Best wishes for a great New Year.
C
12/28/2005
12/12/2005
"If You Forget Me"
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
Pablo Neruda
OK, so I caved. But honestly, it has been a struggle, the past few days.
Maybe it's the birthday looming next week, maybe the season, the move, the divorce, the dreams, on and on..
I am sad. Just a little.
Hope you are doing well.
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
Pablo Neruda
OK, so I caved. But honestly, it has been a struggle, the past few days.
Maybe it's the birthday looming next week, maybe the season, the move, the divorce, the dreams, on and on..
I am sad. Just a little.
Hope you are doing well.
12/03/2005
“At the end of what is called the "sexual life" the only love which has lasted is the love which has everything, every disappointment, every failure and every betrayal, which has accepted even the sad fact that in the end there is no desire so deep as the simple desire for companionship."
-Graham Greene
--is this why our parents stay together?
December 3, 2005. 9:05 a.m.
I have weened myself from the blog. No longer do I read it, write on it or keep up with it. Today, however, I am proctoring the SAT, so here I am.
Now that I am completely settled into the new place, I am finally at home. Picking up the last of my belongings from a house I lived in for 8 years was gut-wrenching. I left so much of the past life behind—photos, televisions, furniture, unnecessary stuff. It was liberating.
I recently saw ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW and BROKEN FLOWERS.Both movies worth a look-see. Tonight I plan to see either THE CONSTANT GARDENER or Steve Martin’s new one, SHOPGIRL.
I am enjoying this new-found solo-celibate life. It is simple. Uncomplicated.
I am the master of my moods—of my choices. I like the comfortable arms-reach distance placed between myself and others. Nothing stirs—nothing hurts. Sure, companionship would be a nice addition, but with that comes emotional attachment. And not far behind—loss, deception, pain. It comes crashing down. Why does the human heart and mind constantly seek a soul mate when it knows that it is an impossibility?
WFHB has been a satisfying outlet for my muse-ic cravings..my latest favs include: Wilco's Live in Chicago Kicking Television, Broken Social Scene, The Clientele Strange Geometry, and even The Southland Influence of Geometry. Never appreciated geometry much--but on these albums it's fine.
****
I don't think about the past now. The only time I do is in the occasional nightmare. Then I am plagued only in waking time by those haunted feelings and those empty faces once again.
-Graham Greene
--is this why our parents stay together?
December 3, 2005. 9:05 a.m.
I have weened myself from the blog. No longer do I read it, write on it or keep up with it. Today, however, I am proctoring the SAT, so here I am.
Now that I am completely settled into the new place, I am finally at home. Picking up the last of my belongings from a house I lived in for 8 years was gut-wrenching. I left so much of the past life behind—photos, televisions, furniture, unnecessary stuff. It was liberating.
I recently saw ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW and BROKEN FLOWERS.Both movies worth a look-see. Tonight I plan to see either THE CONSTANT GARDENER or Steve Martin’s new one, SHOPGIRL.
I am enjoying this new-found solo-celibate life. It is simple. Uncomplicated.
I am the master of my moods—of my choices. I like the comfortable arms-reach distance placed between myself and others. Nothing stirs—nothing hurts. Sure, companionship would be a nice addition, but with that comes emotional attachment. And not far behind—loss, deception, pain. It comes crashing down. Why does the human heart and mind constantly seek a soul mate when it knows that it is an impossibility?
WFHB has been a satisfying outlet for my muse-ic cravings..my latest favs include: Wilco's Live in Chicago Kicking Television, Broken Social Scene, The Clientele Strange Geometry, and even The Southland Influence of Geometry. Never appreciated geometry much--but on these albums it's fine.
****
I don't think about the past now. The only time I do is in the occasional nightmare. Then I am plagued only in waking time by those haunted feelings and those empty faces once again.
11/15/2005
bath time
kitty kisses
favorite places
pumpkins 
The Great Pumpkin
11/14/2005
"Soul Meets Body"
I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new
Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where they’re far more suited than here
I cannot guess what we'll discover
We turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hand can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain
I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new
Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where they’re far more suited than here
I cannot guess what we'll discover
We turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hand can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain
I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
10/05/2005
9/30/2005
233 pm
.."And these children that you spit on
as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations.
They're quite aware of what they're going through..."
-David Bowie
Friday. Homecoming weekend.
Today's schedule was shortened to allow time for a pep rally.
As I have prep period fifth, I opted out of the loud, unpeppy session in order to finish grading papers. It is complete chaos. I close my door and ascend the stairs to retrieve my daily mail. My tick (as he is now affectionately known) caught me after the final bell and produced, "I knew you wouldn't be there."
He exited outside into the bright autumn sunlight. He was empty-handed--no book, no back pack. Earlier today he affectionately called me his "mom at school."
I sighed and continued up the steep steps into a sea of purple and white.
Classes have been intermittently satisfying, al biet challenging.
Periods two and four are classes full of beginning theatre students, made up of 33 students from all walks of life. Freshman, mostly. I am not sure whether to be outraged or flattered by the clientelle; students with major disabilities, including 2 with Tourettes, Downs Syndrome, Autism (Aspergers), severe ADHD, not to mention your usual LDs. Included in the mix are foreign exchange students from Spain, Ukraine, Venezuela, UK and Korea (she speaks NO English), along with a handful of GT students in one class. How does one accomplish her task when the levels are so dramatically different; their needs beyond what I have the ability to manage?
A new student joined our class today--6 weeks into school. This one an angry, African American woman transfer from the neighboring high school (North). I am delighted. I do what I can. No more does it bring joy as once did.
Now that the dreadful musical from hell is over, the pressure is on to select the rest of the season. Burnout contiunes to rear its ugly head and the thought of doing absolutely nothing (and announcing it to horrified thespians) brings such delight that actually following through is more than tempting.
I am currently considering John Hughes' The Breakfast Club, simply because it is a no-brainer and a big sell. I am interested in making it a multi-medium; using black and white film scenes interspersed with the sedintary libray moments. It looks good in my mind, however the execution is always where the challenge lies.
I am locked into another musical for the spring and have selected one. I am keeping it from everyone because the torture of waiting is always so much better than the pathos or hubris of knowing. I like to keep my cherubs in suspense. The sheer exhaustion that comes with mounting a production is daunting. I sit here quietly enjoying time to write; time that is my own. That will cease to be once I announce anything. I refuse to give up my radio show for work. WFHB and new music has been my safe harbor this year. The Ponys are coming in October--- and Viva Voche's "Lesson No. One" just makes me happy.
On other fronts, freedom is soon mine.
I found another apartment with 2 bedrooms in a nicer area. Living in Basswood has been humbling and often times frightening. Giving up my bed for Lilly has been a sacrifice. But the older she gets, the more important it is for her to have her own space. This new apartment will be liberating for both of us.
I am solid and balanced. I feel good.
And waking up next to me is a fucking beautiful thing.
**
One more thing:
I am angry that now blogs get SPAM (see comment below). I don't get comments usually, but when I get these ridiculous solicitations-- it reminds me that nothing is free from advertising.
Any suggestions?
Have a good weekend.
as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations.
They're quite aware of what they're going through..."
-David Bowie
Friday. Homecoming weekend.
Today's schedule was shortened to allow time for a pep rally.
As I have prep period fifth, I opted out of the loud, unpeppy session in order to finish grading papers. It is complete chaos. I close my door and ascend the stairs to retrieve my daily mail. My tick (as he is now affectionately known) caught me after the final bell and produced, "I knew you wouldn't be there."
He exited outside into the bright autumn sunlight. He was empty-handed--no book, no back pack. Earlier today he affectionately called me his "mom at school."
I sighed and continued up the steep steps into a sea of purple and white.
Classes have been intermittently satisfying, al biet challenging.
Periods two and four are classes full of beginning theatre students, made up of 33 students from all walks of life. Freshman, mostly. I am not sure whether to be outraged or flattered by the clientelle; students with major disabilities, including 2 with Tourettes, Downs Syndrome, Autism (Aspergers), severe ADHD, not to mention your usual LDs. Included in the mix are foreign exchange students from Spain, Ukraine, Venezuela, UK and Korea (she speaks NO English), along with a handful of GT students in one class. How does one accomplish her task when the levels are so dramatically different; their needs beyond what I have the ability to manage?
A new student joined our class today--6 weeks into school. This one an angry, African American woman transfer from the neighboring high school (North). I am delighted. I do what I can. No more does it bring joy as once did.
Now that the dreadful musical from hell is over, the pressure is on to select the rest of the season. Burnout contiunes to rear its ugly head and the thought of doing absolutely nothing (and announcing it to horrified thespians) brings such delight that actually following through is more than tempting.
I am currently considering John Hughes' The Breakfast Club, simply because it is a no-brainer and a big sell. I am interested in making it a multi-medium; using black and white film scenes interspersed with the sedintary libray moments. It looks good in my mind, however the execution is always where the challenge lies.
I am locked into another musical for the spring and have selected one. I am keeping it from everyone because the torture of waiting is always so much better than the pathos or hubris of knowing. I like to keep my cherubs in suspense. The sheer exhaustion that comes with mounting a production is daunting. I sit here quietly enjoying time to write; time that is my own. That will cease to be once I announce anything. I refuse to give up my radio show for work. WFHB and new music has been my safe harbor this year. The Ponys are coming in October--- and Viva Voche's "Lesson No. One" just makes me happy.
On other fronts, freedom is soon mine.
I found another apartment with 2 bedrooms in a nicer area. Living in Basswood has been humbling and often times frightening. Giving up my bed for Lilly has been a sacrifice. But the older she gets, the more important it is for her to have her own space. This new apartment will be liberating for both of us.
I am solid and balanced. I feel good.
And waking up next to me is a fucking beautiful thing.
**
One more thing:
I am angry that now blogs get SPAM (see comment below). I don't get comments usually, but when I get these ridiculous solicitations-- it reminds me that nothing is free from advertising.
Any suggestions?
Have a good weekend.
9/25/2005
Moving Pictures Silent Films
Oh wake me please when this is over
Oh when the ice is melted away
And the hunger returns
I will feel the same but older
And I'll be twice the man that I thought I was
Where have you been?
And what have you done?
I've been under the ground
Reading prayers from this old book I found
Under the ground
Saving it up
And spending it all
On moving pictures
Silent films
Moving pictures
Silent films
Oh is this the dream I've been saving?
Oh where the heart beats slower and slower
To almost nothing
Almost nothing
Almost nothing
I took her for love or
At least something beautiful
Out there in the spotlight
But turned around softly
Turned around squinting
It's all they heard was headlights (?)
And then the truth
The truth was unbearable
Oh and iminent
Bearing down on these two shadowed animals
Caught painting a dotted line
Caught painting a dotted line
***
The past and present seem to be merging together today
and my heart and mind are not sure how to interpret.
I watched in awe this morning as a significant number of Monarch butterflies took flight--and wondered if this was an annual ritual. They flew unusually high and at first glance I thought they were bats.
But it was daylight.
I realized today that I never knew my grandparents--neither of my grandfathers (they both died when I was 2),nor do I feel that I knew my grandmothers well either.
I suppose this doesn't matter, but to me it makes solitude that much more real; blantent.
I am tired. So many changes happening to me-I just wonder why it has taken so long. I could have been living life the way it was intended had I known the things I know now. Does this make any sense?
Oh when the ice is melted away
And the hunger returns
I will feel the same but older
And I'll be twice the man that I thought I was
Where have you been?
And what have you done?
I've been under the ground
Reading prayers from this old book I found
Under the ground
Saving it up
And spending it all
On moving pictures
Silent films
Moving pictures
Silent films
Oh is this the dream I've been saving?
Oh where the heart beats slower and slower
To almost nothing
Almost nothing
Almost nothing
I took her for love or
At least something beautiful
Out there in the spotlight
But turned around softly
Turned around squinting
It's all they heard was headlights (?)
And then the truth
The truth was unbearable
Oh and iminent
Bearing down on these two shadowed animals
Caught painting a dotted line
Caught painting a dotted line
***
The past and present seem to be merging together today
and my heart and mind are not sure how to interpret.
I watched in awe this morning as a significant number of Monarch butterflies took flight--and wondered if this was an annual ritual. They flew unusually high and at first glance I thought they were bats.
But it was daylight.
I realized today that I never knew my grandparents--neither of my grandfathers (they both died when I was 2),nor do I feel that I knew my grandmothers well either.
I suppose this doesn't matter, but to me it makes solitude that much more real; blantent.
I am tired. So many changes happening to me-I just wonder why it has taken so long. I could have been living life the way it was intended had I known the things I know now. Does this make any sense?
9/20/2005
verse 24
Standing on tiptoe will only make you tipsy,
Walking with long strides will not allow a long walk.
Shining the light on yourself will never enlighten you.
Being self-righteous precludes you from being right.
Boasting about yourself will never boost your eminence.
Parading yourself parodies leadership.
Tao consciousness avoids
the cultivation of all these ego-bloated voids.
This is day two of being home sick. I rarely if ever get sick, and when it happens it seems to be something big. This time is no exception--acute asthmatic bronchitis. I have slept more in the last two days than all of last week combined. The path to recovery, just like everything, is slow but steady.
Pernice Brothers was a great show. Despite how miserable I felt, the music was just what I needed. Been feeling shackled down lately at work and home.
On Friday, I decided to do something for myself, Reiki. A mother of one of my actors does it as a pracitice and she offered her services. Her first comments to me after she finished were, "have you been doing yoga? Have you been practicing? Your guides were pleased!"
I was delighted to hear her news--and went away feeling balanced and ready to resume the stress that comes with theatre.
Life has been lonely, but I am content. Other people seem to muddy up everything.
And being ignored no longer bothers me. In fact, I have come to accept alienation and often times welcome it.
Now, back to nose blowing.
Walking with long strides will not allow a long walk.
Shining the light on yourself will never enlighten you.
Being self-righteous precludes you from being right.
Boasting about yourself will never boost your eminence.
Parading yourself parodies leadership.
Tao consciousness avoids
the cultivation of all these ego-bloated voids.
This is day two of being home sick. I rarely if ever get sick, and when it happens it seems to be something big. This time is no exception--acute asthmatic bronchitis. I have slept more in the last two days than all of last week combined. The path to recovery, just like everything, is slow but steady.
Pernice Brothers was a great show. Despite how miserable I felt, the music was just what I needed. Been feeling shackled down lately at work and home.
On Friday, I decided to do something for myself, Reiki. A mother of one of my actors does it as a pracitice and she offered her services. Her first comments to me after she finished were, "have you been doing yoga? Have you been practicing? Your guides were pleased!"
I was delighted to hear her news--and went away feeling balanced and ready to resume the stress that comes with theatre.
Life has been lonely, but I am content. Other people seem to muddy up everything.
And being ignored no longer bothers me. In fact, I have come to accept alienation and often times welcome it.
Now, back to nose blowing.
9/17/2005
"saddest quo"
There's a train wreck
picking up survivors from a plane crash on the tv live.
It's a sad status quotient
waiting for the sky to fall.
Pernice Brothers tonight. I love their Smith-like melodies and lyrics.
My guides tell me I am doing fantastic; why, then do I feel so unwell?
picking up survivors from a plane crash on the tv live.
It's a sad status quotient
waiting for the sky to fall.
Pernice Brothers tonight. I love their Smith-like melodies and lyrics.
My guides tell me I am doing fantastic; why, then do I feel so unwell?
9/05/2005
ice on the welcome mat
looking for the consummate food and ultimate music..
I think I found them both today. (verse 35)
Things on my mind:
Red Flags
Unnecessary Sorries
Music to get lost in
Independence
Personal power
Woodsmoke
Dreaming big
Embracing color
cool temps
photography and changing scenery
subtle differences
pleasure reading
I think I found them both today. (verse 35)
Things on my mind:
Red Flags
Unnecessary Sorries
Music to get lost in
Independence
Personal power
Woodsmoke
Dreaming big
Embracing color
cool temps
photography and changing scenery
subtle differences
pleasure reading
9/04/2005
"a lover's prayer"
I made a lover’s prayer
I made a lover’s prayer
Then watched the sky
Then wanted to cry
S’ only you and I
And how I try
I made a lover’s prayer
I made a lover’s prayer
I made a lover’s prayer
Help me rise above
What I’m thinking of
Just a little more love
Just a little more love
I made a lover’s prayer
I made a lover’s prayer
I made a lover’s prayer
-Gillian Welch fm. Soul Journey
Looking forward to the following:
It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world
Get Carter
Sweet Smell of Success
My Man Godfrey
HUD and
The Asphalt Jungle
Also, watching The Quiet American again.
Next weekend I am ushering for the Carrie Newcomer/Krista Detour show at BuZ Chum.
Also, hoping to see Zen Master, Robert Joshin Althouse next Friday.
Lots to be thankful for-however, this time of year always stirs up sad memories.
Hope you are well.
Ciao
I made a lover’s prayer
Then watched the sky
Then wanted to cry
S’ only you and I
And how I try
I made a lover’s prayer
I made a lover’s prayer
I made a lover’s prayer
Help me rise above
What I’m thinking of
Just a little more love
Just a little more love
I made a lover’s prayer
I made a lover’s prayer
I made a lover’s prayer
-Gillian Welch fm. Soul Journey
Looking forward to the following:
It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world
Get Carter
Sweet Smell of Success
My Man Godfrey
HUD and
The Asphalt Jungle
Also, watching The Quiet American again.
Next weekend I am ushering for the Carrie Newcomer/Krista Detour show at BuZ Chum.
Also, hoping to see Zen Master, Robert Joshin Althouse next Friday.
Lots to be thankful for-however, this time of year always stirs up sad memories.
Hope you are well.
Ciao
8/28/2005
verse 43
That which is most tender can overcome that which is most rigid.
That which has least substance can penetrate
that which has least space.
Acting without deliberate action,
and teaching without uttering a word are rarely practiced.
So few find their way to the Great Integrity.
- Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzo
I just returned home from a long bike ride and noticed the clouds darkening behind me. Thankful I made it back before the storm, I sat, drenched in sweat, on my porch and watched the clouds roll in.
The storm was refreshing, offering me relief from the heat. I decided to linger on the porch, listening to the rain soak into all living around me. 
I love to see nature at its finest.
And also, Lilly's first cup of coffee:
my god, what have I done?
That which has least substance can penetrate
that which has least space.
Acting without deliberate action,
and teaching without uttering a word are rarely practiced.
So few find their way to the Great Integrity.
- Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzo
I just returned home from a long bike ride and noticed the clouds darkening behind me. Thankful I made it back before the storm, I sat, drenched in sweat, on my porch and watched the clouds roll in.
The storm was refreshing, offering me relief from the heat. I decided to linger on the porch, listening to the rain soak into all living around me. I love to see nature at its finest.
And also, Lilly's first cup of coffee:
my god, what have I done?
8/24/2005
"fountain of sorrow"
First day of school and I had a little time before getting back on the horse. I love Jackson Brown's song lyrics. Some are complete cheese--but some so profound. Like this song:
(second verse..)
Now the things that I remember seem so distant and so small
Though it hasn't really been that long a time
What I was seeing wasn't what was happening at all
Although for a while our path did seem to climb
When you see through love's illusions, there lies the danger
And your perfect lover just looks like a perfect fool
So you go running off in search of a perfect stranger
While the loneliness seems to spring from your life
Like a fountain from a pool
***
Now for you and me it may not be that hard to reach our dreams
But that magic feeling never seems to last
And all the future's there for anyone to change, still you know it seems
It would be easier sometimes to change the past
I'm just one or two years and a couple of changes behind you
In my lessons of love's pain and heartache school
Where if you feel too free and you need something to remind you
There's this loneliness springing up from your life
Like a fountain from a pool
I saw Willie Nelson on Monday night at the Vogue in Broadripple.
I stood four feet away in the front and watched every subtle detail. It was powerful to see someone have such dynamism at 75. Before the show I ate sushi at a nearby sushi bar and sitting next to me were Willie's basss and harmonica players. I never know how to address celebrities, so I said nothing. Still, it was an isolated yet intense moment for me.
(second verse..)
Now the things that I remember seem so distant and so small
Though it hasn't really been that long a time
What I was seeing wasn't what was happening at all
Although for a while our path did seem to climb
When you see through love's illusions, there lies the danger
And your perfect lover just looks like a perfect fool
So you go running off in search of a perfect stranger
While the loneliness seems to spring from your life
Like a fountain from a pool
***
Now for you and me it may not be that hard to reach our dreams
But that magic feeling never seems to last
And all the future's there for anyone to change, still you know it seems
It would be easier sometimes to change the past
I'm just one or two years and a couple of changes behind you
In my lessons of love's pain and heartache school
Where if you feel too free and you need something to remind you
There's this loneliness springing up from your life
Like a fountain from a pool
I saw Willie Nelson on Monday night at the Vogue in Broadripple.
I stood four feet away in the front and watched every subtle detail. It was powerful to see someone have such dynamism at 75. Before the show I ate sushi at a nearby sushi bar and sitting next to me were Willie's basss and harmonica players. I never know how to address celebrities, so I said nothing. Still, it was an isolated yet intense moment for me.
8/21/2005
my posture, huh?
8/19/2005
guided by wire--an after thought
I could never choose the ones to love
And the ones who took the credit left me reelin'
But I owe much to the nameless
Those who're singin' my life back to me
I see you in the future, skippin' time
While the eyes of all the faithful rest in peace
Yet tonight I see the highway
And someone singin' my life back to me
-Neko Case fm. Furnace Room Lullaby (2000)
I have been contemplating the idea of the cruel coin of love for several days now.
And these are the only things I know to be true:
1. To love means to suffer.
2. To love means to be vulnerable.
3. To love, one must take risks and sacrifice.
4. To know love means to let go.
5. To love means to accept and embrace another fully.
6. Love does not come unless the heart is receptive to love.
7. We attract the very traits in someone else that we see in ourselves.
8. I have loved fully and deeply and lost.
9. Many will never know love--they are both blessed and cursed.
I have spent the last two years trying to understand the coin concept and have concluded that there is no answer that pacifies.
I have shown my soul to a few and we have seen each other clearly, beautifully.
For that I am eternally grateful.
Last thoughts that are playing on the cd player as I write this:
what she saw in him
nobody knew
it's a mystery
what she saw in him
nobody could tell
now it's history
all is forgivin'
i love her still
and we're home, home
goin' home -Luna fm Bewitched
Ciao.
And the ones who took the credit left me reelin'
But I owe much to the nameless
Those who're singin' my life back to me
I see you in the future, skippin' time
While the eyes of all the faithful rest in peace
Yet tonight I see the highway
And someone singin' my life back to me
-Neko Case fm. Furnace Room Lullaby (2000)
I have been contemplating the idea of the cruel coin of love for several days now.
And these are the only things I know to be true:
1. To love means to suffer.
2. To love means to be vulnerable.
3. To love, one must take risks and sacrifice.
4. To know love means to let go.
5. To love means to accept and embrace another fully.
6. Love does not come unless the heart is receptive to love.
7. We attract the very traits in someone else that we see in ourselves.
8. I have loved fully and deeply and lost.
9. Many will never know love--they are both blessed and cursed.
I have spent the last two years trying to understand the coin concept and have concluded that there is no answer that pacifies.
I have shown my soul to a few and we have seen each other clearly, beautifully.
For that I am eternally grateful.
Last thoughts that are playing on the cd player as I write this:
what she saw in him
nobody knew
it's a mystery
what she saw in him
nobody could tell
now it's history
all is forgivin'
i love her still
and we're home, home
goin' home -Luna fm Bewitched
Ciao.
8/17/2005
i had to get drunk just to look at your face--and that's all right by me.
It's 1:20pm on a Wednesday.
I slept until 10am ( a rarity/luxury) and as I stood up from the bed, blood gushed from between my legs. Confused and terrified, I struggled to the john and blotted the dark black blood as it continued to ooze from below. Feeling faint, I manuvered myself into the bath and ran the hot water on my lower limbs and orifices. I started to cry.
****
I had heard that someone from my therapy group leaked the untellable to the person it would hurt the most. His bitterness and anger with me on the phone, the obvious betrayal he felt just made it all more painful to revisit that time and those feelings again. I don't want to grieve any more. Her thoughtless, drunken conversation has now opened up another painful, agonizing wound that will take months to smooth over for everyone affected. Thus, also reminding me-- I will never love again.
My first time going to group and seeing her there, I knew it would be difficult to open up completely. The pact was made; we were sworn with words. And now, tonight when I go in there, it will take everything that I have not to rip her hair out. I am, once again, reminded why I will never trust, particularly women. I loathe women.
****
My parents came down yesterday for the first time since I moved in to the apartment. They only come to visit when I am rendered helpless and need assistance. To see their only grandchild means I must make the effort to drive to the old house of memories for their weekend fix and my weekend lecture.
But this time I needed money and food. After they left, I closed the blinds and slept until the evening. The sense of shame I feel is a shroud that weighs heavily.
***
Using the towel to dry myself, I thought back to a time early in my pregnancy when I had a bout with spotting. Still struggling with the concept of being a mother, I was conflicted with different emotions-- my first one was that I lost the baby, the second, but then I would not be pregnant anymore. I clung to the first, as at that moment in time I knew that I wanted to have a child.
Today I could only think that this freak accident was my body finally catching up with what I have been trying to purge for years now, in a beautiful display of color swirling down the drain.
I slept until 10am ( a rarity/luxury) and as I stood up from the bed, blood gushed from between my legs. Confused and terrified, I struggled to the john and blotted the dark black blood as it continued to ooze from below. Feeling faint, I manuvered myself into the bath and ran the hot water on my lower limbs and orifices. I started to cry.
****
I had heard that someone from my therapy group leaked the untellable to the person it would hurt the most. His bitterness and anger with me on the phone, the obvious betrayal he felt just made it all more painful to revisit that time and those feelings again. I don't want to grieve any more. Her thoughtless, drunken conversation has now opened up another painful, agonizing wound that will take months to smooth over for everyone affected. Thus, also reminding me-- I will never love again.
My first time going to group and seeing her there, I knew it would be difficult to open up completely. The pact was made; we were sworn with words. And now, tonight when I go in there, it will take everything that I have not to rip her hair out. I am, once again, reminded why I will never trust, particularly women. I loathe women.
****
My parents came down yesterday for the first time since I moved in to the apartment. They only come to visit when I am rendered helpless and need assistance. To see their only grandchild means I must make the effort to drive to the old house of memories for their weekend fix and my weekend lecture.
But this time I needed money and food. After they left, I closed the blinds and slept until the evening. The sense of shame I feel is a shroud that weighs heavily.
***
Using the towel to dry myself, I thought back to a time early in my pregnancy when I had a bout with spotting. Still struggling with the concept of being a mother, I was conflicted with different emotions-- my first one was that I lost the baby, the second, but then I would not be pregnant anymore. I clung to the first, as at that moment in time I knew that I wanted to have a child.
Today I could only think that this freak accident was my body finally catching up with what I have been trying to purge for years now, in a beautiful display of color swirling down the drain.
8/15/2005
the game of Life
When I was young, I loved to play the Game of Life.
You picked out your car by your favorite color, put the pink or blue person in the car and spun the wheel. Simple enough...
We used to cheat at the beginning, when spinning for professions: teacher, lawyer, doctor, to be sure you were the one who made the most money. Then you got married. When playing the game you knew where all the pitfalls were, what you needed to spin to land on the spaces that would mean more money, children, house, better insurance policies, etc.
It was all just a game, anyway. It didn't mean anything.
And then there was The Day of Reconnecing--where you had to give your kids to the poor farm, sell your stocks and bonds, and see who would move into the millionaire's quarters. We hardly ever made it that far in the game without a fight, but the times we did, it seemed so simple. I never understood the selling your kids part, after all, wasn't that a good part of living?
Now here I am, with the lowest paid job in the game, enormous loans to pay off, divorced with very little bonus or inheritance, about to lose my child and file for bankrupcy at age 35. I think they need to change the game to make it more realistic.
Back then Life was fun; now the last thing I want to be is-- Living the game of Life.
You picked out your car by your favorite color, put the pink or blue person in the car and spun the wheel. Simple enough...
We used to cheat at the beginning, when spinning for professions: teacher, lawyer, doctor, to be sure you were the one who made the most money. Then you got married. When playing the game you knew where all the pitfalls were, what you needed to spin to land on the spaces that would mean more money, children, house, better insurance policies, etc.
It was all just a game, anyway. It didn't mean anything.
And then there was The Day of Reconnecing--where you had to give your kids to the poor farm, sell your stocks and bonds, and see who would move into the millionaire's quarters. We hardly ever made it that far in the game without a fight, but the times we did, it seemed so simple. I never understood the selling your kids part, after all, wasn't that a good part of living?
Now here I am, with the lowest paid job in the game, enormous loans to pay off, divorced with very little bonus or inheritance, about to lose my child and file for bankrupcy at age 35. I think they need to change the game to make it more realistic.
Back then Life was fun; now the last thing I want to be is-- Living the game of Life.
8/13/2005
Not a good head space for the past few days, no.
Is this some cruel, sick joke? I just want to know when all the shit ends and the living starts again.
watching confessions of a dangerous mind again. last night it was happiness again. both great movies. here's a reminder:
CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND
a screenplay by
Charlie Kaufman
INSTRUCTOR #1
There are several efficient methods of
killing a man, were you to find yourself
without a weapon. The edge of your hand
against the adversary's Adam's apple.
(demonstrates on mannequin)
This will crush the windpipe causing
strangulation and death.
The students take notes.
INSTRUCTOR #1 (CONT'D)
Boxing your adversary's ears with proper
force will cause his ear drums to burst
and possibly result in bleeding in the
brain. And death.
EXT. BARRACKS - NIGHT
It's dark. Byrd sits on a step, smoking a cigarette. Barris
approaches.
BARRIS
You're training me to be a killer.
BYRD
See, Chuck, I knew you were fairly
bright.
BARRIS
I can't kill people. My future is in
television.
BYRD
Listen, you're thirty-two years old and
you've achieved nothing. Jesus Christ
was dead and alive again by thirty-three.
Better get cracking.
BARRIS
I have ideas for shows.
BYRD
Oh, good. Why don't you spend another
six months developing 'em while staring
out the window at mommy's house next to
poor dead Albert the dog.
Beautiful. fucking beautiful.
Is this some cruel, sick joke? I just want to know when all the shit ends and the living starts again.
watching confessions of a dangerous mind again. last night it was happiness again. both great movies. here's a reminder:
CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND
a screenplay by
Charlie Kaufman
INSTRUCTOR #1
There are several efficient methods of
killing a man, were you to find yourself
without a weapon. The edge of your hand
against the adversary's Adam's apple.
(demonstrates on mannequin)
This will crush the windpipe causing
strangulation and death.
The students take notes.
INSTRUCTOR #1 (CONT'D)
Boxing your adversary's ears with proper
force will cause his ear drums to burst
and possibly result in bleeding in the
brain. And death.
EXT. BARRACKS - NIGHT
It's dark. Byrd sits on a step, smoking a cigarette. Barris
approaches.
BARRIS
You're training me to be a killer.
BYRD
See, Chuck, I knew you were fairly
bright.
BARRIS
I can't kill people. My future is in
television.
BYRD
Listen, you're thirty-two years old and
you've achieved nothing. Jesus Christ
was dead and alive again by thirty-three.
Better get cracking.
BARRIS
I have ideas for shows.
BYRD
Oh, good. Why don't you spend another
six months developing 'em while staring
out the window at mommy's house next to
poor dead Albert the dog.
Beautiful. fucking beautiful.
8/09/2005
top 10 summer observations
10. Driving home tonight, I passed the well-lit baseball field next to my apartment complex. The moisture and humidity hung in the air. It smelled divine--and it was the perfect temperature too. I wanted to pull over and watch.
9. The ciacada's are in full sing, reminding me that school is just around the corner.
8. Walking solo down Kirkwood tonight--there hung a sliver of a moon and next to it a speck of a constilation--Venus perhaps? Lovely with the backdrop of bright blue.
7. Not only do I get to play great music on the radio (tomorrow), I also get to review as many new cds as I want. Dream job.
6. My daughter resting her head in my lap as I wash the shampoo from her curly blonde hair. The trust and vulnerability is overpowering. I miss feeling that way.
5. Seeing Bill-a traveling bandit--again. He travels from Cali to Bloomington and back. Last time I saw him was the summer solstice first at Tro-Ho, then at the Moaners concert. safe travels, Bill.
4. Unstructured time.
3. A friend to fill unstructred time.
2. Gossiping with the custodial staff.
1. Two more weeks of vacation.
9. The ciacada's are in full sing, reminding me that school is just around the corner.
8. Walking solo down Kirkwood tonight--there hung a sliver of a moon and next to it a speck of a constilation--Venus perhaps? Lovely with the backdrop of bright blue.
7. Not only do I get to play great music on the radio (tomorrow), I also get to review as many new cds as I want. Dream job.
6. My daughter resting her head in my lap as I wash the shampoo from her curly blonde hair. The trust and vulnerability is overpowering. I miss feeling that way.
5. Seeing Bill-a traveling bandit--again. He travels from Cali to Bloomington and back. Last time I saw him was the summer solstice first at Tro-Ho, then at the Moaners concert. safe travels, Bill.
4. Unstructured time.
3. A friend to fill unstructred time.
2. Gossiping with the custodial staff.
1. Two more weeks of vacation.
8/07/2005
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Prince of Denmark
I am sitting in the dark in my quiet apartment. The only sound is the lull of the dryer- the rains are coming, and I am waiting patiently to run naked in the parking lot until someone takes me away.
I endured the Springer Family reunion way up in Hoagland Indiana--8 miles from Ohio--somewhere on the endless stretch of highway 69. I counted the crosses along the roadway and decided while driving that most people probably took their lives out of the boredom that comes from driving this particular bit of asphalt. I also noticed after driving several undisturbed miles that the white lines down the center of the lane were crooked. I don't know how long I drove before realizing that I was driving 80 and, indeed, other cars were next to me.
I think part of the reason for the unaccounted for time on the road was due to being lost in thought. I was hurt by my father's thoughtless public remarks at the reunion--to which I came out of duty to the family name, not because I cared to speak to these people.
I also took my daughter, as it was my weekend, but also because I knew she would be the one people would like to see--not me.
As introductions were given, my father followed his elder brother, Neil. That is always difficult, as those two have the worst sibling rivalry I have ever seen--even at 67 and 65 years old--but after the torch was passed, my father proceeded to introduce his family, the 3 girls, all happily married, but Dan wasn't with us today. I smiled remembering my part playing the always pleasant, never challenging, lawyer's daughter, the anger seething--burning in my breast while the others continued proudly sharing their family joys to all, leaving the skeletons locked tightly away in the closet. The words became static--and I used the always present excuse of my daughter's potty training for my hasty exit out of the hall.
I was not sure I heard him correctly. After all, he was the one I finally called to break the news months ago. Mother would just cry and tell me to try harder.
I didn't confront him. Today was his birthday, and the thought of being put on trial was the last thing I needed before the long drive back with my 2-year old.
Upon arriving home and checking the always dreaded mailbox-- the bank decided to leave 10 overdue draft notices. I just bought toilet paper and kleenex--and won't be buying much more until my next check arrives. I am at a complete loss.
These past few chapters of my life wouldn't be so bad if I had something--anything going for me. But at this moment, I just can't see it. I am just trying to be true. How does one accomplish this without any allies?
Ahhh--the lightening is starting up. I am hoping I can catch one of those lovely strokes of heat and disappear from here today.
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Prince of Denmark
I am sitting in the dark in my quiet apartment. The only sound is the lull of the dryer- the rains are coming, and I am waiting patiently to run naked in the parking lot until someone takes me away.
I endured the Springer Family reunion way up in Hoagland Indiana--8 miles from Ohio--somewhere on the endless stretch of highway 69. I counted the crosses along the roadway and decided while driving that most people probably took their lives out of the boredom that comes from driving this particular bit of asphalt. I also noticed after driving several undisturbed miles that the white lines down the center of the lane were crooked. I don't know how long I drove before realizing that I was driving 80 and, indeed, other cars were next to me.
I think part of the reason for the unaccounted for time on the road was due to being lost in thought. I was hurt by my father's thoughtless public remarks at the reunion--to which I came out of duty to the family name, not because I cared to speak to these people.
I also took my daughter, as it was my weekend, but also because I knew she would be the one people would like to see--not me.
As introductions were given, my father followed his elder brother, Neil. That is always difficult, as those two have the worst sibling rivalry I have ever seen--even at 67 and 65 years old--but after the torch was passed, my father proceeded to introduce his family, the 3 girls, all happily married, but Dan wasn't with us today. I smiled remembering my part playing the always pleasant, never challenging, lawyer's daughter, the anger seething--burning in my breast while the others continued proudly sharing their family joys to all, leaving the skeletons locked tightly away in the closet. The words became static--and I used the always present excuse of my daughter's potty training for my hasty exit out of the hall.
I was not sure I heard him correctly. After all, he was the one I finally called to break the news months ago. Mother would just cry and tell me to try harder.
I didn't confront him. Today was his birthday, and the thought of being put on trial was the last thing I needed before the long drive back with my 2-year old.
Upon arriving home and checking the always dreaded mailbox-- the bank decided to leave 10 overdue draft notices. I just bought toilet paper and kleenex--and won't be buying much more until my next check arrives. I am at a complete loss.
These past few chapters of my life wouldn't be so bad if I had something--anything going for me. But at this moment, I just can't see it. I am just trying to be true. How does one accomplish this without any allies?
Ahhh--the lightening is starting up. I am hoping I can catch one of those lovely strokes of heat and disappear from here today.
8/03/2005
Breakage, whatever its cause, is the dark complement to the act of making; the one implies the other. The thing that is broken has particular authority over the act of change.
-L.Gluck
I sigh heavy today.
I have not felt like writing--for several reasons:
*the heaviness of the divorce has been painful and awful,
the emotions run the gammet and most days I am drained and lifeless.
*I feel uncomfortable writing candidly in this space now, for fear words will be found, read, passed on and somehow misinterpreted, or worse, used in a court of law. I am angry that people cannot be trusted, that they see others as weak, try to manipulate or use them when they appear to be in a vulnerable position or state.
*I have lost my sense of empowerment that has helped me get through tough times. I have drifted and need to regain my strength.
* I just killed an enormous wasplike creature. Threw one of my divorce books from four feet and killed it. Then got out the toilet bowl cleaner and doused it, just to make sure it was really dead. I am developing a serious phobia of bugs.
I have read several books cover to cover in the past three days. Feels ok to read--but the sadness takes its place and I cry again.
-L.Gluck
I sigh heavy today.
I have not felt like writing--for several reasons:
*the heaviness of the divorce has been painful and awful,
the emotions run the gammet and most days I am drained and lifeless.
*I feel uncomfortable writing candidly in this space now, for fear words will be found, read, passed on and somehow misinterpreted, or worse, used in a court of law. I am angry that people cannot be trusted, that they see others as weak, try to manipulate or use them when they appear to be in a vulnerable position or state.
*I have lost my sense of empowerment that has helped me get through tough times. I have drifted and need to regain my strength.
* I just killed an enormous wasplike creature. Threw one of my divorce books from four feet and killed it. Then got out the toilet bowl cleaner and doused it, just to make sure it was really dead. I am developing a serious phobia of bugs.
I have read several books cover to cover in the past three days. Feels ok to read--but the sadness takes its place and I cry again.
Breakage, whatever its cause, is the fark complement to the act
of making; the one implies the other. The thing that is broken has particular
authority over the act of change.
-L.Gluck
I sigh heavy today.
I have not felt like writing--for several reasons:
*the heaviness of the divorce has been painful and awful,
the emotions run the gammet and most days I am drained and lifeless.
*I feel uncomfortable writing candidly in this space now, for fear words will be found, read, passed on and somehow misinterpreted, or worse, used in a court of law. I am angry that people cannot be trusted, that they see others as weak, try to manipulate or use them when they appear to be in a vulnerable position or state.
*I have lost my sense of empowerment that has helped me get through tough times. I have drifted and need to regain my strength.
* I just killed an enormous wasplike creature. Threw one of my divorce books from four feet and killed it. Then got out the toilet bowl cleaner and doused it, just to make sure it was really dead. I am developing a serious phobia of bugs.
I have read several books cover to cover in the past three days. Feels ok to read--but the sadness takes its place and I cry again.
of making; the one implies the other. The thing that is broken has particular
authority over the act of change.
-L.Gluck
I sigh heavy today.
I have not felt like writing--for several reasons:
*the heaviness of the divorce has been painful and awful,
the emotions run the gammet and most days I am drained and lifeless.
*I feel uncomfortable writing candidly in this space now, for fear words will be found, read, passed on and somehow misinterpreted, or worse, used in a court of law. I am angry that people cannot be trusted, that they see others as weak, try to manipulate or use them when they appear to be in a vulnerable position or state.
*I have lost my sense of empowerment that has helped me get through tough times. I have drifted and need to regain my strength.
* I just killed an enormous wasplike creature. Threw one of my divorce books from four feet and killed it. Then got out the toilet bowl cleaner and doused it, just to make sure it was really dead. I am developing a serious phobia of bugs.
I have read several books cover to cover in the past three days. Feels ok to read--but the sadness takes its place and I cry again.
8/01/2005
Member of the Wedding
I used to love weddings. The pomp, the purity, the ritual.
Not this time. My first wedding alone, I went to my room before the music started.
Got home Sunday evening and while walking Kirkwood, I found THESE GUYS:
Matt and Nick Romya few students I have worked with in the theatre. Rogers and Rogers is the name of their band. I doubt you can see it, but Addison (snare drum) made a bass drum out of an old leather suitcase. Ahh, summer on Kirkwood.
7/29/2005
Chrome and Steel
all of a sudden
the girl of my dreams
she never asks
she always screams...
Into the sunset (3 shades of blue)
do you see her face
in a puddle at my feet
as i bend down
to kiss the street
and i'll come runnin' to her
and i'll come runnin' to her
Abe
her sleep is troubled
her face will twitch
she wakes up angry
and i'm bewitched
her smile is forced
she's always late
but she's not sorry
and i capitulate
and i'll come runnin' to her
and i'll come runnin' to her
charles c deam wilderness 
steve
all of a sudden
the girl of my dreams
she never asks
she always screams
the girl of my dreams
she never asks
she always screams...
Into the sunset (3 shades of blue)do you see her face
in a puddle at my feet
as i bend down
to kiss the street
and i'll come runnin' to her
and i'll come runnin' to her
Abe her sleep is troubled
her face will twitch
she wakes up angry
and i'm bewitched
her smile is forced
she's always late
but she's not sorry
and i capitulate
and i'll come runnin' to her
and i'll come runnin' to her
charles c deam wilderness steveall of a sudden
the girl of my dreams
she never asks
she always screams
7/26/2005
Indiana University through a 92 degree lense.
Photobucket was not cooperating tonight, so I had to download these one at a time. It took forever. I enjoyed walking through sections of campus today-even if it was so hot you could fry an egg...
The steam heat was rising, leaving a haze everywhere I went.
The rain and cooler temps are on their way. My wind chime is going wild outside, telling me it won't be long. I love when the wind changes, bringing on the electrical storms. From my apartment, I can watch it brewing. The spiders are skittering all along the cement--like crabs on the sandy beaches come high tide. They know it's coming. Did I mention I am terrified of spiders?
my favorite trees
The Bell Tower
Beta Well House
Inside Beta Well House
Maxwell Hall, 1851
tired bones
Two Roads diverged...
"fouse!"
me and my birks
Sycamore in Black and White
There were many more, but I just don't have the patience tonight to download them all. It was a glorious day to photograph! Which are your favs? Enjoy.
The steam heat was rising, leaving a haze everywhere I went.
The rain and cooler temps are on their way. My wind chime is going wild outside, telling me it won't be long. I love when the wind changes, bringing on the electrical storms. From my apartment, I can watch it brewing. The spiders are skittering all along the cement--like crabs on the sandy beaches come high tide. They know it's coming. Did I mention I am terrified of spiders?
my favorite trees
The Bell Tower Beta Well House Inside Beta Well House Maxwell Hall, 1851 tired bones Two Roads diverged... "fouse!" me and my birks Sycamore in Black and WhiteThere were many more, but I just don't have the patience tonight to download them all. It was a glorious day to photograph! Which are your favs? Enjoy.
7/25/2005
2000 miles
He's gone,
2000 miles,
Is very far.
The snows falling down.
It's colder day by day.
I miss you.
The children were singing,
He'll be back at Christmas time.
Listened to that today in the studio and wept like a baby.
Along with one close to home, Back on the Chain Gang.
It is official. I am going to see Willie Nelson at the Vogue for $100 in about 3 weeks, so I will survive. Hopefully The Green Cards will open for him. Their Weather and Water release is nice. Very nice.
I also got the Campbell Brothers Can you feel it gospel-funk soul album and a special pirated copy of Old Crow Medicine Show from my friends at Tracks. Looking fwd to a listen.
I was reminded that school is starting in three weeks. Ha ha. That is funny. I laughed in the faces of both people who reminded me-- My dear friend Pat, who has to return to the school of doom as well as a phd candidate getting his degree in secondary education (schmarmy schmarmy blah blah blah..) I asked him if he had worked in pubic education. He had, in several states.
"So why did you decided to go into higher ed?" I asked.
"I didn't like the administration at any of the schools."
"Huh."
There were several other unmentionable dealbreakers in my very brief conversation with Mr. G, but good fodder for a short story, of that I am sure.
I urged him to return home quickly to work on his 'formal treatise' and not to commiserate with the likes of the the simple-minded--me.
How many more of these types of meetings must one encounter?
Just goes hand-in-hand with my personal soul journey, I guess.
Fortunately, there was wine and cheese-its awaiting me at home--and my laptop. ahhh--sanctuary!
2000 miles,
Is very far.
The snows falling down.
It's colder day by day.
I miss you.
The children were singing,
He'll be back at Christmas time.
Listened to that today in the studio and wept like a baby.
Along with one close to home, Back on the Chain Gang.
It is official. I am going to see Willie Nelson at the Vogue for $100 in about 3 weeks, so I will survive. Hopefully The Green Cards will open for him. Their Weather and Water release is nice. Very nice.
I also got the Campbell Brothers Can you feel it gospel-funk soul album and a special pirated copy of Old Crow Medicine Show from my friends at Tracks. Looking fwd to a listen.
I was reminded that school is starting in three weeks. Ha ha. That is funny. I laughed in the faces of both people who reminded me-- My dear friend Pat, who has to return to the school of doom as well as a phd candidate getting his degree in secondary education (schmarmy schmarmy blah blah blah..) I asked him if he had worked in pubic education. He had, in several states.
"So why did you decided to go into higher ed?" I asked.
"I didn't like the administration at any of the schools."
"Huh."
There were several other unmentionable dealbreakers in my very brief conversation with Mr. G, but good fodder for a short story, of that I am sure.
I urged him to return home quickly to work on his 'formal treatise' and not to commiserate with the likes of the the simple-minded--me.
How many more of these types of meetings must one encounter?
Just goes hand-in-hand with my personal soul journey, I guess.
Fortunately, there was wine and cheese-its awaiting me at home--and my laptop. ahhh--sanctuary!
7/23/2005
Bashio, and Sunday additions
Lead my pony
across this wide moor to where
the cuckoo sings
(Post- Silk Road thoughts on a 100 degree Sunday:)
I ordered carry out from a student whom I had a terrible run-in this spring (along with her intollerable mother) and was concerned that she would tamper with my order. I was even more concerned when the Turkish cook came outside to talk to me while my order was being assembled--she was the only other person in the air-condintionless place. The order was wrong--of course-- and I worry that what I ate will have me puking my guts out in a few hours. I still tipped her a dollar.
A few minutes later, since Cinemat was closed, I entered a mainstream videostore and was greeted by another old student. This one went way back. I don't know how I remembered his name as I must have taught him back in the early 90's. He was kind, polite and congenial; we shared talks of Tim Burton and other directors. I always worried about Bart and-- thankfully-- still see him on occasion around town. A sweet person-- the kind others prey upon.
Two very different transactions within minutes of each other. If we only knew what kind of impression we left on others. Perhaps we would act differently.
I played some songs for past friends on the radio. I know they didn't hear them, but did it anyway. I wish I understood how forgiveness worked-well, at least for other people. I unfortunately don't think it exists for many.
It's hard to be a friend from a distance. Show me the way.
I am half-way through City Of Lights by Lauren Belfer.
Have two movies for tonight: This So-Called Disaster and The Stepford Wives (remake).
I can't seem to make it through Sunday, still.
across this wide moor to where
the cuckoo sings
(Post- Silk Road thoughts on a 100 degree Sunday:)
I ordered carry out from a student whom I had a terrible run-in this spring (along with her intollerable mother) and was concerned that she would tamper with my order. I was even more concerned when the Turkish cook came outside to talk to me while my order was being assembled--she was the only other person in the air-condintionless place. The order was wrong--of course-- and I worry that what I ate will have me puking my guts out in a few hours. I still tipped her a dollar.
A few minutes later, since Cinemat was closed, I entered a mainstream videostore and was greeted by another old student. This one went way back. I don't know how I remembered his name as I must have taught him back in the early 90's. He was kind, polite and congenial; we shared talks of Tim Burton and other directors. I always worried about Bart and-- thankfully-- still see him on occasion around town. A sweet person-- the kind others prey upon.
Two very different transactions within minutes of each other. If we only knew what kind of impression we left on others. Perhaps we would act differently.
I played some songs for past friends on the radio. I know they didn't hear them, but did it anyway. I wish I understood how forgiveness worked-well, at least for other people. I unfortunately don't think it exists for many.
It's hard to be a friend from a distance. Show me the way.
I am half-way through City Of Lights by Lauren Belfer.
Have two movies for tonight: This So-Called Disaster and The Stepford Wives (remake).
I can't seem to make it through Sunday, still.
7/22/2005
Lilly's day out
mama and baby bear outside MCPL
a jiffy treat
One of my favorite things to do with my daughter is to take her walking down Kirkwood. We visit with the Bears, go to the library and her favorite part, get ice cream with sprinkles at Jiffy Treat.
Last Sunday (when these photos were taken) we stopped off at the Cinemat to return a video. The store was closed, as it was too early, but outside was Steve V (tall Steve) with two young boys. One was Japanese, the other Indian. Steve was teaching them to play Chess. Lilly and I joined the table (I have always wanted to learn chess). So there we were, under the shade of a large maple on a sweltering day in July. Steve, who appears to be English, the blonde-blue eyed German girls, a beautiful Indian boy with silky black hair, perfect olive skin and the most lovely brown eyes I have ever seen, and a young lad from Japan enjoying each other's company. It was a vivid memory for me.
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