in a manner of speaking

In a manner of speaking I just want to say
That I could never forget the way
You told me everything
By saying nothing
In a manner of speaking I don’t understand
How love in silence becomes reprimand
But the way I feel about you is beyond words
Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me nothing
Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me everything

In a manner of speaking Semantics won't do
In this life that we live we only make do
And the way that we feel might have to be sacrificed

So in a manner of speaking
I just want to say
That like you I should find a way
To tell you everything
By saying nothing
Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me nothing
Oh give me the words

(this part of the post was added after a glass of wine at one of my favorite restaurants in town..so I am feeling a little better.)

ON Sundays Bombay is closed, so I meander over to Shanti, where the servers greet me kindly and know what I want before I sit down. The smell on the street reminds me of the place I would visit when in London, just down the street from my flat. I hope everyone there is okay but Bayswater was not one of the tubes hit...still, King's Crossing was a big one for me...


"Where is your little one?" someone usually asks, since Lilly is now to the point where sitting quietly with me is rare..

I drove home (I was crying) and entered my complex to see two sets of rainbows and a hot air balloon's silouette north of here. It made all my furrowed brow stuff disappear.

Besides, I have The Life Aquatic with Steve Zisso to keep me company.
Also, just saw The Station Agent, and was reminded of an old friend(but he would not call me his friend) who not only looks-- but acts like Finbar. It was a good movie.

Ok, back to the angst-ridden blog of earlier..



"So, what dujewdo this weekend," he asked, trying to be all cool and swanky. It wasn't working for me. I held my daughter's hand. I looked at him, head cocked to one side, as if he didn't know my reply.

"Give me a single latte to go, please," avoiding the question. Avoiding him all together. He knew better than to ask. I stopped looking in his eyes. I usually wear my sunglasses upon entering. I never linger more than a second. I rarely smile. I hate going in there now. (soma see and be seen..)


People seem to move so quickly and I am standing holding the door, wiping the dust from my eyes, picking up their trash, apologizing to the parents, patiently waiting my turn, calmly explaining the noise to the neighbors, giving all of myself, sharing with someone I thought was different than the rest, trusting, being vulnerable, being nice...blah blah blah, inside asking myself why I was such a sucker, hating everyone--every woman for being female, every man for being male. You would think someone would learn after years and years of the same old treatment and heartbreak. (me below..)

While cleaning up her coffee-making mess he was complimenting a young twenty-something girl on her looks only after 4 hours of sleep, I dragged my girl out of there to my car.
I wonder how I looked after 4 hours of sleep--different circumstances--not at all comparible. He will never understand that. Too bad--too bad all of you.

candids, and the blog of fire

Nice, huh? I think so. Stupid stuff from the dump-truck-and-police-force-brigade- parade here in Bloomington. Rumor has it Linton's was better--I mean, at least they had a band play. Sheesh. I wanted to take Lilly to see how she would respond.
My favorite comment came from a man in one of the colour photos. At one point (there were several) in the parade, people would emerge from their police cars, wagons, trucks, etc. and pass out hard candy to the crowd. The Republicans came through and this guy said to his grandkids, "Don't accept candy from Republicans--you don't know where it's been."
Classic.

This was my first holiday in the states since my daughter's birth. Usually I am out of country. Last summer Japan, two years ago it was the U.K., Prior to that, Germany and central Europe.

Lilly and I were home before 8p.m. after the Contra gathering and the best organically grown food in Bloomington, I closed the windows and doors so tightly that not even a firecracker could break the sound barrier. It was just another quiet night for us.

So if you ask me what I did for 4th of July? I'll say, " Was it the 4th? I must have missed it again." Or, "Sorry I am not practicing holidays of any kind this year. Too emotional." That usually shuts people up good and quick. Stupid thoughtless mid-western fuckers.

***

It always feels good to clean house on occasion. I did so tonight with my contact list. I like purging. It feels a lot like what I assume salvation must be. Joy and pain.

Someone put out their cigarette butt in my door knocker the other night. I am not sure what to think about that, but every morning I check the car for fresh key marks. I wonder how you can become someone's enemy without ever knowing them. Must be how the Iraq's feel about us...whose to say?

Going to bed uneasy. Tomorrow I find a new coffee shop to hang out....I can't deal with 22 yr old drama queens any more.
Funny what a young girl in a tightly fitted dress and her long brown tresses up in a messy bun can do to a man. (And this is the part where you remind me that all men are the same, but if I had on a tight dress 'he' would respond exactly the same way...well, perhaps if I were ten years younger and wearing a long, brunette wig...)

granola and soy milk: a list of misc.

The perfect combination, although a little on the sweet side.

I have been wrestling with what it means to be a friend and how a friend treats someone. I am sad that I cannot seem to find, keep or be a friend to anyone.

I saw Malcolm Daglish perform Friday night at Third Street. The smell of bug repellent was everywhere.

When passing a group of Kid city campers, I marvelled at the penertating odor of sunscreen and unwashed hair. You can smell it for miles. I smile everytime I pass them.

Finally got to see Fearless Freaks: The Flaming Lips last night. Brought back memories. I was impressed by the honesty that went into the documentary--especially with Steven's drug addiction. Wow.

I had my second radio show last Wednesday. I was ok. My music was good--but I sounded hollow. Next one is July 13.

I am bored with my music and am waiting for STARS: set yourself on fire and also Daniel Lanois Belladonna to arrive.

After watching our third movie in a row on my laptop, I turned to my friend Charles and said, "You know, you are the first person that has actually hung out with me in this apartment. Thanks."
He was sitting on my daughter's Little Tykes plastic chair. I was on her mini Elmo couch. It doesn't get any better than that.

Had eggs and toast with Crazy Jim Sunday. His conversation is like trying to figure out a riddle--this one was about Sandra Day O'Connor, the banking system, Thomas Jefferson vs. Hamilton and Burr, family and church-going, and a murderer who posed as a boy scout leader, dog catcher, criminal justice major and Christian. He was a Pisces. Somehow all of these things were related or connected in some way.

Motorcycle Steve was sharpening knives outside of Soma the other day. I found the activity strange but he seemed to be enjoying it. At one point he asked me to watch his stuff so he could put his clothes in the dryer. I sat, holding the bread knife in my hand while people walked by. I am sure it was a sight to behold.


I am skipping out on the traditional holiday picnic at the Springer's this year. It's the only time I get to eat mom's potato salad and play cards with the family.
Both sisters and their husbands will be there. When I declined mom's offer, she said," Well, we'll see you sometime." Sure thing.


Happy Birthday America.

I, BEING BORN A WOMAN


I, being born a woman and distressed
By all the needs and notions of my kind,
Am urged by your propinquity to find
Your person fair, and feel a certain zest
To bear your body's weight upon my breast:
So subtly is the fume of life designed,
To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind,
And leave me once again undone, possessed.
Think not for this, however, the poor treason
Of my stout blood against my staggering brain,
I shall remember you with love, or season
My scorn with pity, -- let me make it plain:
I find this frenzy insufficient reason
For conversation when we meet again.

For you, Blue

Strange and Great Things:

1. While riding my bike on a residential street, I saw someone had written
B-U- swastika-H

2. Daniel Lanois has a new album coming out July 12 and I have already heard it.

3. Concerts in the summertime.

4. Avacado, black olive, and peanut butter sandwiches.

5. Men with real jet black hair (not dyed).

6. early morning dew smell

7. Talking movies with tall steve and mike price at Cinemat

8. My first experience with contra-dancing (tonight).

9. Chilled dry white wines

10. radio radio!

from page 302

Just two lonely people who spent some time together for awhile.

Couldn't sleep tonight. So got up from the futon and decided to find the quote that had been tormenting me for the last week. I opened right to the page.
Funny, it seemed much more profound when I read it in context. I guess everything in life is.

I just pulled out the evil Kettle Chips. Sometimes, after eating a bowl of them, I have the same guilty feeling the next morning that I do when I have had a few too many drinks. Generally I never eat when I am worried about something, so hopefully this is a passing fancy.

Yes, lots on my mind as of late. I can see the end to discomfort and unhappiness just brimming above the horizon. I have savored the sweet taste of it. (I just emailed a friend and told him how my luck was similar to the Titanic.) Well I thought it was funny.

I hate waiting...

One for the night
One for the dark
Taste each other
For a moment, then goodbye
Hold her eyes
Share the same air
Oh lay it down
Oh lay it bare

"Merge, A Vessel, A Harbour"

mirror image

"Hey gorgeous, "he said in my general direction as I pushed my two year old past The Bakehouse.
"Don't talk to my child that way," was my playful reply, not expecting such a comment.
"Oh, she's cute too."
Thanks for making my Saturday, Steve.

Just a few thoughts, as I am beyond exhausted from keeping my girl for a week without relief.

1. I am looking for a quote from a recent book about how when two lonely people come together, they are simply filling a temporary void. I am trying to dismiss the 1,000,000,000,000 (yes, I am exaggerating) odd people in this summer town who actually meet and maintain a meaningful relationship-- after my brief, serendipitous meeting.

2. People who tell you to stop feeling sorry for yourself after you bare your soul to them. The only saving grace this time, is that she is my sister.

3. The Great Lake Swimmers was a wonderful set. The Moaners were great too. I would have taken Great Lake home with me, but he had a swanky girlfriend.

4. I should never post after 10 pm.

5. Everyone I know and love is traveling (some statewide) overseas right now. What would I give to be with them right now.

6. I have on clean underwear--that has to count for something.

my little jester (and sister becca)

So much happening in my world. Bon Voyage to Josh in Japan, Ann in Africa, Ben in Israel and Becky in DC. I just got a new camera (this photo is still the disposible camera.) Better shots to come....

ok, some new shots with the Nikon. What a difference!



raintree



hot summer howlin' with my babe abe




sweet protector



a grave man

"Flee Immorality" --2 posts in 2 days!

That was today's warning from the Church of Christ on Second Street.

I have been spending a lot of time talking to strangers or partial aquaintances over coffee. Men mostly. The age of these folks range from mid-30's to 50's. Fascinating. What people know. What people are willing to discuss on the street with a non-threating looking person like me. Sometimes they are embarrased about having to smoke. Sometimes they think they know more than me. Most times I could care less what they think, other times I am riveted-- always I am interested in how they present themselves.

I marvel at how one man is looking for perfection in a woman.. "a saint, with model beauty and a scientist's brain." And yet he fails to recognize his own shortcomings. And why would she pick up with you? I would love to ask, but I nod and smile, sip my latte and remind him to look in the mirror.

At this upscale bar I frequent I am often greeted by a caustic Marine. "Married twice-- none of 'em took," is how he puts it. He is an opinionated pig. He drinks Guiness. I love to banter with him, our voices occasionally raising too loud in heated discussion the barkeep looks at me as to say, "don't push his buttons--we don't need a scene." Ok Victor, we'll wrap it up for now.

Today was this guy I call "The Suit". Hails from Houston. Three cups of black coffee in less than an hour. Socially inept or just extremely uncomfortable in his skin. He doesn't get out much. Maybe I made him nervous. I am sure there's a story behind that one.

I am not interested in any of these men. I do enjoy sitting beside them as a pretty young lady breezes past to witness their animal reaction. I like to drink with them, to laugh with them, to fight with them, but would never go home with them.
Besides,
Michael Caine is more my speed (only 40 years younger, please.)
Seeking a modern day Michael Caine..smart, funny, hard-working, well-read, gentleman, insightful, musical, sensitive, passionate, earthy...does he exist in my world? I'll try Brown County today...

Bad Moon Arising

My sister being a faithful Wicca reminded me yesterday of the summer solstice today. "We are trying to get pregnant so meditate on that tonight."
She is approaching 40 this Thanksgiving. Another child would be a blessing (and first child) for her and relief for me, the black sheep with the most fertile loins, apparently.
I cringe every time there is a national (or Halmark) holiday because that means I am expected to attend family gatherings at the Springer home and endure the slow torture that comes from German-Lutheran guilt. It takes years away from my already fading life force, let me tell you.

So, all my blessings to you dear sis and beloved brother in law, may this pregnant cancer of a moon spew its solstice splendor your way. At least someone is getting some action, an how.

I am struggling. Yeah, really this time. Just can't beat it. Finished a book Friday. Started a new one Saturday--went to bed at 5:30 after watching Lost In Translation (again) trying to revisit my journey last year. Also a William H. Macy sleeper called The Wool Cap. I needed something to push off the boredom.

The radio has been good for me--but also reminding me of all the shows coming to town (The Moaners tomorrow, Great Lake Swimmers Wednesday) but this requires cash and a will to go-with no friends--lots of energy for me these days. It's that evil paradox--going crazy alone at home--going crazy alone out in public. Today I sat in a dusty booth for over an hour eyes glazed over, until the waitress asked with honest concern in her lilting voice, "Can I get you something, ma'am? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, how about a revolver?" ha ha. ( have also learned that if you don't put that ridiculous ;) face after a comment like that, people FREAK OUT. They think you are serious--like I would say that out LOUD-- It stupifies, honestly.)

I hate air-conditioning. But living by the highway I can't sleep with the sound of cars and ambulances and motorcycles and low riders and woofers and subwoofers booming all night. So 9:03p.m....
And then there is trying to decide whether Indiana should go with Chicago or the east coast?? Oh My God.

I gotta get out of here before it kills me.

"Abstain from Fornication"

read the cheap road sign outside a church near my apartment. I'll bet they had to look up fornication. I laugh every morning when I drive by to see what the new warning is. Makes me want to turn around and pull in the driveway, HELL YEAH!

Another billboard in town has a picture of an American soldier and his kids that reads, "Glad You are home Brett. Serving GOD and his country."
Stuff like that give Christians a bad name. Let's rub it in everyone's face a little more. Now that makes me want to run out and join the troops AND the church immediately.
*****

Pat pat pat pat, the steady sound of footfalls on cinder. It's quiet. I focus on breathing-filling the stomach full and deep. As I breathe, the sweet smell of pine blows past. Pat pat pat pat, breathe.
It's Sunday morning and all is glorious. Just me and the cinder. I love the rhythmic sound and the timing. After awhile muscle memory takes over and I drift off in my mind to different places.

I snap on the swim cap and create a suction with my ears. The goggles are always too tight, but it's a sacrifice to see clearly under the water. I love the harsh smell of chlorine on the skin and in the nostrils long after.
The first solo push from the wall underwater is refreshing. Silent. Calm.
Breathe out. A long glide underthe water, I smile, happy that I understand the technique and that I no longer have to think about it. I come up for air, the water gliding off my cap and hairless body, I resubmerge and feel the great power in my legs in the release. Soon the black arrow serves a gentle reminder of the end of the pool--I breathe once more and go into the flip turn, something that took years to master. Now with the long stretch of water before me, I am in my element.

Stumble Into Grace

Oh the stories I could tell
Sometimes I really hit my stride
We make our own heaven and our own hell
Tryin to get across to the other side
But everyday ends up the same
One step up two steps back
Like some old silent movie frame
Zoom in close then fade to black
Can you hear me now? can you hear me now?

I drove through the intersection without looking. No signal. No stopping. If a car was coming from the other direction, there would have been a collision. I just didn't have it in me to wait and I didn't care if there was bloodshed.

****

#1 She received the cell phone call while on the radio, making her debut. Her friend was twittering about all the single, successful men calling her to go out on dates, she held the phone at a distance. This friend's divorce had been much more public than her own. The two were complete opposites, and most likely the men who called her friend would not be remotely interested in her and vise-versa.
For radio's sake, she told her friend she was busy--her friend wanted to get together as so much had happened..starting a speed dating thing with a man, the most elligible bachelor in town wanted to get together. Her friend had a date last night with a cute financial planner. What about Pisces-Taurus? She hung up and looked at her friend Jim, shaking her head. Her heart just wasn't in that space yet.
He smiled, remembering his own experience with divorce.
"...that was Emmylou Harris' Can you Hear me Now off her Stumble Into Grace release. Before that, we heard... "

#2 She flipped through the rolidex in her mind: the cards contained distorted faces of the men she had once loved. On each card was a short description, a few adjectives to define them, how things ended, where they might be now.
Most of them were faded, ripped out, earmarked, tear-stained. A few had obscenities written on their haggard faces:
Married
Co-dependent
Too young
Too involved with job--not interested in a relationship (with me)
Too old
Abusive
Drunk
Unrequited

She thought of the years wasted on prooving herself to these men. Over and over,
she reviewed them and one thing was common for all of them:
They didn't or couldn't, shouldn't or wouldn't love her for who she was. To them, she was a mere tease, a distraction, a seduction, a fantasy, a nightmare, a disappointment,a complication, a rebound, a sacrifice, a stalker, a psycho, a waste of time. Funny--She now thought of them the very same way.

How did the load get to be so heavy
I used to wear my trouble like a crown
A bad flood's poundin' on the levee
And l'm gonna need some help
To hold my ground

#3 She was meeting a few of them at the pool. All of them had kids. She had very little in common with any of these women except they all worked in her department and were mothers.
All here married--happily,or so it seemed. She was suprised that they called her to tag along. While the other women sat together with their children between their legs--she and her daughter waded into the deeper end of the pool. Lilly liked to be in the middle of the action, not sitting along side watching it happen. Her mom was the same way.
Little did she know, it was lonley and unsatisfying being there. Lilly would find that out years later. She hauled Lilly, kicking and screaming, back to the other women and their children playing contently at their sides to try to fit in. Her smile was obviously fake.
As in all areas of her life, she felt trapped. Awkward and uncomfortable, she left shortly after-- promising Lilly the world when they arrived back home.

But I'm sinkin' like a stone
To where in solitude this life I'll spend
In the coldest place I've ever known
I'm here just waitin' until the end
I send up my S.O.S.
A message in a bottle set out to sea
It just reads soul in d istress
But nobody ever got back to me
Can you hear me now can you hear me now?

#4 She sat in soma most of the morning typing. She was often interrupted by friends and aquaintances alike--the regulars that made her day seem normal. She loved the energy in the place. She felt at ease. It was an oasis from the ugly realities that lurked outside. It was a sham but she didn't care.
He never came by.
She waited and waited but he never came.
She doesn't look up anymore.
She doesn't look back.
She doesn't feel anything.
She was relieved: he was gone for good.

"We arouse pity by cultivating the most repulsive wounds"

There are many things that I love about summer:
Eating raw vegetables straight out of the garden.
Coming inside to air-condition on a hot day, reeking of suntan lotion and sweat- bathing suit still wet. The smell of rain on hot pavement. Cold beer on a hot night. (do I smell a theme here?)
As I write this, the fan is blowing on my bathing-suit-backed-body and I am eating sweet peas, onions and cucumbers. Tomorrow I am picking strawberries with my sisters--dear God, I hope we don't kill each other. Delightful.

I am within pages of the end of Bullshit Night in Suck City and am anxiously awaiting my copy of Stones of Summer to arrive today via Amazon.com. The movie Stone Reader, although slow in places, reminded me why I like to read.

I applied for a part time job today (thanks to my smarty pants boys for the references)--went to check the place out and ended up walking out with a dozen or more assorted cds:
The Strokes
3 Emmylou Harris cds
Johnny Cash
Gillian Welch
The Postal Service
Let it Be--Beatles
Brian Wilson's Smile
Fleetwood Mac Live in Boston
David Bowie's Heathen
Bjork's Medulla
Elvis Costello's North, The Delivery Man and All this useless beauty

Plus, my own copy of Neko Case's Furnace Room Lullaby that should keep me busy for at least a few days. I am headed to the station to meet her in person, I think she is playing a few or at least doing an interview. I have about 15 minutes to kill, so I wanted to tell this story:

I have but one true friend in town. His name is Jim. I refer to him as Crazy Jim, or Cancer Jim. He is an old homeless man--a scientist and in my mind a sociologist. I started talking to Jim at length about three years ago, when escaping the house was my favorite pasttime. We generally talk at the local hangouts--soma or the spoon.
Last Thanksgiving I volunteered at the soup kitchen, and in came my toothless friend, all smiles and sarcasm.

What I love about Jim is how he tangents. I also love that he speaks the truth about people. Yesterday we discussed the term
Mammon
at length. We frequently talk about love, living conditions and The Man. It's hard to get a word in edgewise, but when the exchange happens, it reminds me that it's so nice to have a non-judgmental friend to buy you a cup of coffee every now and then..
I guess it makes Bullshit Night that much more meaningful to me.

Too bad perfect strangers become the best friends and people you have known for years end up strangers? One of life's mysteries--or miracles. Who's to say? I should make a list of true friends.

I just decided to skip Neko (sorry) and instead wait to see STARS next Sunday at Bluebird. A hot new band worth of a listen. Hopefully not as expensive too.

'Night you.