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.

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?

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.

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?

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.

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

haiku

In the cicada's cry
No sign can foretell
How soon it must die.
- basho

it's back to school in Bloomington.
the streets are littered with broken chairs, mildew-laden couches and other unwanted items. I cannot believe the amount of stuff people accumulate in such a short period of time. How wasteful.

Got a few leads on some musicals for the winter. I am now shoving my entire fist in my mouth and kicking myself for promising to stage a full blown production in the Japanese style. Talk about torture.
So a 40's style-zoot-suit Mikado is one option. Think the kids will dig it.
I've been coming to school now for several days and it feels ok. Well, as long as I stay in the room. But it feels warm and cozy. I can stay another year.

Did some other ground work type stuff today--I am definitely on the upswing.
I was given Emma Lou Harris' Wrecking Ball yesterday and just can't turn it off. Good lyrics, good melodies. Haunting. The kind of CD that gets under your skin and you know she has been there.

I have also been listening to Wilco's Ghost is Born more lately. His lyrics are so poetic. I hated the album at first, but after a few listens it has grown on me. Want to pick up the Lilly's today for shits and giggles.

It's good to have C and D around. I think it will be an even exchange for all of u.

The stress is rising. I got a cold sore last night. That is always a good sign. I was walking downtown and I ran into a close friend and parent of my favorite student, B-Carl. We are both crazies. He said I looked terrible but so did he. Our stars move in similar alignment.

gatsby's pool come fall

F. Scott Fitzgerald was a distracted writer. Zelda did a number on him, but it was her passion and insanity that helped to create the characters in most of his novels.
the fall of the year is fast approaching. i can always tell; the cicadas, the scent in the air, morning sky light, chilly evenings and the faint smell of woodsmoke outside.
the final scene of great gatsy comes to mind--the one when gatsby lay on the float before the shot was fired. summer ending feels like that to me.

while walking a trail this weekend with mac, carolyn and dave, the signs were everywhere. new lovers walking and talking, using private sayings and songs. I guess i overromaticize the season--thinking that romantic love does exist besides in movies and that a richard gere type will come in to work and carry me away from this. the fall.
Instead of starting any new relationships during the fall, it seems like most of them ended once the summer sun set.

my personal travel map..

create your own visited country map

His idea of foreplay

She was usually attentive, observant, unobtrusive and silent. But when provoked, the rage flew through her teeth like tiny shards of glass. The following was rage:

She could talk music for hours the same way men yammered off the records of pro-football players or baseball big-leaguers. It was a comfort for her; one of the few things that made complete sense. She was never one to remember a joke--or would fumble through it and with the build-up would forget the punchline.

The talk of music began in the car headed home from a local bar. Her body was tense but her tongue loose from the booze; regardless, he made her uncomfortable. She felt a bit of control driving her car. He often pushed her buttons until she went to the edge. Today was no exception. Accusing her of being a music snob, she exploded in a fit of rage. She stopped the car in the middle of a highly-traveled two way street in town.

"Get out of my car, GET OUT!" She narrowed her eyes as if to see him through a filter. Had she a pistol in the glove compartment, it would be out like a shot. Through the rear view she could see an on-coming car. She waived it through.
"No! Drive! Drive the fucking car! Drive!"

He tried to reach across the wheel and she slapped his hands away. She knew he was much stronger and with the liquor he had a tendency to be rough with her. She hated him.

"Get out of my fucking car!" She repeated. She remembered a time coming home in a cab with him when she jumped from the passenger side while it was still moving to escape his threats. There was hell to pay later that night. She knew it would be the same tonight if she wasn't careful.

Knowing that it was a battle of wills at this point she would not back down. Her voice was shrill and the anger seeped out of her. The pile-up of cars behind forced her to pull off onto the shoulder where the argument continued.
"We're going to have this out now," he threatened, "now drive home!"

"You are mean! You are just like your father--just like you said you never would be!" He blurted as if scoring a point. He was on a roll to break her,

"You hate people. You are mean to your daughter, to everyone. No wonder you have no friends!"

The words were cruel; he knew they would cut to her soul. She used to cry--but there was no emotion anymore--no tears. She knew exactly what he was doing. She stood silent, arms crossed over her breasts, defensive. She was already gone.
"You are going to give her a complex! Just like you!"

Images of Mommy Dearest flashed through her mind. The year before a colleague was poking fun at her by dressing up as Mommy for Halloween. Metal hanger in tow. She heard about it the next week at work from someone who attended the party. Her life was a broken record.

Her defense mechanism, a complete disconnection, was triggered. She learned this early on--first at home with her father and then later with most of men in her life. They never fought fair. As his rant continued she went deep inside herself to escape even if only for a moment. She used to sing songs to herself while the tirades went on. She remembered a first argument with a man she was in love with screamed at her when she asked him why he put empty ice cube trays back in the freezer.

She came to when he lumbered past her to the kitchen. He pulled another beer from her icebox and gyrated his groin in front of her like some primitive animal. She was repulsed.
"So...do you wanna have sex with me?" he slurred.
You have got to be kidding.
You have got to be kidding me.

Sea air influence

The sea tide rolling in is a deep, dark blue--the same as the rims lining the inside of my eyes. Above, the sky mirroring my own, I see the center of my iris. If you would fly straight up thousands of miles and look down, it would be as if you were looking right through me.

I stepped out onto the sand--cool, soft, white dry. A few steps more and I met the hard, wet, putty that pains the arches like the wounds of an old lover.

Been reading Greene's Heart of the Matter and feel the sweet voice of him in the text...finding friendship, then love which always turns to pity. It's a cold, heartless pattern. As I pass the toule covered cottages of the newly wed couples I want to cry out to them; to tell them what is in store. Ah, but they are different. Their love will last forever. Is it love or duty? I quote Greene, "If you are happy darling, I am happy."

I follow the trace of a stranger's prints along the beach, measuring mine in his. It is quite a bit longer, slender with an elvish big toe--pointy at the tip.
His stride is smaller than mine--then I look to my right and find another set of tracks--a female. Her foot, again a bit larger but more petite than his. the stride matches his.
I follow in her footsteps until we reach the well-manacured grass of the estate property. I feel my mind switch from the turbulent, unpredicitible sand and sea to the well-kept grass, the order of the trimmed bushes and putting greens.

daufuskie

I've been living the lush life since Tuesday-- there is something to be said of the female energies of island living that take the stress away.
i am spending the day at the spa tomorrow--facial, pedicure, manicure and massage also sauna, pool and hottub.
can't wait.

check it out at the main site:
http://www.daufuskieresort.com/

Today I took a dolphin tour around the neighboring islands and got myself a history lesson to boot. I have been thinking of proposing a library on the island (of which I will gladly man) where I could house books for the locals as well as children on the island. Was hoping to build a small house with wall to wall totami mats, paper doors and cedar structure but the cost of property is sky high. It doesn hurt to dream, does it?

Last night I met up with some old friends whom I met last year at Marshside Momma's (Mike and Edgar). Good times and southern hospitality. Last year we slugged down a bottle of champagne and talked shit. This year it was gumbo and vodka tonics.
Mike saved us a trip with a ride home in his rig...good to see people stay the same. It was wonderful (al biet short) to see them again.

So a few more days of r and r and I'll be ready to return to civilization. Something about the sun down here just bakes the bad karma outta me.

before I go...

I am leaving for Dafuskie in 2 hours. http://spas.about.com/library/weekly/aa081603.htm
I'm taking my banjo and my running shoes and that is about it.
Picked up two books for the trip: Alex Kerr's Dogs and Demons
and a book on the history of Spain, specifically background of Queen Isabella.

I'll be checking email daily, one of the perks of this resort--no cars, lots of beach and internet!