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?
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