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.

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?

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.

"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?

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

"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

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.