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?

"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.

c' est le....

A new look and a new way to look.









my posture, huh?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

somewhere in northern Indiana

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.

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.

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.

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 Romy

a 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.