand knives booring into my back.
I have decided to sell out and do a musical in the spring. It will kill me but at least I can say with confidence that there will be an audience for my actors to play to. (can I end with a preposition just this once?)
Lately I have become quite The Bitch Supreme and it feels fine. I don't take crap from anyone--and am pretty blunt about my feelings on most subjects. I know that this part of my personality has been lying dormant for most of my life and now that she is out I feel so liberated.
I like to use the word fuck. There's a quote from one of my most favorite movies (Sophie's Choice) where the little southern "Crackuh, as Kevin Klien calls him" writer thinks he is going to score with this musky brunette. She likes to say fuck all the time.
When they are making out on the couch, her fire engine red lipstick all over his face, she stops as he is removing her undergarments and says, "what are you doing?" The narrative voice of little man writer comes over and says, "she could say fuck, but she could not do it." Ha--I love it.
I don't write to a particular audience. I write about what is going on with me. I write about observations I have made. I write in this space because I have no where else to do so. I don't share my site with others, simply because I have no one who cares, really. Therefore, I write whatever I fucking feel like writing.
And today I feel like saying fuck.
So fuck.
**Sunday Morning. Back at it again.
I was thinking about the hardest times in my life; the most trying moments and processes I have gotten through completely on my own. Listening to Carole King's "you've got a friend" from her Tapestry album yesterday had me frozen in my tracks with the vacuum in hand. The popular chorus with James T sings,
"You just call out my name and you know where ever I am I'll come runnin..."
Hollywood FLA, 1975
The most frightening events always seem to find me in the middle of the night. I have been plagued with nightmares my entire life. Insomnia too. I would wake usually after both occurring--hand in hand, like partners in crime-- petrified. There was comfort in standing at the foot of each bed, shivering in the darkness, listening to the steady breathing and snoring of my family. Why wake them from peaceful slumber--the thing I wanted so desperately? So I stood and waited until the demons would pass, I stood and patiently waited for dawn to break.
"if the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds, and that old north wind should begin to blow.."
Carmel IN, 1985, 1986
My attachment to the wrong boys and their cruel breakup schemes were always fond memories of mine. I can only list a couple here but I can remember each one as if watching a re-run of a bad 70's sitcom. Sadly, I always know the outcome of each episode and can always sing the familiar theme song.
It was a Friday night, I believe (no wonder I hate Fridays) December 19, 1985. Stood up on my sixteenth birthday by my then cowboy-wanna-be, beetle drivin', drug usin' leather jacket wearin' model boyfriend. I didn't eat any of the birthday cake and sat with my parents alone at the dinner table. Chris Cahill, wondering if you are in rehab somewhere---or prison.
The following winter, November, 1986 there was the glamourous Broadway Boy Ben Wright who while breaking up compared me to sushi. We sat in his soon-to-be girlfriend's car as he broke the news. I knew there was a reason I never really liked sushi. I walked home from Julie York's house blinded by tears. They were voted prom king and queen the following spring.
"...winter, spring, summer or fall, all you have to do is call..."
We held each other on the stairs, waiting for the arguing to stop. Both of us stifling the sobs as not to be heard by the monster under the stairs. After twenty minutes of the yelling and crying, we decided it be best to try to sleep.
"Would you look at me?" She would say from her twin bed.
"Yes, I'll look at you. Good night."
Bloomington, IN 1988 spring
I was wearing thermals to bed. My roommate dropped out after first term and I had the dorm room to myself.
Must have been 3 or 4 in the morning. The angel of death was resting heavy on my chest. I was dying--my systems were shuttling down, the beautiful long blonde strands of hair lying in wisps on my pillow. I woke, feeling my pelvic bone again the hard matress--terrified, wondering if I was dreaming. My frail body could barely rise to the heavy wooden door. "Am I still alive?" I wondered.
I walked into the brightly lit hallway wrapped in a blanket--panic stricken, looking for a sign of life and there she was...down the hall talking on the phone to her long distance boyfriend, no doubt.
"Can I just sit next to you for a minute?"
"Sure," she said and continued her animated conversation. I sat in silence staring down the hall.
I could re-live the most recent events but not sure why I would want to. But come 11 o'clock on a Thursday night people don't answer their phones. As Stella once said, "I have always relied on the kindness of strangers," and on that particular night, I thank God he opened the door.
Loss of love, looking death straight in the face, abuse, fleeing for my life..all of these things I have done with very little assistance. It's good practice for the final blow out--cause lord knows no one is going to hold your hand when passing through that tunnel of light (or darkness)on that final day.
"When you're down and troubled and you need some love and care, and nothing, no nothing is going right, close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there, to brighten up even your darkest night.."
(I celebrate my inner strength and my life force when dealing with things the majority of people would not and could not possibly imagine happening to them. this is my karmic debt for past transgressions. I am paying a hefty sum.
But next go round there will be true love, soul mate, friendship, joy, peace--none of this lucid shit. I look forward to this life--I live for it. And this hollow shell of a body I currently inhabit will do what it can to make life better for others...and the debt will hopefully be repaid.)
It depresses me more than I can say that shows like this sell out and I cannot get 10 people to come to my productions. So I will go. I will applaud and be proud of my kids but deep down under it all I feel the painful stabs of one thousand knives booring into my back.
I have decided to sell out and do a musical in the spring. It will kill me but at least I can say with confidence that there will be an audience for my actors to play to. (can I end with a preposition just this once?)
Lately I have become quite The Bitch Supreme and it feels fine. I don't take crap from anyone--and am pretty blunt about my feelings on most subjects. I know that this part of my personality has been lying dormant for most of my life and now that she is out I feel so liberated.
I like to use the word fuck. There's a quote from one of my most favorite movies (Sophie's Choice) where the little southern "Crackuh, as Kevin Klien calls him" writer thinks he is going to score with this musky brunette. She likes to say fuck all the time.
When they are making out on the couch, her fire engine red lipstick all over his face, she stops as he is removing her undergarments and says, "what are you doing?" The narrative voice of little man writer comes over and says, "she could say fuck, but she could not do it." Ha--I love it.
I don't write to a particular audience. I write about what is going on with me. I write about observations I have made. I write in this space because I have no where else to do so. I don't share my site with others, simply because I have no one who cares, really. Therefore, I write whatever I fucking feel like writing.
And today I feel like saying fuck.
So fuck.
**Sunday Morning. Back at it again.
I was thinking about the hardest times in my life; the most trying moments and processes I have gotten through completely on my own. Listening to Carole King's "you've got a friend" from her Tapestry album yesterday had me frozen in my tracks with the vacuum in hand. The popular chorus with James T sings,
"You just call out my name and you know where ever I am I'll come runnin..."
Hollywood FLA, 1975
The most frightening events always seem to find me in the middle of the night. I have been plagued with nightmares my entire life. Insomnia too. I would wake usually after both occurring--hand in hand, like partners in crime-- petrified. There was comfort in standing at the foot of each bed, shivering in the darkness, listening to the steady breathing and snoring of my family. Why wake them from peaceful slumber--the thing I wanted so desperately? So I stood and waited until the demons would pass, I stood and patiently waited for dawn to break.
"if the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds, and that old north wind should begin to blow.."
Carmel IN, 1985, 1986
My attachment to the wrong boys and their cruel breakup schemes were always fond memories of mine. I can only list a couple here but I can remember each one as if watching a re-run of a bad 70's sitcom. Sadly, I always know the outcome of each episode and can always sing the familiar theme song.
It was a Friday night, I believe (no wonder I hate Fridays) December 19, 1985. Stood up on my sixteenth birthday by my then cowboy-wanna-be, beetle drivin', drug usin' leather jacket wearin' model boyfriend. I didn't eat any of the birthday cake and sat with my parents alone at the dinner table. Chris Cahill, wondering if you are in rehab somewhere---or prison.
The following winter, November, 1986 there was the glamourous Broadway Boy Ben Wright who while breaking up compared me to sushi. We sat in his soon-to-be girlfriend's car as he broke the news. I knew there was a reason I never really liked sushi. I walked home from Julie York's house blinded by tears. They were voted prom king and queen the following spring.
"...winter, spring, summer or fall, all you have to do is call..."
We held each other on the stairs, waiting for the arguing to stop. Both of us stifling the sobs as not to be heard by the monster under the stairs. After twenty minutes of the yelling and crying, we decided it be best to try to sleep.
"Would you look at me?" She would say from her twin bed.
"Yes, I'll look at you. Good night."
Bloomington, IN 1988 spring
I was wearing thermals to bed. My roommate dropped out after first term and I had the dorm room to myself.
Must have been 3 or 4 in the morning. The angel of death was resting heavy on my chest. I was dying--my systems were shuttling down, the beautiful long blonde strands of hair lying in wisps on my pillow. I woke, feeling my pelvic bone again the hard matress--terrified, wondering if I was dreaming. My frail body could barely rise to the heavy wooden door. "Am I still alive?" I wondered.
I walked into the brightly lit hallway wrapped in a blanket--panic stricken, looking for a sign of life and there she was...down the hall talking on the phone to her long distance boyfriend, no doubt.
"Can I just sit next to you for a minute?"
"Sure," she said and continued her animated conversation. I sat in silence staring down the hall.
I could re-live the most recent events but not sure why I would want to. But come 11 o'clock on a Thursday night people don't answer their phones. As Stella once said, "I have always relied on the kindness of strangers," and on that particular night, I thank God he opened the door.
Loss of love, looking death straight in the face, abuse, fleeing for my life..all of these things I have done with very little assistance. It's good practice for the final blow out--cause lord knows no one is going to hold your hand when passing through that tunnel of light (or darkness)on that final day.
"When you're down and troubled and you need some love and care, and nothing, no nothing is going right, close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there, to brighten up even your darkest night.."
(I celebrate my inner strength and my life force when dealing with things the majority of people would not and could not possibly imagine happening to them. this is my karmic debt for past transgressions. I am paying a hefty sum.
But next go round there will be true love, soul mate, friendship, joy, peace--none of this lucid shit. I look forward to this life--I live for it. And this hollow shell of a body I currently inhabit will do what it can to make life better for others...and the debt will hopefully be repaid.)
11/12/2004
pristine
I love the word "pristine". You can use it to describe so many things.
Just wanted to get this sonnet down before school starts...
more to say later.
XXX
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.
**
weave your magic spell as you always do
their eyes will be like stars
until
they know you
the real you
the charm is no longer charming
the mystery unsettling
and the one-sided relationship
begins again...
Just wanted to get this sonnet down before school starts...
more to say later.
XXX
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.
**
weave your magic spell as you always do
their eyes will be like stars
until
they know you
the real you
the charm is no longer charming
the mystery unsettling
and the one-sided relationship
begins again...
11/10/2004
Revolution
REVOLUTION
I don't really know what to say about the state of the world that has not already been said. I am finding it harder and harder to stomach listening to public radio. I don't have a television and am thankful.
And then there is "Sexy Sadie" one of the greatest songs on the white album. I love the way the recording of the piano sounds like it is an empty room echoing off the walls.
Lately, life has been such a farce-- or a black comedy for me. I really need to just sit down and write a novel about the last two years. Unbelievable. The past two weeks alone would be enough fodder for 100 pages at least.
This will be my first weekend to get out in ages. I am looking forward (really) to Windfall dancers and a production of Oklahoma! My craving for theatre has been insatiable and I want to overdose and fall into a glorified stupor...
I don't really know what to say about the state of the world that has not already been said. I am finding it harder and harder to stomach listening to public radio. I don't have a television and am thankful.
And then there is "Sexy Sadie" one of the greatest songs on the white album. I love the way the recording of the piano sounds like it is an empty room echoing off the walls.
Lately, life has been such a farce-- or a black comedy for me. I really need to just sit down and write a novel about the last two years. Unbelievable. The past two weeks alone would be enough fodder for 100 pages at least.
This will be my first weekend to get out in ages. I am looking forward (really) to Windfall dancers and a production of Oklahoma! My craving for theatre has been insatiable and I want to overdose and fall into a glorified stupor...
11/08/2004
Brand new day
Has anyone else been enamored by these morning skies? I saw the 2 planets aligned accompanied by a waxing(?) moon from my window at the shelter Friday morning--looking up this morning the sky seemed to go on forever. Must be the new surroundings.....
I woke to WFHB's mellow morning mix, made myself an espresso, stretched and leisurely got ready for work. This is the most relaxed I have felt in months.
From my 6X4 concrete slab I have a great view of highway 37. The sunsets are pretty spectacular. I feel a bit like Thoreau traipsing about Walden and living simply. It feels good.
Last night I started Nabokov's Lolita and read without interruption. The place was completely quiet. I actually have some clarity this a.m. and am finally ready to get back to work.
There is some definite compromise to doing this--the main one being seeing less of lil' babe.
I am on an upswing. Look out--you won't be able to help yourself--and I will pretty much kick your ass. Boo-Yah!
I woke to WFHB's mellow morning mix, made myself an espresso, stretched and leisurely got ready for work. This is the most relaxed I have felt in months.
From my 6X4 concrete slab I have a great view of highway 37. The sunsets are pretty spectacular. I feel a bit like Thoreau traipsing about Walden and living simply. It feels good.
Last night I started Nabokov's Lolita and read without interruption. The place was completely quiet. I actually have some clarity this a.m. and am finally ready to get back to work.
There is some definite compromise to doing this--the main one being seeing less of lil' babe.
I am on an upswing. Look out--you won't be able to help yourself--and I will pretty much kick your ass. Boo-Yah!
11/07/2004
all saint's day
today is all saint's day. how apropos that i picked today to go back to church. the sermon was given by a man whom i respect and who is a thinker, a reader, a philosopher and a good man. he didn't dance around the subject of being a saint. sure, mother teresa and all that bullshit--but no. to be a saint one has to feel on a very human level. pathos. i have to link to his page and have you read it--a masterpiece.
i couldn't stay after communion; i was crying so hard i could even look up to say amen.
god, i thought it could only get better. you there, sitting at home cozy and comfortable on a thursday night have no idea the terror i experienced... and the weekend to follow.
i am broken but strong.
and i am a saint.
i couldn't stay after communion; i was crying so hard i could even look up to say amen.
god, i thought it could only get better. you there, sitting at home cozy and comfortable on a thursday night have no idea the terror i experienced... and the weekend to follow.
i am broken but strong.
and i am a saint.
11/04/2004
11/03/2004
as tears roll by
"As tears roll by"
Daniel Lanois
I’ve been working downtown inside my troubles
I’ve been working downtown inside my troubles
I’ve been sleeping under the bridge of highway 1
And I don’t know who my savior is
As tears roll by
Oh dear heart I know it’s been a long time
And the pendulum swings so wide
I’ve been wrestling with the burning spear
With the burning spear
Don’t want to be like this another year
As tears roll by
I could never see your perfect rainbow
Avalanche buried me deep in the snow
Murky smoke stack made me fall
Cold ambition written on my wall
I got mixed up and fell down
I got mixed up
As years roll by
I could be a patriot if I could see
But the T.V. talkin’ man make no sense to me
And I don’t know where our savior lives
And I don’t know where my savior is
Building up, building down
As tears roll by
Gotta keep my spirit out of trouble
Keep myself out of trouble
But the hands of need are calling me
I feel mortality
Tumble down, tumble down
As years roll by
They were building a building like forever
Heads buried deep inside a fever
The spirit cried out from the ground
Sweet, sweet maternal sounds
Tumble, tumble, tumble down tumble to the ground
As fears roll by
As tears roll by, as tears roll by, as tears roll by, as tears roll by
***
I hope you read thru the lyrics. Wish you could hear the tune as well.
My brother-in-law (the only man I currently think has any decency about him)tuned me in and turned me on to Daniel Lanois' Shine soundtrack. Lanois did a lot of work with U2 in the late 80's and early 90's when U2 still had a little love in em.
The Joshua Tree got me through my freshman year of college, a year of defeat, of failure, of doubt and sickness.
But the Shine record has some beautiful moments. I would suggest it if you are looking for something a little different.
I was leafing through the pages of the new Victorias Secret Christmas catalogue last night. The women are so perfect, so beautiful and flawless; so young. I sighed and threw the fucking thing in the trash. How does one find another beautiful? How can her eyes be more magical? Her face, her laughter, her intellect?
I just feel well, like a burned out star--a fading light in the sky--unrecognizable, a passing blurr a streak on the window, bug smeared on the windshield.
Again another dream about a baby dying. This one was much more graphic--the blood from the mother being mopped up by custodial staff, they wheeled her out in the gurney with her explosive boyfriend next to her--covered in her feces and blood.
I woke up and held my daughter tightly. She is the only thing I am living for.
Daniel Lanois
I’ve been working downtown inside my troubles
I’ve been working downtown inside my troubles
I’ve been sleeping under the bridge of highway 1
And I don’t know who my savior is
As tears roll by
Oh dear heart I know it’s been a long time
And the pendulum swings so wide
I’ve been wrestling with the burning spear
With the burning spear
Don’t want to be like this another year
As tears roll by
I could never see your perfect rainbow
Avalanche buried me deep in the snow
Murky smoke stack made me fall
Cold ambition written on my wall
I got mixed up and fell down
I got mixed up
As years roll by
I could be a patriot if I could see
But the T.V. talkin’ man make no sense to me
And I don’t know where our savior lives
And I don’t know where my savior is
Building up, building down
As tears roll by
Gotta keep my spirit out of trouble
Keep myself out of trouble
But the hands of need are calling me
I feel mortality
Tumble down, tumble down
As years roll by
They were building a building like forever
Heads buried deep inside a fever
The spirit cried out from the ground
Sweet, sweet maternal sounds
Tumble, tumble, tumble down tumble to the ground
As fears roll by
As tears roll by, as tears roll by, as tears roll by, as tears roll by
***
I hope you read thru the lyrics. Wish you could hear the tune as well.
My brother-in-law (the only man I currently think has any decency about him)tuned me in and turned me on to Daniel Lanois' Shine soundtrack. Lanois did a lot of work with U2 in the late 80's and early 90's when U2 still had a little love in em.
The Joshua Tree got me through my freshman year of college, a year of defeat, of failure, of doubt and sickness.
But the Shine record has some beautiful moments. I would suggest it if you are looking for something a little different.
I was leafing through the pages of the new Victorias Secret Christmas catalogue last night. The women are so perfect, so beautiful and flawless; so young. I sighed and threw the fucking thing in the trash. How does one find another beautiful? How can her eyes be more magical? Her face, her laughter, her intellect?
I just feel well, like a burned out star--a fading light in the sky--unrecognizable, a passing blurr a streak on the window, bug smeared on the windshield.
Again another dream about a baby dying. This one was much more graphic--the blood from the mother being mopped up by custodial staff, they wheeled her out in the gurney with her explosive boyfriend next to her--covered in her feces and blood.
I woke up and held my daughter tightly. She is the only thing I am living for.
11/02/2004
November 2nd
On this day eight years ago I got married. With no money to put in the meter, it's no wonder the damn thing expired.
It was a chilly Saturday mid-morning--sunny, a few leaves left on trees.
I remember doing most of the planning myself and the fits my mother gave me over spending, not feeling involved, and of course, having the wedding over an hour from the familiar comforts of Carmel made me even more determined to go at it alone. Yecch. Some things never change---she majored in guilt; minored in passive-aggression.
What she failed to realize (and still does) was that after being forced into an early wedding date and with less than three months to plan the whole f-ing affair, I didn't have the time or desire to include her in any of the decisions. I guess that's what comes with being the first of three girls to prematurely buy a house and happily live in sin and finally marry.
I just wanted to buy a house. I was looking for a fun roommate who would shoulder the work and pay half his/her share of the costs.
and eight years later I am stuck with a money pit, mortgage and more debt than I ever thought possible.
happy anniversary baby. Oh, and no need for flowers.....I picked my own.
It was a chilly Saturday mid-morning--sunny, a few leaves left on trees.
I remember doing most of the planning myself and the fits my mother gave me over spending, not feeling involved, and of course, having the wedding over an hour from the familiar comforts of Carmel made me even more determined to go at it alone. Yecch. Some things never change---she majored in guilt; minored in passive-aggression.
What she failed to realize (and still does) was that after being forced into an early wedding date and with less than three months to plan the whole f-ing affair, I didn't have the time or desire to include her in any of the decisions. I guess that's what comes with being the first of three girls to prematurely buy a house and happily live in sin and finally marry.
I just wanted to buy a house. I was looking for a fun roommate who would shoulder the work and pay half his/her share of the costs.
and eight years later I am stuck with a money pit, mortgage and more debt than I ever thought possible.
happy anniversary baby. Oh, and no need for flowers.....I picked my own.
10/31/2004
10:14
***
i drink good coffee every morning
comes from a place that's far away
and when i'm done
i feel like talking
without you here
there is less to say.
***
it's been hard this week for some reason.
i was so emotional friday i had to leave work early-just basically walked out.
i cannot stand it when people say, "have a nice weekend." i have the impulse to say to everyone, "fuck you." i am sure i will one of these days.
i used to run for meditative purposes. it was a great think and work through problems or to plan creatively on upcoming projects.
my department chair said that when she went through her divorce she started running. she is now the cross country coach of a # 1 team. there is something to be said for finding something wonderful in an unexpected way.
before my triathalon i would focus on the eyes of someone i loved-- same person every time. while focusing i didn't feel anything--no cramps, no burning in my chest when my lungs needed air, no pain in the knees. it would be a good five miles before i would come to. it was a great feeling having him along with me.
i can't remember the last time i went running.
the first thing i did when i walked out of work was headed to the YMCA. I had not been in there in over two months. my wasted body trying to lift the minimum weight on each machine was laughable--and frightening. my power was gone. my strength, my stamina, my focus--gone. i laid on the mat and watched the t.v. for awhile and went home.
***
don't want you thinking
i'm unhappy
what is closer to the truth
if i lived till i was 102
just don't think i'll ever get over you.
***
i am going off all meds (well, i cannot envision stopping the sleeping pills yet) to see what happens. the blisters are almost gone now, and it only feels like a hole the size of a quarter on the roof of my mouth. it feels like i have herpies--might as well. god knows i deserve to have them.
***
no longer moved to drink
strong whiskey
i shook the hand of time and i knew
if i live to no longer climb my stairs
just don't think i'll ever get over you.
****
i hate how the saddness always creeps in on fridays. i hate fridays.
saturday morning was crisp and beautiful. i rode my bike around town and decided to make a mental list of things that still, even at 34 amaze me.
1. the unpredictible wind and the damage it can do
2. how everything stops when an emergency vehicle sirens and roars its way through busy traffic
3. the contrast between the green turf of a football field and the crimson of thousands of fans in the stands--and the bright cloudless blue sky.
4. the image of a woman walking through a wall of golden leaves, tossing her hair, skirt, everything into the air.
5. how music, especially country music, can level me to a blubbering idiot--over and over again.
6. the way intense memories stay with me and make me sigh, sucking in my breath for a brief moment.
***
your face it dances
and it haunts me
laughter still ringing in my ears
still find pieces of your presence
even after all these years.
***
so it's sunday.
i have to come back in here tomorrow
and i loathe it.
i drink good coffee every morning
comes from a place that's far away
and when i'm done
i feel like talking
without you here
there is less to say.
***
it's been hard this week for some reason.
i was so emotional friday i had to leave work early-just basically walked out.
i cannot stand it when people say, "have a nice weekend." i have the impulse to say to everyone, "fuck you." i am sure i will one of these days.
i used to run for meditative purposes. it was a great think and work through problems or to plan creatively on upcoming projects.
my department chair said that when she went through her divorce she started running. she is now the cross country coach of a # 1 team. there is something to be said for finding something wonderful in an unexpected way.
before my triathalon i would focus on the eyes of someone i loved-- same person every time. while focusing i didn't feel anything--no cramps, no burning in my chest when my lungs needed air, no pain in the knees. it would be a good five miles before i would come to. it was a great feeling having him along with me.
i can't remember the last time i went running.
the first thing i did when i walked out of work was headed to the YMCA. I had not been in there in over two months. my wasted body trying to lift the minimum weight on each machine was laughable--and frightening. my power was gone. my strength, my stamina, my focus--gone. i laid on the mat and watched the t.v. for awhile and went home.
***
don't want you thinking
i'm unhappy
what is closer to the truth
if i lived till i was 102
just don't think i'll ever get over you.
***
i am going off all meds (well, i cannot envision stopping the sleeping pills yet) to see what happens. the blisters are almost gone now, and it only feels like a hole the size of a quarter on the roof of my mouth. it feels like i have herpies--might as well. god knows i deserve to have them.
***
no longer moved to drink
strong whiskey
i shook the hand of time and i knew
if i live to no longer climb my stairs
just don't think i'll ever get over you.
****
i hate how the saddness always creeps in on fridays. i hate fridays.
saturday morning was crisp and beautiful. i rode my bike around town and decided to make a mental list of things that still, even at 34 amaze me.
1. the unpredictible wind and the damage it can do
2. how everything stops when an emergency vehicle sirens and roars its way through busy traffic
3. the contrast between the green turf of a football field and the crimson of thousands of fans in the stands--and the bright cloudless blue sky.
4. the image of a woman walking through a wall of golden leaves, tossing her hair, skirt, everything into the air.
5. how music, especially country music, can level me to a blubbering idiot--over and over again.
6. the way intense memories stay with me and make me sigh, sucking in my breath for a brief moment.
***
your face it dances
and it haunts me
laughter still ringing in my ears
still find pieces of your presence
even after all these years.
***
so it's sunday.
i have to come back in here tomorrow
and i loathe it.
10/29/2004
pass it on...
people rarely do nice things for each other anymore. well, except at christmas--and that is usually so over-the-top-goodwill-cheese that it makes me bitter.
Why such a change is here? What says you my love?
often times as a teacher i am asked to make decisions--split second decisions that will dramatically affect someone else's life or path forever. yesterday in my haste to make 20 people happy i sacrificed the feelings of one. one whom i love dearly. it is hard to know how to tell her that i couldn't be more sorry, that it was a hasty judgment, and that i wish it could have been different.
unfortunately i can't. i just wish she knew how sorry i am.
***last night I sat with a friend at a local coffee house and bitched about work and life in general. she has been put through the ringer and has just cause to complain. we cling to each other if, for nothing else, someone to say, we can make it through this shit.
i have been trying to get through a movie called waking life . it has an interesting concept, but i find myself opting for sleep instead of entertainment.
another weekend is here. why can't i be a cicada and just bury myself deep underground for seventeen years?
Why such a change is here? What says you my love?
often times as a teacher i am asked to make decisions--split second decisions that will dramatically affect someone else's life or path forever. yesterday in my haste to make 20 people happy i sacrificed the feelings of one. one whom i love dearly. it is hard to know how to tell her that i couldn't be more sorry, that it was a hasty judgment, and that i wish it could have been different.
unfortunately i can't. i just wish she knew how sorry i am.
***last night I sat with a friend at a local coffee house and bitched about work and life in general. she has been put through the ringer and has just cause to complain. we cling to each other if, for nothing else, someone to say, we can make it through this shit.
i have been trying to get through a movie called waking life . it has an interesting concept, but i find myself opting for sleep instead of entertainment.
another weekend is here. why can't i be a cicada and just bury myself deep underground for seventeen years?
10/28/2004
tutto
A student whom I love came by to talk today. He, for some reason, seems to get shit out of me that no one else does. Today it was my father going under the knife, his clogged aorta, my mother's guity-laden conversation and her "keep him in your prayers" attitude. I didn't have the strength to tell her I haven't talked to God in some time.
So, the conversation turned to things we enjoyed doing in our limited free time. I told him I didn't know. He laughed.
"What did you do on your day off last week?"
"I worked until 6."
"Oh."
I went back to playing the bass plugged in and hot.
The most horrific physical pain I have felt since I birthed my child has been with me this week. Reactions to meds are never fun, especially when they leave enormous blisters on your tongue and hard and soft palate and make you cry out in stabbing debilitating pain. Eating has been impossible; talking is unpleasant. The only thing that seems to pacify is ice.
Today has been bearable. I got to thinking that just when you think you have felt your worst, something else crops up to tell you otherwise. I feel like Jesus on the freaking cross.
Maybe I should take up prayer?
So, the conversation turned to things we enjoyed doing in our limited free time. I told him I didn't know. He laughed.
"What did you do on your day off last week?"
"I worked until 6."
"Oh."
I went back to playing the bass plugged in and hot.
The most horrific physical pain I have felt since I birthed my child has been with me this week. Reactions to meds are never fun, especially when they leave enormous blisters on your tongue and hard and soft palate and make you cry out in stabbing debilitating pain. Eating has been impossible; talking is unpleasant. The only thing that seems to pacify is ice.
Today has been bearable. I got to thinking that just when you think you have felt your worst, something else crops up to tell you otherwise. I feel like Jesus on the freaking cross.
Maybe I should take up prayer?
10/25/2004
on a blue background, venus shines
this morning the stars were so clear against the midnight blue sky. I love morning skies. They change so quickly, too.
so glad it's monday. even though there were distractions this weekend, i absolutely hate them. always stressful, lonely, exhausting. and there is no place to call sanctuary. I am just reminded of where i SHOULD be, what I SHOULD be doing (or more specifically cleaning), what i SHOULD be preparing for next week. when i do actually take some time for me, guilt settles in. my time is limited to a few fleeting hours, the timeclock clicking away the minutes, reminding me that for every hour of freedom, there is a price that must be paid.
I am currently stuck in the 12th house and have been for about a month. the 12th house is the lowest time of year for most people. mine happens to fall in what is usually considered the best, most beautiful and romantic time. bah--
needless to say, I am spinning serious wheel again. no time to read, study or do anything that remotely resembles who i am or what i feel. it's just stuck in there--like a crucible--waiting to dispel its contents, searching for that point of catharsis, the gasping breath after being emerged in water too long, the cracked window...
this song made me cry this a.m. sad but true.
some people will remain at arm's reach.
"Spanish Dancer"
****
Oh mama when you were a young girl
Did you ever love a man so much
As if he were some fantastic jewel
That you should never be worthy of
But all those illusions strip and fall
And he is just a man after all
And just like that Spanish dancer
I throw my roses down for him
Across these beds of darkness
He opens his arms and gathers them in
Just like that Spanish dancer
I throw my rose down for him
Across these beds of darkness
He opens his arms and gathers them in
*** Patti Scialfa
so glad it's monday. even though there were distractions this weekend, i absolutely hate them. always stressful, lonely, exhausting. and there is no place to call sanctuary. I am just reminded of where i SHOULD be, what I SHOULD be doing (or more specifically cleaning), what i SHOULD be preparing for next week. when i do actually take some time for me, guilt settles in. my time is limited to a few fleeting hours, the timeclock clicking away the minutes, reminding me that for every hour of freedom, there is a price that must be paid.
I am currently stuck in the 12th house and have been for about a month. the 12th house is the lowest time of year for most people. mine happens to fall in what is usually considered the best, most beautiful and romantic time. bah--
needless to say, I am spinning serious wheel again. no time to read, study or do anything that remotely resembles who i am or what i feel. it's just stuck in there--like a crucible--waiting to dispel its contents, searching for that point of catharsis, the gasping breath after being emerged in water too long, the cracked window...
this song made me cry this a.m. sad but true.
some people will remain at arm's reach.
"Spanish Dancer"
****
Oh mama when you were a young girl
Did you ever love a man so much
As if he were some fantastic jewel
That you should never be worthy of
But all those illusions strip and fall
And he is just a man after all
And just like that Spanish dancer
I throw my roses down for him
Across these beds of darkness
He opens his arms and gathers them in
Just like that Spanish dancer
I throw my rose down for him
Across these beds of darkness
He opens his arms and gathers them in
*** Patti Scialfa
10/24/2004
emmylou-hoo
emmylou. an amazing show, an amazing talent.
and buddy miller was the perfect harmony for her vocals. they move in time.
must close and make some music of my own.
got hooked into Springsteen's Nebraska, Gillian Welch and Patti Scalifa this weekend--
good stuff.
tell me, sweet sweet moon, what does the week have in store for me?
and buddy miller was the perfect harmony for her vocals. they move in time.
must close and make some music of my own.
got hooked into Springsteen's Nebraska, Gillian Welch and Patti Scalifa this weekend--
good stuff.
tell me, sweet sweet moon, what does the week have in store for me?
10/22/2004
mania or creative surge?
this week has been strange. i have had so many amazing ideas for the show but have never been so all over the map before in my life. i hope something settles here soon. but i am utilizing the energy.
emmylou harris tonight should be a good show. it has been a long time for me. a long time.
i can fight now. gots the mental muscle working.
alienation is okay, but debilitating
i am just wondering why i have to go through all of this
why do i put these thoughts here? well, when you have no one else, the screen is friendly. it doesn't talk back, it is safe. it lets you cry without feeling ridiculous. who is really going to read this anyway? i mean, you would have to be looking for it---and to be honest, if that is the truth, then you should be talking to me in person about it instead of speaking in hushed tongues somewhere else. thanks friend. thanks a lot for being there.
emmylou harris tonight should be a good show. it has been a long time for me. a long time.
i can fight now. gots the mental muscle working.
alienation is okay, but debilitating
i am just wondering why i have to go through all of this
why do i put these thoughts here? well, when you have no one else, the screen is friendly. it doesn't talk back, it is safe. it lets you cry without feeling ridiculous. who is really going to read this anyway? i mean, you would have to be looking for it---and to be honest, if that is the truth, then you should be talking to me in person about it instead of speaking in hushed tongues somewhere else. thanks friend. thanks a lot for being there.
10/21/2004
eye teeth
Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame,
When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name;
My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.
Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day,
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung;
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?
Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love.
Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man.
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;
Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee.
She drew pictures with a sharpie. Circles. Scribbles.
She said words like "doggie" "kitty" "apple" "peepee" "bee"
And when I put her to bed, I held her so close, her little hand cupping my finger. Most nights she stared up at the ceiling fan without a sound, then back to me. I looked at her and understood unconditional love. Why was I chosen to carry such a precious gift, I ask.
***
"Got a letter from the NRA. They want money," he says while tearing up the bill.
She wonders why he even opens them.
Guns were never part of her experience. Not even toy guns. Her father didn't believe in them.
I would feel better if you would take all of your guns to John's and lock them up in his safe," standing by the door, shifting her weight.
"Sure...but after I heard the shots in the neighborhood, I have kept a loaded gun in the house..." still sifting through two days worth of mail that accumulated in the rusty box.
"I mean you have a gun in coat closet..."
"It doesn't work. The damn thing is broken," he blurted, as if being accused of high treason.
"..and what is under the bed? Are those bullets? I mean, it is within reach of little hands. Is it a gun? Is it loaded?"
"Yes, but she can't figure out how to open the box.."
"Oh my God! You have a loaded gun under the bed! Doesn't that bother you? I mean she can call people on a cell phone, I am sure she can figure out how to open a box," her voice was ugly and the words deformed.
He grimaced, "but the cat pee..."
"What? Do you think she cares about cat piss? You have a loaded gun under the bed. Do you know how many people would freak if..."
It was a joke, Cat." She hated it when he called her that.
"Well I don't find it funny at all." She was expecting him to get up and move the piece immediately. He knew this, and so didn't move. He wanted to control this conversation, this situation.
The argument continued until the last word had to be one-uppped.
"So, are you shutting down?"
"Yes, yes I am. You are not listening to me. You say we need to work on communication and you never listen. You don't care. You could give a flying rat's ass. So go and tell Row about all of this. I could give a shit. So I guess you won this one, huh?"
It was the usual. She wanted a tape recorder so as not to miss a single ridiculous sentence. It was laughable. She sat still in the chair, waiting for him to continue to berate. He disappeared upstairs and she heard fumbling in the bedroom. She took another sip of wine and took her place on the couch. She turned off the light and drifted off.
When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name;
My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.
Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day,
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung;
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?
Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love.
Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man.
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;
Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee.
She drew pictures with a sharpie. Circles. Scribbles.
She said words like "doggie" "kitty" "apple" "peepee" "bee"
And when I put her to bed, I held her so close, her little hand cupping my finger. Most nights she stared up at the ceiling fan without a sound, then back to me. I looked at her and understood unconditional love. Why was I chosen to carry such a precious gift, I ask.
***
"Got a letter from the NRA. They want money," he says while tearing up the bill.
She wonders why he even opens them.
Guns were never part of her experience. Not even toy guns. Her father didn't believe in them.
I would feel better if you would take all of your guns to John's and lock them up in his safe," standing by the door, shifting her weight.
"Sure...but after I heard the shots in the neighborhood, I have kept a loaded gun in the house..." still sifting through two days worth of mail that accumulated in the rusty box.
"I mean you have a gun in coat closet..."
"It doesn't work. The damn thing is broken," he blurted, as if being accused of high treason.
"..and what is under the bed? Are those bullets? I mean, it is within reach of little hands. Is it a gun? Is it loaded?"
"Yes, but she can't figure out how to open the box.."
"Oh my God! You have a loaded gun under the bed! Doesn't that bother you? I mean she can call people on a cell phone, I am sure she can figure out how to open a box," her voice was ugly and the words deformed.
He grimaced, "but the cat pee..."
"What? Do you think she cares about cat piss? You have a loaded gun under the bed. Do you know how many people would freak if..."
It was a joke, Cat." She hated it when he called her that.
"Well I don't find it funny at all." She was expecting him to get up and move the piece immediately. He knew this, and so didn't move. He wanted to control this conversation, this situation.
The argument continued until the last word had to be one-uppped.
"So, are you shutting down?"
"Yes, yes I am. You are not listening to me. You say we need to work on communication and you never listen. You don't care. You could give a flying rat's ass. So go and tell Row about all of this. I could give a shit. So I guess you won this one, huh?"
It was the usual. She wanted a tape recorder so as not to miss a single ridiculous sentence. It was laughable. She sat still in the chair, waiting for him to continue to berate. He disappeared upstairs and she heard fumbling in the bedroom. She took another sip of wine and took her place on the couch. She turned off the light and drifted off.
10/20/2004
skipping stones
I suppose there is some truth to the number of posts on one's page per day/week/month that reflects the quality of one's life at that particular time.
I think it has been well over a year since I have been out socially, and about the same amount of time since I recall letting go, glowing and basking in the feeling of love, or feeling like a part of something bigger than myself. We make our bed---
I can wait. Love always waits.
Been talking with a friend about art this week. He offered a painting to me that is worth thousands for a steal at a grand. Sure in al practical purposes it could be 5 month's car payment, blah blah blah, but the piece is so incredible I cannot let it pass me by. I love art.
Feeling a bit of tension so must close and pick up again tomorrow. And when I see the moon, I think of you...
I think it has been well over a year since I have been out socially, and about the same amount of time since I recall letting go, glowing and basking in the feeling of love, or feeling like a part of something bigger than myself. We make our bed---
I can wait. Love always waits.
Been talking with a friend about art this week. He offered a painting to me that is worth thousands for a steal at a grand. Sure in al practical purposes it could be 5 month's car payment, blah blah blah, but the piece is so incredible I cannot let it pass me by. I love art.
Feeling a bit of tension so must close and pick up again tomorrow. And when I see the moon, I think of you...
10/19/2004
in the waiting line
In the cicada's cry
No sign can foretell
How soon it must die.
-Basho
Today the twinkling lights downtown blurred with the fog
I took an extra lap around the square, windows open, to take in the full effect.
Wish there was someone to share these fleeting moments.
I followed you foolishly,
you were in a smokey bar,
we were out til' three...
remember how we used to say
can't stay away?
No sign can foretell
How soon it must die.
-Basho
Today the twinkling lights downtown blurred with the fog
I took an extra lap around the square, windows open, to take in the full effect.
Wish there was someone to share these fleeting moments.
I followed you foolishly,
you were in a smokey bar,
we were out til' three...
remember how we used to say
can't stay away?
10/18/2004
nothing really matters--but love
i feel the void growing with every word, every step.
i fight back the bitter tears driving to work in anger and leave in the same way. today the cold hard rain beat down on me like stones.
last night i dreamed my baby drown. she was a sinking grey rubber doll; her eyes and mouth open. i felt like Medea.
i still do.
the words spewed all weekend long like poison. the sarcasm, the hateful, condeming charges, the accusations. lilly sat quietly, playing with her books. that in itself makes me want to cry.
but there was that wonderful moment when we were free--it was just lilly and me. the way it should be.
i fight back the bitter tears driving to work in anger and leave in the same way. today the cold hard rain beat down on me like stones.
last night i dreamed my baby drown. she was a sinking grey rubber doll; her eyes and mouth open. i felt like Medea.
i still do.
the words spewed all weekend long like poison. the sarcasm, the hateful, condeming charges, the accusations. lilly sat quietly, playing with her books. that in itself makes me want to cry.
but there was that wonderful moment when we were free--it was just lilly and me. the way it should be.
10/16/2004
caring is creepy
It's a luscious mix of words and tricks
That let us bet when you know we should fold
On rocks I dreamt of where we'd stepped
And the whole mess of roads we're now on.
***
Strange Saturday. The brightly coloured leaves against grey skies are breathtaking.
Had some QT outside with lil' Lill today. She is amazing. But the skies have turned dark and the cold has me running indoors and doing the chores.
Is this all that life is for?
That let us bet when you know we should fold
On rocks I dreamt of where we'd stepped
And the whole mess of roads we're now on.
***
Strange Saturday. The brightly coloured leaves against grey skies are breathtaking.
Had some QT outside with lil' Lill today. She is amazing. But the skies have turned dark and the cold has me running indoors and doing the chores.
Is this all that life is for?
10/11/2004
disorder or disease?
Sunday morning I rode my bike up a one-way street. I have travelled this street every day for as long as I can remember---but it looked like a completely different street coming from the other direction. I wonder if you can see people in a totally different light if you approach them differently. Something to think about, I guess.
I was flattered by a student Friday. I assigned my classes to watch the debates and tongue-in-cheek invited them over to my house, since I knew I wouldn't be doing anything. Come Friday, a student told me he was invited to watch the debates at a girl's house. He told her, " No, because I am watching the debates with my teacher." Ha!
more thoughts--
An interesting weekend, for sure. I rented Suicide Club and kept pretty much to myself. Also got my hands on a copy of the Garden State soundtrack--good stuff.
I still wonder what the time line is on apologies--I see the leaves scatter and blow, but I will keep trying. I enjoyed a conversation with an old friend--he is always so receptive to me. Just wanted to thank you for that--even though I know you won't see this. It made my weekend.
and finally...
do you see me? wish you could see me now. if only you could see me now.
I was flattered by a student Friday. I assigned my classes to watch the debates and tongue-in-cheek invited them over to my house, since I knew I wouldn't be doing anything. Come Friday, a student told me he was invited to watch the debates at a girl's house. He told her, " No, because I am watching the debates with my teacher." Ha!
more thoughts--
An interesting weekend, for sure. I rented Suicide Club and kept pretty much to myself. Also got my hands on a copy of the Garden State soundtrack--good stuff.
I still wonder what the time line is on apologies--I see the leaves scatter and blow, but I will keep trying. I enjoyed a conversation with an old friend--he is always so receptive to me. Just wanted to thank you for that--even though I know you won't see this. It made my weekend.
and finally...
do you see me? wish you could see me now. if only you could see me now.
10/07/2004
Splinters
Ah. Early morning. I woke before dawn, did my yoga and made it to school by 6:55.
it's going to be a great day.
an old friend called me last night out of the blue. We recklessly toured Europe together back in the early 90's, hitting all the main locales in his piece of shit beamer. God, those were some wild, eye-opening times. How strange that I just entered a piece about losing memories and people---but the minute we talked, they all came streaming back into my mind. He was a bright guy, army brat, wrestler with a delicate frame. What is it about wrestlers? I think I have dated at least 4.
Anyway, he would have made a great politician. Good to talk with you again Bruce.
I don't know if it is age or experience but I am feeling so much more in tune with things these days. Unfortunately, along with clarity, I have lost the lofty idea of romantic love, I won't allow people in anymore. Love is disease and once infected, you are helpless. There is no remedy or relief except fateful time---waiting for it to die, waiting for the feelings to wilt and decompose, watching the body wither and groan and become worthless.
The good times are so few and fleeting that I wonder why we even put forth the energy--when ultimately we know it is doomed to fail.
Fortunately for me, I have the strength of 10,000 men. Now that I know better, I will never go to that place again. It would take a miracle. A fucking miracle.
it's going to be a great day.
an old friend called me last night out of the blue. We recklessly toured Europe together back in the early 90's, hitting all the main locales in his piece of shit beamer. God, those were some wild, eye-opening times. How strange that I just entered a piece about losing memories and people---but the minute we talked, they all came streaming back into my mind. He was a bright guy, army brat, wrestler with a delicate frame. What is it about wrestlers? I think I have dated at least 4.
Anyway, he would have made a great politician. Good to talk with you again Bruce.
I don't know if it is age or experience but I am feeling so much more in tune with things these days. Unfortunately, along with clarity, I have lost the lofty idea of romantic love, I won't allow people in anymore. Love is disease and once infected, you are helpless. There is no remedy or relief except fateful time---waiting for it to die, waiting for the feelings to wilt and decompose, watching the body wither and groan and become worthless.
The good times are so few and fleeting that I wonder why we even put forth the energy--when ultimately we know it is doomed to fail.
Fortunately for me, I have the strength of 10,000 men. Now that I know better, I will never go to that place again. It would take a miracle. A fucking miracle.
10/06/2004
Baby
"Don't cry baby," he said to her, cradling her head in his arms.
She had never been called baby before. It always sounded so cliche. But coming from him it was...nice. Baby hmmm.
*****
I hate the fact that I have to rely on my students in order to have a conversation about anything important. The election, condoms in schools, relating to your kids, having civil discussions without closing off the other person, dismissing them or walking away. Maybe because they are a captive audience? I am honored that they let me in to their lives at all. I know I never let my parents in on anything I was thinking or feeling.
I thank my lucky stars for students like Ryan, Anna, Alex, Keith, Anton, Trevor, Jacob, Jimmy, J-Moore, Kerchie, Hoppie, Esther, Evan, B-Carl, Steve, Haddie, Kayta, Danielle, Krystopher, Sarah, Kathleen...they never let me down, always have a hug for me and are straight up with me. I cannot say that for many adults that I know.
Dreams were crazy last night...I was crazy, elevators, painting, college dorms....
She had never been called baby before. It always sounded so cliche. But coming from him it was...nice. Baby hmmm.
*****
I hate the fact that I have to rely on my students in order to have a conversation about anything important. The election, condoms in schools, relating to your kids, having civil discussions without closing off the other person, dismissing them or walking away. Maybe because they are a captive audience? I am honored that they let me in to their lives at all. I know I never let my parents in on anything I was thinking or feeling.
I thank my lucky stars for students like Ryan, Anna, Alex, Keith, Anton, Trevor, Jacob, Jimmy, J-Moore, Kerchie, Hoppie, Esther, Evan, B-Carl, Steve, Haddie, Kayta, Danielle, Krystopher, Sarah, Kathleen...they never let me down, always have a hug for me and are straight up with me. I cannot say that for many adults that I know.
Dreams were crazy last night...I was crazy, elevators, painting, college dorms....
10/05/2004
paper airplanes and pastel
Driving west this morning the sky resembled an easter egg--pastel, cool and pretty. Sometimes I wish that I could freeze moments in time. I hate how time makes you forget. Why does time do that to beautiful things, beautiful people, beautiful moments? It isn't fair.
I see you caught under the watchful and suspecting eyes of others. I see nothing behind your eyes now. And your hands, your scent--- they are gone. forgotten. And I miss them.
Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
That well-known name awakens all my woes.
Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear!
Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.
I tremble too, where'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
Led through a sad variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
There died the best of passions, love and fame.
--from "Eloisa to Abelard"
I see you caught under the watchful and suspecting eyes of others. I see nothing behind your eyes now. And your hands, your scent--- they are gone. forgotten. And I miss them.
Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
That well-known name awakens all my woes.
Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear!
Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.
I tremble too, where'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
Led through a sad variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
There died the best of passions, love and fame.
--from "Eloisa to Abelard"
10/04/2004
eloisa
Anger today. blinding--brain bluring--and from here then to mom mode.
I am so fucking tired.
I need someone to put their arms around me and tell me I am loved and it's all going to be ok. I want to be able to put my guard down and just relax.
Is there anyone out there?
>>>>
a productive al beit lonely weekend once again.
the downstairs got a new coat of paint, baseboards stained and the carpets are somewhat presentable now.
After three days i finally made it all the way through eternal sunshine intact. cannot remember the last time i watched a movie with someone.
i feel my heart growing colder, the distance i place between myself and others seems to grow with every passing day and i find myself not caring much about tending to the relationships i do have. as someone once said to me, it is best not to have any expectations of other people--that way you won't be disappointed if they do not meet them. huh--interesting but uh, no.
maybe it's the sudafed?
I am so fucking tired.
I need someone to put their arms around me and tell me I am loved and it's all going to be ok. I want to be able to put my guard down and just relax.
Is there anyone out there?
>>>>
a productive al beit lonely weekend once again.
the downstairs got a new coat of paint, baseboards stained and the carpets are somewhat presentable now.
After three days i finally made it all the way through eternal sunshine intact. cannot remember the last time i watched a movie with someone.
i feel my heart growing colder, the distance i place between myself and others seems to grow with every passing day and i find myself not caring much about tending to the relationships i do have. as someone once said to me, it is best not to have any expectations of other people--that way you won't be disappointed if they do not meet them. huh--interesting but uh, no.
maybe it's the sudafed?
9/30/2004
goat
well fuck.
I am finally over my hangover from Monday night's escapade. I don't think I am going to drink another glass of wine again. Sitting at the bar definitely has it's advantages--or disadvantages depending on what orifice is buried in the toilet bowl.
Unfortunately for me it was the latter, not the former.
Mercury must be retrograde. I keep losing things--my glasses, sunglasses, cell phone, checkbook--I chipped my front tooth and a kid ripped my silk scarf in class. My back was turned and I heard this heart-wrenching "rip". The room was silent and all eyes were on him. They waited for me to lash out in a fiery rage. And in my silence, I realized that all this shit: phones, teeth, glasses--it was all pointless. I told him to forget about it. Cheers rang out--I felt like a hero.
I picked up my daughter from daycare yesterday and read her report--the provider said," She read a book to us and was so animated...And at the end, closed the book and said 'bye-bye'."
My daughter rocks my socks.
Another weekend is rapidly approaching. Being alone again is okay but what I wouldn't do for a little intimacy, actually company would be divine. Come Saturday around 4p.m. I get sad and stumble around town with my hands in my pockets. It's a self-defeating activity but better than sitting at home with the ghosts of bitter fights, crying and isolating solitude. I'm lookin for water from a deeper well.
I think I will go see Rachel Caswell tonight. After all, I have the day off tomorrow. Sigh.
I am finally over my hangover from Monday night's escapade. I don't think I am going to drink another glass of wine again. Sitting at the bar definitely has it's advantages--or disadvantages depending on what orifice is buried in the toilet bowl.
Unfortunately for me it was the latter, not the former.
Mercury must be retrograde. I keep losing things--my glasses, sunglasses, cell phone, checkbook--I chipped my front tooth and a kid ripped my silk scarf in class. My back was turned and I heard this heart-wrenching "rip". The room was silent and all eyes were on him. They waited for me to lash out in a fiery rage. And in my silence, I realized that all this shit: phones, teeth, glasses--it was all pointless. I told him to forget about it. Cheers rang out--I felt like a hero.
I picked up my daughter from daycare yesterday and read her report--the provider said," She read a book to us and was so animated...And at the end, closed the book and said 'bye-bye'."
My daughter rocks my socks.
Another weekend is rapidly approaching. Being alone again is okay but what I wouldn't do for a little intimacy, actually company would be divine. Come Saturday around 4p.m. I get sad and stumble around town with my hands in my pockets. It's a self-defeating activity but better than sitting at home with the ghosts of bitter fights, crying and isolating solitude. I'm lookin for water from a deeper well.
I think I will go see Rachel Caswell tonight. After all, I have the day off tomorrow. Sigh.
9/29/2004
harvest moon
While sitting through a meeting trying to persuade unsuspecting seniors to buy memorabilia, I snickered at a colleague's retort, "I have decided that Consumerism is a whore." I think he is absolutely correct.
The moon last night was amazing. I held my girl up to the glowing mass and she pointed and said, "moooo."
The moon last night was amazing. I held my girl up to the glowing mass and she pointed and said, "moooo."
9/27/2004
great tranquility and order
"Tanto monta, monta tanto, Isabel como Fernando."
I had an opportunity to spend some time with an amazing artist this weekend who has his studio in the old Bare Essentials building.
I was captivated by his work in the window as I would pass by on the way to Soma. I love oil painting; it reminded me of growing up--mom had a studio set up. Later, Carolyn took to oils and the summers were spent with the projector set up in the kitchen, slides of Degas ballerinas cast on the fridge.
I never thought much about it--but the scent of the oils drifted toward the outside patio seating and took me back.
His works made me want to cry-- each one so different; so full of depth and pain and suffering...
He recently completed Billie Holiday.
Dorothy Parker is next, followed by none other than Isabella.
His interpretations of Hester Pryne, Saint Joan and Elizabeth, Medea and Ophelia were unbelievable. I have known quite a few painters in this life--but this one--this one I could see myself in all of his works, I could talk to him for hours about these women, standing there in that space, looking at each one....
I had an opportunity to spend some time with an amazing artist this weekend who has his studio in the old Bare Essentials building.
I was captivated by his work in the window as I would pass by on the way to Soma. I love oil painting; it reminded me of growing up--mom had a studio set up. Later, Carolyn took to oils and the summers were spent with the projector set up in the kitchen, slides of Degas ballerinas cast on the fridge.
I never thought much about it--but the scent of the oils drifted toward the outside patio seating and took me back.
His works made me want to cry-- each one so different; so full of depth and pain and suffering...
He recently completed Billie Holiday.
Dorothy Parker is next, followed by none other than Isabella.
His interpretations of Hester Pryne, Saint Joan and Elizabeth, Medea and Ophelia were unbelievable. I have known quite a few painters in this life--but this one--this one I could see myself in all of his works, I could talk to him for hours about these women, standing there in that space, looking at each one....
9/24/2004
Musings
Friday afternoon.
It looks cloudy outside--
I am staring at the screen--eyes glazed over, glasses are off.
It's quiet--only the hum of my computer and an occasional passing student; the clicking of my fingers on the keyboard. The place clears out quickly come Friday.
I love the silence.
come closer to the screen.
closer.
I am here. Let me brush the eyelash from your cheek.
****
Smoke-filled bar. Loud and crowded. Posers and intellects in thick framed glasses. Plastic cups and bottled beer--You wonder what you're doing here.Your bright eyes flash but you look unhappy.
She is not here.
Your worn jacket, large pockets on the inside, hold the empties.
Her earring back is lodged deep in the lint fibers at the bottom.
Run it between your fingers like so many soft things.
Someone bumps into you and spills her beer, a cute brunette trying to act grown up, her white tennis shoes and second-hand argile sweater.
She's only 22.
You sigh and turn again toward the band--girls are twirling and spinning to the hard drum beat. The band sucks but your head bobs in time to the song being butchered. Your mind is elsewhere. Escaping to the bathroom for a change of scenery you push through the crowd that engulfs your frame--the girls rub up against you. This scene is so college town. Raising your head to avoid interaction with the tight-packed mob you see her there--on the balcony, her arms resting on the rail...
and she smiles.
She is smiling at you.
It looks cloudy outside--
I am staring at the screen--eyes glazed over, glasses are off.
It's quiet--only the hum of my computer and an occasional passing student; the clicking of my fingers on the keyboard. The place clears out quickly come Friday.
I love the silence.
come closer to the screen.
closer.
I am here. Let me brush the eyelash from your cheek.
****
Smoke-filled bar. Loud and crowded. Posers and intellects in thick framed glasses. Plastic cups and bottled beer--You wonder what you're doing here.Your bright eyes flash but you look unhappy.
She is not here.
Your worn jacket, large pockets on the inside, hold the empties.
Her earring back is lodged deep in the lint fibers at the bottom.
Run it between your fingers like so many soft things.
Someone bumps into you and spills her beer, a cute brunette trying to act grown up, her white tennis shoes and second-hand argile sweater.
She's only 22.
You sigh and turn again toward the band--girls are twirling and spinning to the hard drum beat. The band sucks but your head bobs in time to the song being butchered. Your mind is elsewhere. Escaping to the bathroom for a change of scenery you push through the crowd that engulfs your frame--the girls rub up against you. This scene is so college town. Raising your head to avoid interaction with the tight-packed mob you see her there--on the balcony, her arms resting on the rail...
and she smiles.
She is smiling at you.
9/22/2004
skipping stones and other plunks
I love skipping stones. It's more fun to do with someone else-- a competition automatically ensues. I never win, but enjoy the motion of throwing. Same with a frisbee--the motion and send-off, no matter where it lands is satisfying.
Last night I heard a great tune by Ricky Nelson called "That's All" read on for more...ok they are sappy, but when in the right frame of mine, nice.
I can only give you love that lasts forever,
And a promise to be near each time you call.
And the only heart I own
For you and you alone
That's all,
That's all...
***
If you're wondering what I'm asking in return, dear,
You'll be glad to know that my demands are small.
Say it's me that you'll adore,
For now and evermore
That's all,
That's all.
Last night I heard a great tune by Ricky Nelson called "That's All" read on for more...ok they are sappy, but when in the right frame of mine, nice.
I can only give you love that lasts forever,
And a promise to be near each time you call.
And the only heart I own
For you and you alone
That's all,
That's all...
***
If you're wondering what I'm asking in return, dear,
You'll be glad to know that my demands are small.
Say it's me that you'll adore,
For now and evermore
That's all,
That's all.
9/20/2004
on a blue background...the cresent moon rises
her sad, lonely eyes
gaze up at the distant moon
she howls her love song
c
it is a beautiful evening tonight--
the sky is midnight blue,
and the moon is glowing, throwing shadows on everything below.
my first bit of solitude all day and I am too exhausted to enjoy it.
the smells outside my window remind me of falls past;
football games, woodsmoke and hayrides, bonfires and attraction, walks with boys, yo la tengo's crickets.
timing and fate...fleeting and always off.
is it too late, I wonder.
what my heart feels-- what my heart knows
the rush of love washing over
tear stained pages of verse
longing and resentment
fear of rejection
I'll go to bed alone
and make the same wish on the moon
hoping, this time
that it may come true.
time: 8:45pm
gaze up at the distant moon
she howls her love song
c
it is a beautiful evening tonight--
the sky is midnight blue,
and the moon is glowing, throwing shadows on everything below.
my first bit of solitude all day and I am too exhausted to enjoy it.
the smells outside my window remind me of falls past;
football games, woodsmoke and hayrides, bonfires and attraction, walks with boys, yo la tengo's crickets.
timing and fate...fleeting and always off.
is it too late, I wonder.
what my heart feels-- what my heart knows
the rush of love washing over
tear stained pages of verse
longing and resentment
fear of rejection
I'll go to bed alone
and make the same wish on the moon
hoping, this time
that it may come true.
time: 8:45pm
9/15/2004
e.e.c. and baker's dozen
Every Tuesday night I listen to WFHB's Baker's Dozen. I like the program for the jazz and ballads he plays. He knows his music and will always play my requests. I think he expects my weekly call and anticipates what I will request. Then he plays one of his own, usually something that he knows I would like.
Last week it was Ellington's "Daydream" and some Cole Porter. I also requested an old favorite love song called "You Go to My Head". He promised over the airwaves to find it for this week.
Lilly and I were bathing by candlelight, a nightly occurrance for us while listening to his program. After the painfully long Lotus promo (yawn) he finally got around to playing some tunes. Mine was first. The second, a Billie Holiday tune that was out of this world
For one moment I felt like someone was doing something amazing for me.
my girl's tall with hard long eyes
as she stands, with her long hard hands keeping
silence on her dress, good for sleeping
is her long hard body filled with surprise
like a white shocking wire, when she smiles
a hard long smile it sometimes makes
gaily go clean through me tickling aches,
and the weak noise of her eyes easily files
my impatience to an edge--my girl's tall
and taut, with thin legs just like a vine
that's spent all of its life on a garden-wall,
and is going to die. When we grimly go to bed
with these legs she begins to heave and twine
about me, and to kiss my face and head.
Last week it was Ellington's "Daydream" and some Cole Porter. I also requested an old favorite love song called "You Go to My Head". He promised over the airwaves to find it for this week.
Lilly and I were bathing by candlelight, a nightly occurrance for us while listening to his program. After the painfully long Lotus promo (yawn) he finally got around to playing some tunes. Mine was first. The second, a Billie Holiday tune that was out of this world
For one moment I felt like someone was doing something amazing for me.
my girl's tall with hard long eyes
as she stands, with her long hard hands keeping
silence on her dress, good for sleeping
is her long hard body filled with surprise
like a white shocking wire, when she smiles
a hard long smile it sometimes makes
gaily go clean through me tickling aches,
and the weak noise of her eyes easily files
my impatience to an edge--my girl's tall
and taut, with thin legs just like a vine
that's spent all of its life on a garden-wall,
and is going to die. When we grimly go to bed
with these legs she begins to heave and twine
about me, and to kiss my face and head.
9/13/2004
september 12
The door slammed shut in her face and she felt the wisps of hair move with the sudden breeze. The exchange which seemed like years before was brief and cold. And the familiar taste of embarrassing shame flooded her mouth like so many sips of rancid wine fermenting too many years in the bottle.
He was shirtless and barefoot upon answering the door-- A familiar look that carried no pretense or suggestion. As she entered into the sparse front living space, he put his shirt back on, the first of a few exchanges that collected in her mind like bad episodes of nausia. He sat back down at the table where he had been working, closed the box of cheez-its (the second exchange) and looked at her with loathing. He had already distanced himself; protecting himself from feeling or truth. She tried to make light of his demeanor by laughing-- nervously picking the label off her beer bottle, but the desired effect didn't come. She looked down at the bottle wondering why she came.
Her face was flush as he spoke the words; his voice steady, unfeeling, as if reading a directive for a standardized test or scolding a small child. She put the bottle on the uneven table and watched the change below scatter. His toes were thin and dainty, one foot crossed over the other.
She knew this would be the last of their exchanges: the last time being so close to him, the last time she would be in a room alone with him. The tuber roses were wilting on the counter behind him.
They sat in silence as she finished her beer, she stood and said goodbye, waiting for him to respond.
He walked again with purpose to the door, as if getting rid of a magazine salesman or a zealot Christian and the door was closed. They both sighed--his a sigh of relief, hers a sigh of heartbreak.
9/08/2004
dukka and more
Friday a.m.
Cooler temps have moved into Indiana and sleeping is (finally) better.
I am excited--
I have had the itch to get back into the world of performing for some time now, but I know that time is precious these days and a show takes enormous amounts of it. To compromise, I have decided to try my hand at d-jing at the local station, WFHB, 91.3
When I listen to radio, which is seldom, that is the station where the dial is set.
So, after a few weeks/months of volunteer work, I hope to be joining the airwaves.
Also excited about an exhibit at Mather's Museum tonight called "The Allure of Clothing". I haven't been feeding the mind as much as I would like, and this will be a nice change of pace. Also reading a book about the atomic bomb and the survivors. I am hoping to work the stories into some monologues for my advanced theatre class.
Creativity abounds...But the inevitable fall and the bitter taste of lost love that accompanies this time is just days or weeks away...
Wednesday Night:
Parent-teacher night tonight-- yah!
after the last few sleepless nights of teething I am flipping spent.
she is so clingy right now and I am feeling a bit like the third man in the three-legged race. With twine. Or fine wire.
funny how one can feel so free and so tied down at the same time.
and so my patience is worn thin and I take it out on idiotic adolescent nimrods who don't know any better.
sigh.
and my punishment? Exhausting after school meetings with 75 hormone-laden firecrackers waiting to catch fire and blow the whole place to hell. Also a 6:45a.m. call for the same, presenting not-so-creative mimes to the morning crowd.
we need the money. I'll do anything...
well, except for the all-American car wash. I cannot stand the hecklers on the street wearing practically nothing and the perverts who take them up on it. The car usually comes out with streaks, but it's for a good cause, right?
The boys (and I repeat, boys) of the group suggested a wet t-shirt contest. Right, and the VP of the school could sit on the panel of judges.
Been feeling like a an old, fat spinster these days. I call the local radio station and request songs just to hear someone talk nice to me. Who cares if he's 65? I have a keen ability to block out the present and create my own reality.
I suppose I should hoist my cellulite ass out into the hall and guide the masses to their perspective classes.
Cooler temps have moved into Indiana and sleeping is (finally) better.
I am excited--
I have had the itch to get back into the world of performing for some time now, but I know that time is precious these days and a show takes enormous amounts of it. To compromise, I have decided to try my hand at d-jing at the local station, WFHB, 91.3
When I listen to radio, which is seldom, that is the station where the dial is set.
So, after a few weeks/months of volunteer work, I hope to be joining the airwaves.
Also excited about an exhibit at Mather's Museum tonight called "The Allure of Clothing". I haven't been feeding the mind as much as I would like, and this will be a nice change of pace. Also reading a book about the atomic bomb and the survivors. I am hoping to work the stories into some monologues for my advanced theatre class.
Creativity abounds...But the inevitable fall and the bitter taste of lost love that accompanies this time is just days or weeks away...
Wednesday Night:
Parent-teacher night tonight-- yah!
after the last few sleepless nights of teething I am flipping spent.
she is so clingy right now and I am feeling a bit like the third man in the three-legged race. With twine. Or fine wire.
funny how one can feel so free and so tied down at the same time.
and so my patience is worn thin and I take it out on idiotic adolescent nimrods who don't know any better.
sigh.
and my punishment? Exhausting after school meetings with 75 hormone-laden firecrackers waiting to catch fire and blow the whole place to hell. Also a 6:45a.m. call for the same, presenting not-so-creative mimes to the morning crowd.
we need the money. I'll do anything...
well, except for the all-American car wash. I cannot stand the hecklers on the street wearing practically nothing and the perverts who take them up on it. The car usually comes out with streaks, but it's for a good cause, right?
The boys (and I repeat, boys) of the group suggested a wet t-shirt contest. Right, and the VP of the school could sit on the panel of judges.
Been feeling like a an old, fat spinster these days. I call the local radio station and request songs just to hear someone talk nice to me. Who cares if he's 65? I have a keen ability to block out the present and create my own reality.
I suppose I should hoist my cellulite ass out into the hall and guide the masses to their perspective classes.
9/03/2004
they that have pow'r to hurt, and will do none,
They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.
#94
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.
#94
8/31/2004
HBO sounds like BO
I don't have HBO but I really don't feel like I am missing out on much. I rarely watch tv for several reasons--one of which is I just don't have time.
I did happen to watch a few minutes of the 2004 Republican National Convention. Sad really. Comical...
Bush lauded as bold, decisive
Speaker after speaker Monday evening at the Republican National Convention said President Bush's resolve in defeating terrorism demonstrates the need to re-elect him. Former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani, in office at the time of the September 11 attacks, said Bush "sees world terrorism for the evil that it is," while Democratic opponent John Kerry "has no such clear, precise and consistent vision."
yawn.
I did happen to watch a few minutes of the 2004 Republican National Convention. Sad really. Comical...
Bush lauded as bold, decisive
Speaker after speaker Monday evening at the Republican National Convention said President Bush's resolve in defeating terrorism demonstrates the need to re-elect him. Former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani, in office at the time of the September 11 attacks, said Bush "sees world terrorism for the evil that it is," while Democratic opponent John Kerry "has no such clear, precise and consistent vision."
yawn.
8/30/2004
throw-away society
today after buying my grande, non-fat latte at Starbucks with a plastic lid and paper sleeve, I took a plastic spoon from the counter, mixed in raw sugar, pitched the paper sugar container and threw the spoon in the trash can. I felt guilty upon leaving. I should have licked the spoon and put it back in the container.
It's cold and dark out today. A full moon tonight--
and it is August 30. I suck in to avoid the blow to stomach whenever I think something may inflict pain.
I slept on the couch and dreamed of my old church in Florida, St. Mark's. There was a Catholic confirmation in process and I was the lay reader. I sat in back. It felt like I was in a show more than a worship service. There was a train ride just to get to the altar. I never made it to the front for some reason--not even during communion. The trainride was endless.
Later, I contracted herpies but had no idea how. Passing miles of chintz and antique stores, my dad found a Walgreens and bought me and my sisters single stem roses. Mine was orange. They were hideous. There were special buds for sale at teh counter for $6.50 each. They were as big as a softball and floated on the water like those cheesy candles at an evening wedding reception.
We had to return the money collected at the offertory to the church. My sister Becky thought one of us stole her money. It was in a paper envelope stuck in a wad at the bottom of my purse.
My great aunt showed up (she is 87) and then we went to the house to eat ham.
I woke up drenched in sweat, covered in blankets--Lilly curled up under my arm.
Today is August 30. Are you ready?
It's cold and dark out today. A full moon tonight--
and it is August 30. I suck in to avoid the blow to stomach whenever I think something may inflict pain.
I slept on the couch and dreamed of my old church in Florida, St. Mark's. There was a Catholic confirmation in process and I was the lay reader. I sat in back. It felt like I was in a show more than a worship service. There was a train ride just to get to the altar. I never made it to the front for some reason--not even during communion. The trainride was endless.
Later, I contracted herpies but had no idea how. Passing miles of chintz and antique stores, my dad found a Walgreens and bought me and my sisters single stem roses. Mine was orange. They were hideous. There were special buds for sale at teh counter for $6.50 each. They were as big as a softball and floated on the water like those cheesy candles at an evening wedding reception.
We had to return the money collected at the offertory to the church. My sister Becky thought one of us stole her money. It was in a paper envelope stuck in a wad at the bottom of my purse.
My great aunt showed up (she is 87) and then we went to the house to eat ham.
I woke up drenched in sweat, covered in blankets--Lilly curled up under my arm.
Today is August 30. Are you ready?
8/27/2004
lost at sea
XC
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss:
Ah! do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come: so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might;
And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so.
I am at a loss for words today. I think of the weekend, Emma singing "Goodbye" and yellow leaves falling on the grass, wind blowing through my hair.
Meet me at the wrecking ball. I'll wear something pretty and white and we'll go dancing tonight.
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss:
Ah! do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come: so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might;
And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so.
I am at a loss for words today. I think of the weekend, Emma singing "Goodbye" and yellow leaves falling on the grass, wind blowing through my hair.
Meet me at the wrecking ball. I'll wear something pretty and white and we'll go dancing tonight.
8/25/2004
charlie parker
said- if you don't live it, it won't come out of your horn.
And today I was reminded how pitiful my writing is. As in acting, one can never fully reach perfection.
The first day of the school year ended without a hitch. My classes, although too early to tell, seem relatively well-mannered. I am the one who gets a little manic when up in front. I know that I spoke more today than I have in three months; since the last day of school at my music stand.
Today I am feeling vulnerable and ridiculous. It is the shame that lingers--a deep penetrating shame that turns to self-loathing and bottoms out into destructive tendencies. The past, no matter how insignificant today, still haunts me. Lost time (and pride) but many lessons learned. So why does it seem like I am right back where I started?
And today I was reminded how pitiful my writing is. As in acting, one can never fully reach perfection.
The first day of the school year ended without a hitch. My classes, although too early to tell, seem relatively well-mannered. I am the one who gets a little manic when up in front. I know that I spoke more today than I have in three months; since the last day of school at my music stand.
Today I am feeling vulnerable and ridiculous. It is the shame that lingers--a deep penetrating shame that turns to self-loathing and bottoms out into destructive tendencies. The past, no matter how insignificant today, still haunts me. Lost time (and pride) but many lessons learned. So why does it seem like I am right back where I started?
8/23/2004
a new favorite
it's funny what time does to a person. i spent the whole of my afternoon scrutinizing and observing my colleagues-- you can see the tired look in some eyes; the hopeful, inspired look in others. others you see the unspeakable hollow pain that only the eyes can reflect. still others there is a deep sadness,loneliness and longing; and still in others i see the prolonged abuse of drugs and booze to escape life's tragic events--or just life. i fit somewhere in the midst of that endless highway of life.
some people never seem to leave my mind. they linger there and the smallest of detail washes over--hands, eyes, lips, gate, voice, chest. others whom I have known for a lifetime are a fleeting thought; a memory or a character read in a book by chekhov. bitter lip biting, leaves caught in a wind tunnel, phermones strong and overpowering. its an unquenchable thirst--i put my head down, set my jaw and slip into the night.
when i used to perform, once the butterflies ceased, i knew it was time to give it up. the audience would be able to see in your eyes the insincerity of the performance.
this is the first year i don't feel the butterflies.
just finished reading chapter 1 in richard bloeslavsky's book on acting "concentration". my friend said that was the only book on acting i would ever need. he was right. right on.
some people never seem to leave my mind. they linger there and the smallest of detail washes over--hands, eyes, lips, gate, voice, chest. others whom I have known for a lifetime are a fleeting thought; a memory or a character read in a book by chekhov. bitter lip biting, leaves caught in a wind tunnel, phermones strong and overpowering. its an unquenchable thirst--i put my head down, set my jaw and slip into the night.
when i used to perform, once the butterflies ceased, i knew it was time to give it up. the audience would be able to see in your eyes the insincerity of the performance.
this is the first year i don't feel the butterflies.
just finished reading chapter 1 in richard bloeslavsky's book on acting "concentration". my friend said that was the only book on acting i would ever need. he was right. right on.
8/19/2004
all quiet on the mid-western blog
XCVII
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
And yet this time removed was summer's time;
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:
Yet this abundant issue seemed to me
But hope of orphans, and unfathered fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute:
Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.
My heart is in my throat and my gut is unsettled.
It has been difficult to read his works.
But lately I tend to ruminate different themes.
36, 96...
I separated my aloe today-- had to throw the mother plant out, which always feels to me like murder. Looking for a few good homes.
It is raining today (Friday) and I am enjoying the solace of the room.
In the meanwhile, Tweedy on my devoted readers, Tweedy on:
Company In My Back
I attack with love, pure bug beauty
I curl my lips and crawl up to you
I attack with love, pure bug beauty
I curl my lips and crawl up to you
And your afternoon
And I've been puking
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
Hide your soft skin, your sorrow is sunshine
Listen to my eyes
Hide your soft skin, your sorrow is sunshine
Listen to my eyes
They are hissing radiator tunes
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
You learn so slow, old radiant beauty
I'll curve my flight
You learn so slow, old radiant beauty
I'll curve my flight
Under your bended knee
And I will always die
I will always die
I will always die
So you can remember me
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit, there's a company in my back
There's a company in my back
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
And yet this time removed was summer's time;
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:
Yet this abundant issue seemed to me
But hope of orphans, and unfathered fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute:
Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.
My heart is in my throat and my gut is unsettled.
It has been difficult to read his works.
But lately I tend to ruminate different themes.
36, 96...
I separated my aloe today-- had to throw the mother plant out, which always feels to me like murder. Looking for a few good homes.
It is raining today (Friday) and I am enjoying the solace of the room.
In the meanwhile, Tweedy on my devoted readers, Tweedy on:
Company In My Back
I attack with love, pure bug beauty
I curl my lips and crawl up to you
I attack with love, pure bug beauty
I curl my lips and crawl up to you
And your afternoon
And I've been puking
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
Hide your soft skin, your sorrow is sunshine
Listen to my eyes
Hide your soft skin, your sorrow is sunshine
Listen to my eyes
They are hissing radiator tunes
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
You learn so slow, old radiant beauty
I'll curve my flight
You learn so slow, old radiant beauty
I'll curve my flight
Under your bended knee
And I will always die
I will always die
I will always die
So you can remember me
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit, there's a company in my back
There's a company in my back
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