Wednesday, December 28, 2011

things of the night

the loss shattered my sleepless mind, a new melody haunts the space between us awakening the heavy lidded eyes. happiness and sorrow blend into the wee hours of longing as i wrestle with my hearts desire for wrong and my mind's desire for right. the magnetic pull of absence and connection brews broken, fragmented thoughts in my weighted head. i catch myself contemplating things that are not of my make up and design. that chemical connection twists and burns inside.

the muse is calling...drenched in the echo of a thrashing dream i slink up off the heat of bed. stripped of all pretensions the cat like steps propel me towards the knocking door. haphazard sheet dress and wild haired, to your pleadings i fling open my hidden door. fires catch white hot and blue as the cataclysmic forces meet in creative combustions. after hours of painting wild erotic stories i fall into a dreamless sleep upon that same wrought iron bed.

he hovers like a bat above my bed...the vampiric ghost looking for a life to bleed. fool that i am i offer up my willing neck, willing to bleed my life for his parasitic survival. the ever expected role of a woman...give it all for the sake of a lover. i eat the crumbs from the table of life until there is nothing left for a mouse to survive. in that moment my wisdom takes over and i begin to break all these culturally constructed lies. if i allow the bites it's for my pleasure, not for your survival this time.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011


he took me away from the darkening days. some said that he was the devil enfleshed but all i could see was the lonely outsider looking for rest. madly we fell into to the heady perfume called love and sex. in a small span of time it was happiness sublime, never had i known a love so complete before. then he went away giving me a key to the secret door...quick kisses and a promise to avoid he door in which he gave me a key to. our love story ends with threats of my head on a platter and ending with his head on the plate instead of mine.

Friday, December 23, 2011

pin-ups, playboy bunnies, and what is sexy?

A few weeks ago I once again found myself at a special event that featured BRMC...gee I wonder how that happened.

What was most interesting to me was that Playboy was one of the event sponsors (it was put on by Playboy and Harley Davidson, for current military personnel...which according to Peter Hayes was the main reason BRMC was playing). Now one would think that being at a Playboy event would lead to very major shattering of any "normal" woman's self confidence or at least add some cracks. Especially for someone like me who has struggled a lot to see beauty in herself. I mean really like the porn (and basically any media industry) who can compete with those who have been CONSTRUCTed to fit an impossible ideal?

I mean very rarely are larger women seen as objects of desire or affection. I to date have only seen one film that showcased a sex scene with a woman over size ten, and it was an indie film! So going into the event I was assuming that I would just bliss out to one of my favorite bands and ignore the women who were dripping sex appeal. Because being the person I am when it comes to competition, especially in attracting men, I bow out early and fast.

So with all of this swirling in my mind I entered what is one of the hippest clubs in San Diego...only to get hit on with in about ten minutes by one of the guys who worked for Harley! Instead of feeling threatened by the Playboy girls, I felt bad for them because so many of them seemed to be less comfortable in their skin that I was. While I have a whole bag of issues when it comes to myself image and relationships, when I let go...I do let go. Because I didn't need the attention of anyone there I was able to just groove to the preshow music and of course BRMC. Actually truth be told I was getting rather ticked off at the guy who kept hitting on me during the concert...I mean really when I say this is one of my favorite bands please don't talk to me during their set!!!!

Over all besides the always wonderful experience of this band live, I walked away from that night feeling sexy, confidant, and wanting to hear the stories of the women there who worked for Playboy.

Since going to that show I have been rolling around the idea in my mind of what exactly is sexy and how do I want to express my sexuality? How do I continue becoming more comfortable in my own skin and being. As I've pondered this I find that I keep remembering moments and people who encouraged me in this adventure. I also have been looking at what I see as beautiful and sexy images...what looks or elements inspire me.

There seem to be so many; 50's pin up styles, burlesque, writing on the body and tattooing (the pillowbook is a film that greatly effected my view of the body as a canvas), the film Secretary, vivid colors and lush saturation of color....and the list goes on. I find that beauty and sexuality are more about confidence than anything else. The women (and men) I know who have the most powerful aura in any setting, are those with utter confidence in themselves or at least a deeply rooted sense of self. Many people can take on a "role" for a while but it is a powerful and world shifting stance to live fully into ones self. In the end I think that is what I find most appealing...confidence rooted in a solid sense of self...and that is what I am slowly in snail time developing.

Monday, December 19, 2011

heart films

Once again music starts the film of memories, those real and those remembered. Longing kicks in for whom I cannot have and aches stand guardian. Yet just as the frosty and perfect image begins to worm it's self around in my heart, the reality of the moment shatters the constructed illusion. I may love fiercely and strong but the you of this song will never be the one to woo this heart along. It can't be done the true reality shatters the constructed icon of hope and no amount of chemistry and passion will bridge the gap. It may happen that I fall down the rabbit hole but this time for warned Alice will bring her climbing gear.


As the days go by my world shifts by millimeters and inches. Nearly undetectable until I stand back from the ledge of months and see that I have scaled this impossible cliff. Dreams no longer seem so far fetched and antiquated as once imagined. The stars and moon are easily caressed with a reach of my nimble hand. Lady wisdom smiles down as time and promise rise up to shower the fairy dust of blessings. With one foot in front of the other visions are birthed and hopes come out screaming their existence. My heartaches with the happy afterglow of a morning after dancing the night away in joy and pleasure. Step by step the process , the journey leads to fragrant and lush fields beyond the current scope of vision. Smiles soak my face in anticipation of the wonder it will be.

Monday, December 05, 2011

soft lighting, sun rise

so much beauty that my heart wells and swoons. it's dearest and locked up desires offered in a feast of blessing. who knew that all you had to do was start jumping off cliffs and believing in flight for magic to appear? i feel like wendy sprinkled with fairy dust bobbling and weaving through the air thrilled by the soft touch of clouds. in the cool winter of long nights and short days i find a summer sun kissing my spiritual eye. suddenly everything is vividly technicolor and hollywood soft. thank you for the impossible possibility of it all.

Sunday, December 04, 2011


He haunts my dreams. Entering and then backing away on dates and times unknown. A foolish connection of unmet desire. I looked in your eyes hoping for fire. The passion was gone, left on the stage and I stood there and cried, hoping for rain. My hands type words that I wish I could say. I'm desperate to fill up your heart with the truth of a hope more solid than I even know. Everything in the dusky days feels like the daytime fantasies of a small child, creating stories in her head because the reality is to hard to deal with. On certain days I wonder about his ability to dreamwalk and see that which is so rarely that why he comes in and out, with the evasiveness of spirits and dreams? Dreamcatchers, feathers, spirits and Christ...the tokens of entry into a holistic life they sit on a shelf and gather dust as of late. Maybe someday they will carry a bit more weight. This spirit or being is like a vinyl record playing in the other room...the nostalgia for things past and things yet to come.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


now is the itching time when my tiny heart craves a chaos that allows it to disassociate from the chaos inside. i want to run wild and naked through dark alley streets, "go out and embarrass my self by getting drunk and falling down in the street", hop on the back of a strangers bike to follow the need for a hit and search for something real in the arms of another being.  everything is filled with angsty need. all the unified cells of my being scream "DO SOMETHING NOW".  Sunset Blvd and Hollywood call, the night view of her lady of the angels from Griffith's high seat and the late night creations of a studio by the river. smoke fills up my mouth and lungs, wine down my parched throat, here i sit hoping that these elements will offer a mediation between the tangible and the spiritual. i need connection and music and love and creation...i want to feel alive again.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Legion has stuck it's claws deep into your heart taking the place of light and filling your eyes with dark. Like a shifting storm on the Galilean sea, the army takes hold and you cease to be. I've see those moments of beauty where your truest heart shines but the clouds soon cover over and the storms fill your windowed eyes. Slicing your wrists and your invisible dreams you seek for destruction of goodness with the call of a drink or two or three. Yours is a slow and meandering death. My heart-breaks and I wonder if you'll be able to break your fetters and rise again. That humanity still lingers deeply hidden inside, Gollum torn between desire for life and desire for the ring. Redemption standing waiting listening for the call only to receive prayers followed by the fuck you at the end of the latest close call. Under no delusions I hide in the boat well aware that salvation is not part of my scope, love it runs deep but must stand back afar for the many has you deep in it's reigns and that's a game I just can't play.

(inspired by mark 5:2-13)


Everywhere around me there is hurt and pain, oppression and destruction of life. So many mouths to feed, hearts to mend and shelters to meager offerings feel just that meager and ineffectual against a tidal wave of injustice and crookery. And it's not just "those people" over there, I hold the keys to life or death for myself and others in each choice and step and breath. Do I hold my comfort, and let another suffer that lack, to I hold my darkness to afraid to act? I want what I want but at what cost? Does my having mean your loss?

Do I give over my life like St Teresa of the lepers? Selling all I have, releasing all I desire and all I hold dear in the service of love and care? No? Then what shall I do, give what I have as meager as it is, trust that the gifts and the heart I have choose love over death will find a means to tell stories and offer tangible justice and hope and a friend.

My heart breaks, it's spilling tear come through the voice now dead on the radio. His calls for justice echo mine, as my voice echos his in space and time. I want to follow to see the changes to run into not away from the call of love. To sing "what's happen to you" to see the transformation of those so dear into the creative and bright beauties they were destined to be. Here in my room cold and late I hold on to the dreams and desires to create for myself for others for the needs of the hidden.

Monday, November 21, 2011

clear sight

i stand in a small little room facing dreams and that which destroys them. with each note and step forward i choose in the moment to trust and hold faith. slowly with practice and the late night encouragement of dear friends i believe in the gifts already at my disposal. it still floors me to stand here. my life is suddenly a space where the desires of my heart's hidden corners come to fruition before skeptical eyes. in beauty and grace i see the hope of a dawning new day.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

ghosts and restless tides

it's the madness and chaos of hormones and night that make me want to chuck everything out the window right now or burn it down, right? is it that sickening dread that sits like a dark and evil ghost at the end of my bed. the fears of pent up crisis crawling out of my mind and taking shape in the real world. sleep calls and comes but her draught isn't sweet. it's the stuff of haunting dreams and rude awakening on 333. the claustrophonic sense hovers as the grief weights down like a hard and cold rain...this can't all be mine this emotional baggage. who's sending me their bad juju, have i been mistaken for a angel of reckoning? the white queen of restoration unable to pull herself out of the shallow grave?

here the fairy godmothers are on strike and the genies distracted by union bartering...rumpelstiltskin's in the corner make bets faster than a bookie on the last fight of the night. he'll give you a loan but the price is always on the steep end of high. there is no magic wand or spell to make this go away. assaults and sorrow come through the overheard great words of advice, their truth is the knife just a bit too dull and tight. i guess it's that season of wintertide depression, the reminder of my need to hibernate and hide.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011


A gypsy heart with a timid soul, I was made to wander the world in the company of people. In their absence my mind plays tricks on me and my feeble heart fills up with lies. Hours filled in with mindless baking and television's talking heads. Nothing feels quite right...the color has been slightly bleached and nothing tastes as it should.  My essencial energy is drained, with all the wanton chaos that has taken to squatting in my body...through that building they enter the other two, heart and mind. These are not your cool social justice keep power from the man type squatter thoughts oh no! These bastards are ruckus teenager thoughts bent on  the destruction of something because it's not their own and there for not sacred. Demon beasts, armed to the teeth with years of self hatred and doubts they spew out emotion violence like it was the new hip style. After years of learning I know how this game is played...throwing kisses to the dog with promises of return. I run to the city armed with music, car keys, and a phone. Into her arms I move to be enveloped by people, by friends, and by life vivid and moving fast. To wash away the unrightness of being alone.

slug growth...

These are the days of slow steps, little inch-like movements across the floor. Each forward movement seems to be met with counter tension and balance, pulling back the way from which I came. The little budlings of hope are just breaking ground when the torrents begin to pummel. Tenaciously the weather each assault with determination. Life feels much like trying to pull something out of a contained tide at the just the right moment...snapping photo after photo trying to get that perfect smile or fling of the head where his hair catches air. While it seems like treadmill time, there is the slow movement of molasses, the ever so steady dropping of that damned leaking faucet. And someday, soon I'm sure, it will rush like a wild river an unstoppable flood. I will find my heart's creative path and fall in love...maybe just maybe even have babies. In those days I will miss the lazy pace of this time. The space and time filled endlessly with breath. A vast open book as yet unwritten and unread.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Visions of Christ....(NFTPL #60)

Both of my parents worked in the arts and theatre world. My mom triple majored in art, theatre, and dance in college (just realized where my over achiever education strain comes from) and my dad worked in radio, multimedia and the theatrical world. This being the case my brothers and I grew up surrounded with musical least half of the vinyl collection in our house was in that vein. Ian and I systematically would dance around the house to the opening of Jesus Christ Superstar and Switch on the Classics.

Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell are two of the defining musicals for my childhood, along with Company and Westside Story. In fact over the course of my childhood my mother directed and choreographed at least two productions of Godspell. These artistic expressions also have had an impact on how I view God and faith, I think in part they are responsible for my broad view of theology and artistic my conservative artistic household both of these were acceptable. Looking back it feels like such an oddity that they were so embraced because so many other things were not..."The Last Temptation of Christ" for example. Yet for whatever reason the musicals passed mustard and I soaked them up...especially the conflicts of the Mary Magdalene characters. In each musical the women have key transitional songs, "I don't know how to love him" and "Where are you going?" and it was these two songs which I kept coming back to. Not so much as an in love with Jesus because honestly that idea still for me is a bit skivey (a bit too much of the Jesus is my boyfriend mentality), but rather as the means for expressing my desire to be wanted and wanting another's love and all that come with that.

I also think that these two musical visions of Christ are what opened my eyes and heart to portrayals like "Jesus of Montreal", "Last Temptation of Christ", or even the Harry Potter series...the humanness of Christ became more evident to me through encountering these at a young age. I needed that a human God (Christ) rather than the all knowing all powerful dominating God which ran through my childhood. 

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

really no slavery....i beg to differ

this afternoon i was informed by the child i nanny for, that her teacher, (LA county school & wealthy neighbourhood) told her that there was no slavery in california! better yet that it wasn't slavery because people were aware of what was happening to them, in essence that they had chosen it so it couldn't be slavery. first of all my internal reaction was "what the fuck", i mean really this is totally a bullshit line of reasoning ie blame the victim. but what i told her was that in spite of everything on this one issue her teacher was very very very wrong. the reason this even came up was because, this child is very inquisitive always wanting to know where i am going after work and what i am doing. so the morning after the "not for sale campaign" event a few weeks ago she wanted to know all about the organization and why (beyond black rebel) i would want to go to an event like that. i told her a bit about the fact that on a daily basis there are women, men and children who are being sold into slavery or abused by other people and that is human trafficking. i even showed her slavery map and where close to her house on a map there have been documented cases of human trafficking. she wanted to know why this would happen to could it happen to someone, the same questions i find my self asking. i think in part she was impacted because in her class they are talking about slavery in the forming of the united states government. so while i am completely appalled that a teacher would say this i am so thankful for the chance to challenge a curious young mind on the reality of abuse.  it also reminds me, because of my reaction, how i need to get more and more involved in fights for justice, especially in the areas of marginalized women and children.

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

tension and neurosis

i seem to have this pesky habit of getting completely irrational and neurotic when something good presents it's self in my life. suddenly i doubt everything especially that good and think that everyone involved dislikes me and that i am capable of completely fucking everything up. i also get this over whelming desire to run far away in the other direction...because fear has gotten it's sticky fingers locked on my heart.

so with the flood of goodness that has show up over the last few months this has become a near present reality in my brain. after every positive experience or interaction i over analyze every comment and nuance and only see the negative or off moments. in the moment i can trust the truth of the situation but after that truth high tails it out of town leaving me with chaotic brain. so i battle for the truth, i tear my finger off the doubts and trust in the fact that i am not where i am based on my own merit. rather i am here because opportunity and doors opened and i was willing to walk through them. each moment is a battle of wills but so far neurosis has lost most of the battles and the tension has spurred me to keep moving forward.

Thursday, November 03, 2011

little by little with my small hands

how does the call of social justice, artistic expression, and faith weave together to create the tapestry of a life? each feels like it's call is all consuming, demanding everything...those higher up in one have the luxury of combinations but for me the poor graduate student with looming student loans the fusion seems impossible. there must be mentors and those further on the journey that can lend light and guidance...stand as fortifications and bulwarks when the terror sets in. that terror that eats at my mind when i am laying alone in the dark wondering how in the world i will be able to live and have space to create.

yet a marked heart cannot separate those things which call and scream of it's needs... those desires that i cannot escape. it's no ordinary life of houses, salaries, and new cars for may not be phds and educational institutions or tour buses and protest marches but my life will be something unique and binding.   today i was called by the earth, land, and social justice by the harm of not dealing with sexuality and embodiedness. i can't escape into a world where i turn a blind eye to slavery, the buying and selling of people, abusing the land and nature, physical violence and domestic abuse, and the harming that happens so often when people receive power. the rocks and ground cry out when the voices of people are silenced. the whole of creation screams because of the abusive harm happening every day.

i don't know much and it all seems so overwhelming, as it should says the wise old woman, yet little steps day by day bring about change. so i must trust in the opportunities and the process instead of allowing the weight of needs to stop my efforts as small as they maybe.

Sunday, October 30, 2011


Here's the link to the 2nd video project but first public video my best friend Shiloh and I produced, directed and created... Please watch it. And keep posted we will in the next few weeks be posting the first video...which was inspired by a Black Rebel Motorcycle Club song.

back again to the days of tremors

it breaks my heart to watch you suffer...not because of the twitches and the stuttering and the effects of this awful disease, but because of the emotional ravaging that comes. the post tremor fears and the deep held thoughts that seep out in you partial state. your strength and tenacity shine through as well as your humor. in the midst of an episode i say something stupid to make you laugh you come back with "i'd laugh if you would say something funny" which in turn leads to that much needed release. i hate and cherish these moments with you, hating the fact that you are experiencing them yet cherishing the beauty and grace in which you move through them.

disease and trauma, laughter and love these are the elements in which we construct each day. walking in valleys ripely filled with landmines and hand grenades ready to explode the call is to walk the path in trust of the ones who have gone before. i am constantly afraid of tripping the wires that lead to death where as you stride confidant in the way being made and the subtle adjustments to have as we go. my heart is filled with love for those i love in joy and suffering i ask for their restoration and life. 
once again i was standing in a room as harmonies and rhythmic sonnets swirled around my head like ether. there was fake blood on the floor, werewolves priests and mummies on's halloween weekend after all.  i felt like an alien come for observation, seeking to connect and understand that which is most intimate and absolutely foreign. the ruckus teenagers bounced and moshed and i wondered if i was like that years ago. totally into the music to the point where it's magic carried me beyond awareness of those i was around.  the speed at which guitarists strummed blew my mind and placed me in a odd surreal state...observation became my mo. my internal critic was in full assault so i stood my ground and let prayer and drum beats take me where i had to go...afloat in the mystery and beauty and symphonic waves kept me moving away from the deadly under tow.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

around the bend

in my future down a hidden hallway you sit. i don't know that face yet as i will know it then. then every curve and crease will be as known to me as my own hands. the details of your being etched forever on my mind and heart. today there are layers of others recent and past being packed away to make room. while i am the bearer of their tattooed impressions yours my dear will be the lasting one, the final cover for that glorious piece of art called love. your specter haunts and flows like mercury in the hand, moving away and coming back again. never quite visible, just sitting on the edge of my eye line. there are days when i do not believe i will ever open the door behind which you are hid, rather i will be left to the maybes and the heartbreaks and the compromising situations that never are right. so i ask for sleeping visions and bulwarks to hold and fortify my waiting. bring a glimpse of seer's insight in my unconscious seeing.

Sunday, October 23, 2011


this and that
here and there
Hope comes to me in slivers of image
craftily she rebuilds what has been broken
taking shattered dreams and creating a mosaic of epic portions.

often i do not see her swiftly moving hands 
then i am stopped in my tracks and have a vision of what is being created
the whole is beyond my ability to see but the bits of here and there 
form into artistry.

Love comes with her sweet caresses and her tender words
softly she whispers truths into the scars built from years of battling
with a light but firm touch she sheers off my dragon scales
and releases the human in me

these long held wounds are bound with fast acting potions
and songs that speak into being restoration of that which it seemed irrevocably destroyed
lazarus once again steps out of the tomb long since thought to be dead

as my work weary body longs for bed 
that landmine called my brain is suddenly cleared
no more wild and claustrophobic maze but a meditative labyrinth filled with contemplative peace

Saturday, October 22, 2011


this week we have been reading a book on forgiveness, giving and receiving for my ethics class. it's a great and beautiful book by miroslav volf. it has been one of those books coupled with a few other experience and interactions that have been shifting my perspective. as part of that shift i am actively trying to cultivate practices and habit that are rooted in developing some key character traits that i have wanted to have. yet this post is not about that per's about being offered and receiving unexpected gifts.

for example in class on thursday we had a quiz, for which because of being stuck in traffic i was left with three minutes to compose the essay. to which one, that one being me goes oh shit...well i guess i blew that one. yet that didn't happen because in part of this book we are reading. as an example of grace and gifting half of the quizzes were free passes, and since i was the last one to class that day the only quiz left was the free pass. what an incredible grace to be given a 100% when i had be stuck in traffic getting there and also had failed my previous quiz. and tonight i got an email saying that i am being given another special and unexpected and unmerited gift. unlike the quiz i feel the weight of unworthiness in this gift...this one feels totally and absolutely undeserved.

as i look over the experiences and opportunities i have been given this year i am completely amazed. it's like a wellspring of blessing and "holy shit" moments have flooded into my life. those secret desires of my hidden heart are being offered as gifts that are so normal it's weird. today was one of those days where the reality of my current life and path hit full force...driving around silverlake trying to sell some clothes and get food and show shiloh more of why i love this part of town, i kept having these "oh my...holy crap" smacks in the face. this beautiful crazy wild thing...which includes the more and more frequent driving home at the late hours of the evening wee hours of the my life and the most like the life i have wanted ever since i could remember.  this doesn't negate the badness or darkness but it is nice to see the light and the beauty and the gift of it all.

Friday, October 21, 2011

friends and lovers....

in another incarnation of your self you would have been a revival preacher.
tents and bible thumping and supernatural healing the whole pageantry of it all.
instead you are the shakespearean fool, who feels he's only yelling into the wind
you see truth through the slats of death and creativity
the pagan priest of heartache and sorrow who longs for joy and happiness,
even as you spit on it's vivid specters.
you play with words and ideas and images like i play with paint and paper.
carving them up to create something new, to express the in expressible.
these are gifts of wonder and delight, a healing balm of gilead
the giving and receiving well are core human pleasure and you are part of that magical economy.

she blows like the head winds wild and free
an anchored boat in the choppy sea.
the storms she has weathered with grace and beauty seem almost impossible for me to conceive.
even with a irish red temper she finds light and purpose and joy in the shadow.
laughter comes easily and the tenacity of pressing forward.
nothing seems impossible with her by your side.
she is the sea nymph and queen rolled into one sparking and vibrant watery lady

fragile angel with a strong spirit who delights in life
sweet and beautiful she still sees only the awkward child of her odd youth
with cigarette and music she shelters and buffers her self against the assaults of daily life
drum sets and guitars and microphones call to her rousing from a deep sleep
yet she doesn't know how talented and able she is to play in the world around her.
all the beautiful friends are giants to her jack...she lost the truth of that story a life time ago
slow she is waking to see that ingenuity and guts are the markers of success in these watery ventures.

the two mothers, one partnered one single
each seeking to mend broken knees and broken hearts
and all that comes with bringing life to another being
we speak in moments and slivers of time between work and bed
they must steal what is no given a moment to rest and be and clear the head
i stand ever in awe of them the unsung work and journey
of my two beautiful and strong friends

innocent as a dove and fierce as a snake she is a fairy creature
faith and love and beauty are markers of her touch
they are through the divine what she is defined by most
creativity pours out her pores like water, it is the air she can't help but breath
the jadedness has yet to fade her luster and light
she bounces like a monkey and loves with a whole hearted abandon

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

book lover

i am a book whore
i stumble over my self to fill this addition
bookstores, especially the used variety, are my own secret predilection
if entering into one of the purveyors peddling  words
i will be lost for days upon hours
the hit of dust and paper is so heady and over powering
why would one ever want to leave
there are friends to be had adventure to be up taken

perusing my shelves i wonder if i'll ever kick my habit again.
i am a book whore


Eyes filled with tears and sorrow, kisses and fingers offering the solace in pain. A familiar song echoing the heartache and joy of human connection. Theses are memories I hold from a hot and ancient summer eve. In that moment I would have given anything to heal the hurt and offer a space large enough for you to breath. Giving what I could, I held you hand tightly, kissed those huge tears as they rolled down you cheeks. It's funny the song never pulls at my mind like a film scene did tonight...for the hundred times I've heard it since that day I do not connect the song with those moments with you, rather the emotions I felt were captured in a celluloid still and cut at the wound I thought had been healed. Heavy was the weight of my loss and the absence of what I thought in those seconds we would become. It's a funny thing how art moves and resurfaces memories; for this one a song pierces the core for that one a film and this one a novel. Each is the vessel and conduit through which the heart has been explored and held.

Monday, October 17, 2011


bumbling i fumble for words, i like you so much that i fail to express that in verbal discourse.
it's all awkwardness and courtesies, and stupid repetitions.
why can't i convey in spoken language the depth of my being in response to the depth of yours.
this liking is all very innocent...just the i want to talk, drink wine, and listen to vinyl variety.
yet with you in front of me i loose all levels of cognitive ability.
i wish that i could say it more clearly in words and clear language...will you be my friend?

hotel bed

We, you and I, were to broken souls searching for a better half, a savior. For a few moments in time on a hotel bed we each thought we had found the solution. In my heart I knew better than that, the truth that an other's love is only a part and never the whole. I got lost in caring and in turn you got board with the reality of it all. Like a chip of a glacier, whatever it was between the two of us melted away. Foolishly I try to hold it together in my incomplete hands willing what is dead back to life. There are days when I want to roll back time like an ocean tide to start over again with the purity of renewed sand. I run circles of "if onlys" back and forth in my mind trying to find a way for it not to have landed on this out come. A romantic choose your own adventure, if you can just pick the right storyline and dialogue then we could be offered a better alternative ending. Yet I was always shit with those books forever falling to my death or getting bitten by the cobra. Ich liebe dich and knowing that often that isn't enough to keep a relationship going. Those moments were all that our relational cocktail was allotted, no more refills for it was last call. Salvation needs to come from another too much baggage too many holes to be filled.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

memory and transformation

Last night I had this profound flash back while listening to music and trying to study. Recently at my first trip to Amoeba Records (I know I have lived here way to long for this to be my first foray into this music mecca) I found two out of print records by Michael Been's band The Call. I remember mentioning to my Dad a few months ago about The Call and Michael because we were talking about BRMC. He said that the names were sounding similar but he couldn't recall off hand the band. Given my Dad's connections and history there is a possible that he and Michael crossed paths. What you also need to know for this story is that my Dad worked in multimedia production for most of life and that he paired music with the video or photographic slideshows he created. Growing up in the back of my childhood memories sit songs that he used for that I don't remember hearing outside of my Dad's studio. So back to last night, I'm sitting at my desk reading articles on my computer when a song of the Call's comes on startled me into paying attention to the music. It was "What's Happened to You". I couldn't visualize how I knew the song only that every fiber in my being knew it and knew that it was linked to my Dad. As my mind has mulled it over and over again as to why and how this is connected I realized that it might be the song he used for a Easter service at some large church in Portland, OR where I was raise, that featured video of my mom dancing. It seems like something that she would have created an incredible liturgical dance to...having the lovely cadence and rhythm that seems like Godspell or gospel chorus toned down a bit. An eighties version of Mumford and Sons' "Awake My Soul" that beautiful call to remember the transformation of life and restoration of the soul.

It's so funny I read those words and am hit in the face by my damned hopeful heart...all evening I have been wrestling again with doubt and faith, questioning my life and feeling so crushed by the weight of desire and fear. Yet even in that my words and thoughts are brought back to things that affect me, art that impacts little mustard seed of hope and heart of care that wants so badly for all those I love and care about to experience the freedom, love, joy and faith that I find so impossible to hold for longer than ephemeral spaces. That which I want to systematically run from and find in the arms of a lover and the creation of quality art. These battles I have which I believe others are capable of escaping...yet I am not? Maybe that's the memory, the point in my connection to the Call song...that while I can't see clearly I am still being changed, molded and shaped into something more. The scared and chaotic girl paralyzed and rot with insecurity is becoming a strong and bold woman who finds her space and lives wildly into that unfettered by the demonic voices of depression and failure.

Friday, October 14, 2011

a battle or a dance

like a see-saw my heart jumps back and forth over faith and desire. often they seem unable to sit together in the same space and then something comes shooting across the line like a spitfire. all ruckus and dust reminding me that what is impossible is often made possible. two elements which seem to be in conflict yet actually meet and fuse together like a unique pairing of metals in the welders fire. gifts of unexpected grace and opportunity are scattered across the dusty road of my life and yet if one doesn't appear or i have to stop for a breath the tension rises and i feel my self waiting for the sky to fall. what little faith i have in trusting that this clay vessel of a life is meant for goodness. that whatever is in charge of the whole of creation, God as God is, desires all for the glory. that which is and always was and always will be, intimately entangled in our bug-like lives. if so then desire and faith two sides to my warring heart not in battle but rather dancing together trying to figure out how to lead. a choreography day by day following the movements of my love and need.

Saturday, October 08, 2011

dark clouded days

over days and weeks in and out of seasons i ride the perpetual wave of depression. there are days that are flooded with grey clouds and confusion and others where the rays of sun make everything seem golden. it's a terrible ride that i want so badly to get off of most days. for much of my life situations were so clouded that i never realized how bad the depression i suffer from is, then i moved last year to southern california and my vision changed. the world has shifted and i was living in a place of light and possibility. being in a different environment open my eyes to the true reality of my malfunctioning brain and emotions.

i am so frustrated by my in ability to change this or get off this ride. more than anything i wish to find a balance to see more beauty in my self and my life than the darkness. i see light and beauty in all those around me yet because of the misfiring of my own damned brain, i cannot seem to see clearly in my own. 

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

clouded heart

dead animals scattered the road today, the first folded up like a a peaceful toy. as the grey clouds rolled in across los angeles my heart shifted to a rain-clouded state. words, emotions, and heartbreak broke forth like a cracked bottle of blue ink. pain welled up inside as i was shocked through with the real presence of a friend's reality. even the beauty of my fair city at night from a sacred hill could not starve off the growing despair and loneliness. i drove through streets and neighbourhood that usually make my heart sing with joy but tonight only exacerbated the longing as yet unfulfilled.

the losses mounted heavy war and the dark and demon voices threw sucker-punched attacks. for a fleeting moment through a screen door an image of my friend offered a respite from the brewing storm. with a backward glance i saw him studiously at work and it swelled the fickle organ with joy. but that quickly evaporated into smoke as the darken cloud cover returned for the night. the words of the preacher...meaningless, meaningless it is all chasing after the wind. sit in the deep corners of my mind being rolled back and forth and back again like a philosophical game of ball.  

Monday, September 26, 2011

desert dreams burnt and faded

in the clear sky and the wind blown street i left the restorative desert for home and the adventures that await. this weekend offered opportunity for rest and shifting perspectives. the rugged stillness of the dusty street in pioneertown was exactly what my heart needed to get ready for the mad dash of shooting and school and whatever else may come rushing in.

music is a conduit for many aspects of life in my world so the ability to listen to great music for the whole of a weekend in a strangely beautiful and rustic space was incredible. especially the chance to see the black ryder play again...they are one of the bands that i could watch for hours. the music transports me to such a happy and grounded space of mystery and creativity. there is something about watching people create that inspires one to continue their own creative process. the fluidity of this band (along with BRMC, the Weepies, Bon Iver, & a few others) always makes my heart ache to collaborate with others.

this upcoming week is a mad dash of school starting again, a music video shoot and both of my brothers and sister in law being here. it is monday morning and i already feel rushed and divided. as i sat in the bathroom at work filling up water balloons for two ten year old's to have a fight in the cool 73 degree and cloudy weather of los angeles i realized that i would rather be filling up balloons for a video shoot or being lackey on a film but also that the skills that apply for this position oddly translate to the field i really desire to work in.

over the last few days a possibility of moving into the video/film field has come about, the chance to be mentored and learn from a woman who's art i am always in awe of. if this happens i will be so incredibly happy! like others i know it's a hard thing to hold on to the step by step process of entering a vision that is yet to be fully seen. but that is part of the process in these things...hope in things unseen and faith in the visions and prophesies given.

Friday, September 23, 2011

now i know and knowing is half the battle (NFTPL #59)

over the last several months and days and weeks i have been in a process of trying to figure out what i am doing and what i want to be doing. i'm in school that's a given, especially since i don't want to be spending all this money and not get a degree out of the deal. when i originally moved down to los angeles and thought about school my goal was to get a phd and teach. yet because of several experiences and conversations as of late i realize more and more how much the phd track really isn't for me right now. what i want is to actually create things, not to just talk about art but really work in the music and film industries.

for much of my life i have felt like a child standing on the other side of a glass window watching as everyone else moves into life and being...and i'm stuck just watching and wanting to play. when the madness sets in that is still how i feel, that i will never get in the club house per say and rather will spend the rest of my days standing on the outside of life looking in. i have always felt like i am ages behind everyone else in the game and can't image getting close to catching up. as someone who is absolutely non competitive this fear or impression usually is what makes me walk away and the seeming impossibility of it all. yet if i don't want to waste my talents or life this cannot be my response. instead i need to grab the proverbial bull by the horns and hold on until i receive entrance and blessing into the places i feel calling and draw. i need to embrace and step into my wild bold side, the part of me that can walk in and take a room by storm inspiring and encouraging others to create greatness together. whatever has happened in the past be it two months ago or ten years no longer get's to define how i play in this moment here and now.  so i try my damnedest to step out into boldness and risk failure and f**king up for the chance to be successful, answer my heart's calling and trust that God is good. not such a bad thing all in all.

visions of the wilderness

a quick hour and a half drive on the 10 freeway leads to a rustically beautiful place called the desert. this is a place of coyotes, snakes, cactus, and westerns. it is a place that on first glance seems barren and empty yet is teeming with life and beauty. there is magic in this space, greatness has passed here before me and will once again come a calling.

sitting in the passenger seat i was privy to the haunting mountains of southern california where my aunt and uncle live, the sky pure blue filled with clouds and light, and the huge windmills that create natural energy and stand like guardians against the sky. it is a place where one can get lost in the vastness and nature, turn a corner and find God or a devil standing on a rock offering life or death. as i drank in the landscape images and stories rushed in my head. whole moving pictures aided by the soundtrack of a favored band.

for the last ten years or so i have been hearing stories about pioneertown. maybe it was counting crows talking about being here for a blues/blue grass festival, then graham parsons and his death in joshua tree, u2's album art, pappy & harriet's...and this constant desire to spend a weekend in the desert with musicians and artists  drinking wine and talking about the great questions of life. laughter, joy, creative expression and community of like minded people is always a wonderful dream for me. and now at least part of that dream awaits me this weekend. something incredible will come out of this experience i know.

in the midst of the darkness i will embrace light and beauty and creativity and *hopefully* meet new friends and connect with those already known. tonight i plan on drinking a bit, imbibing haunting and beautiful music and staring up into a star filled night sky!

Thursday, September 22, 2011

grey clouded days

Suffering from depression sucks. It comes and goes like tidal waves threatening each time to consume me. What is the worst part about it is that I can't pull myself out of the chaos. I know that it's missed brain fires and false illusions but in the moments the "bad voices" are so real and tangible. Where as the voices of goodness and encouragement are fleeting and ghost like entities.

While I do not become completely nonfunctional when the waves hit, depression slows down my momentum and leaves my head and heart and soul in such a space of shattered holding together that simple tasks seem to fill impossible weight. Caught in this state I often find myself begging God and the universe, wondering if I am even capable of joy and happiness. Would love, creating art, or the birth of a child really be a moment of life giving space or would it quickly become something filled with dread. More than anything in these times of dark shadowed Eeyore days I want to get out of the over thinking and the pain to run towards simplicity and joy. The goodness of life is often what seems so impossible on a cloud shadowed day. I know people who ooze with life and relish life, their sincere pleasure seeps out like a perfume and permeates the spaces they enter. Yet so far I have been unable to tap into that kind of grounding and sense of self.

I feel the need for something outside of myself to jolt the life back into me so that I can stop wasting time and get on with the life I have been given and live. Because living with a hovering cloud of darkness is just not the way I want to be. Maybe therapy, maybe drugs (legal ones of course), maybe just spending time each morning being thankful. I don't know the solution or the re-orientation just that I need one badly.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


Tonight I got to see Bon Iver play at the Gibson theatre. And it was incredible, artistically it was so lovely to watch a band create the layered and haunting sounds that fill the three albums. The bigger rendition of Blood Bank blew my mind and filled my head with powerful images. What was most impressive was watching how songs that were written and played by one person but filled with layer upon layer on an album could be recreated with such a solid sound by such talented multi-instrumentalist who also provided such perfect background harmonies. 

Yet beyond the just mesmerizing beauty of this performance and the chance to hang out with a friend, the most powerful aspect of the show for me was that it helped pull me out of the fog and chaos that has been filling my days as of late. For the last three days at least I have felt weighted down by doubts, insecurities, and seeming impossibilities. Randomly for no reason a wellspring of tears burst forth as I drove through Pasadena and Silverlake. My stupid brain has been in regret mode turning memories, people and dreams over and over and over again and then whipping my tender heart with them. It's been a brutal of things. So it was that mental space that I drove to meet up with friends to go to the concert this evening. Honestly I had a moment of contemplating whether or not I even wanted to go at all. It took a while to get there and get in because we had to wait for one of the people in our party to show up. Yet once the music started it began to shift the dark and cornered parts of me. As I looked at Justin Vernon on the stage, I was reminded of the state he was in when he wrote what would become the first Bon Iver album "For Emma, Forever ago" pretty much everything in his life was falling apart. And from that came beauty, creation and the chance to do what he loved. This reminder brought a sense of hope for me, in spite of how impossible and stupidly incompetent I feel these days and how much the dark voices scream failure I can move forward. There is something to all of this desire and seedlings of talent and the experiences I carry. Some how they will be worked into something beautiful and meaningful. I was not created to just stand on the sidelines and pine away at the store window. Rather God is working and moving and I need to take the steps in front of me and follow the path that leads to my heart.

Monday, September 19, 2011

always i search for the answers to questions i didn't dare speak. in the face of your current apathy they rise up along with the overwhelming desire to do something, anything to catch your attention again. this game of my childhood is no longer fun anymore...the searching and crawling and waiting for your damned light and grace to once again shadow my face and throw kernels of affection. those crumbs that are suppose to tide me over the long dry season of your absence. but like any trail of crumbs they fail to satisfy the aches, the needs and the ravenous hunger pains. i need, i want, i hope for something more. a career, a love, a space where i no longer have to prove my worthiness for the affection of another. but it all feels like the inarticulate tears that spring from my eyes today, the dull pain in my chest that i can't seem to understand or name. this tough and tender girl is feeling weighted down by so many treasured desires and wants that she can't name.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

musings (NFTPL # random insert)

the wild dogs are howling in the street outside my window. their mournful cries echo my quandary state. these happy days of celebration always send me into a tailspin of introspection. the desire to play princess seems so very foreign to me like a letter written in chinese. some part of my swissed cheesed brain knows that i should be able to read and decipher the text but for whatever reason nothing wants to play. weddings and babies and traditional life...the ability to have a relationship for longer than two months. these are simple things that seem utterly impossible in the day to day life i live.

wandering seeker, i never seem to feel satisfied. there is always something missing or need just beyond the horizon. there are moments when i wonder if my ever present wanderlust could ever be filled enough to not need another hit of the exciting and dramatically thrilling. even when still and present, i have a overwhelming sense of movement. exteriorlly i know i seem stable and grounded a rock rooted and weighted, yet there burns this steady white hot fire deep with in the core of my being. traveling, moving, exploring, always watchful for the new and the need to create more experience more become more know more. and the dogs are calling. they speak a language i have yet to understand. they call my animal heart to remember and trust and find what's true

markings and memories

words fail and i think of your fingers. the memories of ghosts flutter through my brain like the birds overhead. crows and images arrest my mind in a momentary pause, then comes the flood of things locked away for safe keeping. these little daydreams aren't much in the way of grand hopes more like little prayer papers being burned and sent up into the sky. art and coffee and the occasional cigarette help to turn my mind around. removing the traces of you by putting things back to where they belong helps too.

it impossible to escape any relationship unmarked. no matter how good or bad there is always a scar or tattoo left there for posterity sake. while one of my many "yous" has been gone for ages,  dates and phrases are inescapably seared into my sponge like head. with each face and heart i look for the one who is well shaped to my unique contours. a lover who will not get board (as many do) understanding the depths of my hidden light and darkness. the control freak and the wild hippy child that somehow comes together in one being. the earth goddess nature mamma who love to be pampered. the christian who is intrigued by myth and rituals and religions. the sceptic who can't help but believe. with each person i hope beyond hope that this one holds the glass slipper. that the fit will be right and true. until then i am stalked by the visions of lovers past and the hope of someone new.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

tears for a lost love

cloudy morning, overcast sky in the city of sunshine and glitter.
your perpetual heartbreak and sorrow flies across the invisible cords of binding and stabs my soft spot spaces. the ache that comes with the words of truth...i can't fix it for you none one can but you, they are painfully true. my deepest fear is that people keep feeding that darkness and ego bird buried inside your tender and barely held together heart. just enough bits so that you are sustained and don't have to face the darkness night of the soul or rather bright light of the day in your case. so you never venture out to the place of healing and life. sitting as spectator with my insignificant bottle of love i watch as your consorts continue to drag you down the pit of never to return with their flattered and blinded complementary lies. with each offering of love to quench your dire thirst i hope a truer deeper reality is revealed. but alas as appearing now i find my kernel of hope is misplaced and dreary. for you crave the highs and lows and self constructed pain and joy like an addict on the ride of his life. you need there to be so much vibrance these days to feel something to touch something that feels alive through the numbed out days that few if any can reach through. i dreamed a vision months ago on a long dark drive through the canyons....i was touching you, feeling your heart beat against my tender exploring hands, you kissed me and then frozen. nothing i could do would shake your statued state away. you were in an instant gone and tears flooded my gaze. that prophetic vision is what i pray to be ended each night and day. no longer should you be bound to the dark worm of yesterdays. 

Thursday, September 15, 2011

changeling children of addictions hold

chaos swirls around as the changelings run in and out of the room. simplicity and strait forwardness are missing in this equation. yes i like drama and excitement says lady alice but not this did i end up falling down this hole? does vibrance and creativity always have to be bound to a little bottle or a pill. i'm seeking adventures that don't have to be encased in the hazy of acid visions and terminal days. my heart is swilled and swirled with love and the thunder clouds threaten heartbreak in their cries. i don't want to loose the beauty just the hatred.

chasing white rabbits we all fall down a hole...some like humpty dumpty to never come back again. please don't become the shadowed one's, the friends we raise a glass to with shotgunned holes to stark and wide to ever truly be filled again. saint michael visites less and less and wide-eyed hope has taken a few arrows now. i want your creatured hearts to choose the good and not the needles darkened calling. we're all shattered bit's of beauty, flawed but chosen creations....there is nothing between you and restoration except for you, yourselves.

all these years it's been falling through the looking glass. standing outside as those i love wander into the cold-hearted arms of faithless lovers. we both want to see each other's face in the crowd for years to come...the children of a different cord. yet we must not be taken by the siren birds of death for that to be the way.

shameless self promotion

a quick note for those wanting our production company website or the interview with scott von ryper which i helped with...will actually write more soon.

production company=

interview= (you have to go down to older posts i think it is the fifth post down not entirely sure)

that's it for now unless you're a band that has children (or drunks or whomever who need a bit of help) that need to be watched and corralled on tour or you would like a music video/interview hit me up. i'm a great sherpa and have amassed a odd but helpful skill-set that could be very useful on the road.

that it for now!

* and very soon we should have the video we shot in march and the interview with one of the artists we are currently working with up online for people to see.

Monday, September 12, 2011

a few good things

here are some of my current favorite five, desert island, bunker what-have-you listings of books music and movies

*walking on water by madelenine l'engle- ever since the first time i read this book in college many years ago i try to re-read it at least once a year. i LOVE the way madelenine speaks to faith and art, valueing each in the integrity of themselves not trying to force one to serve the purposes of the other.

*2666 by roberto bolano~ my friend paul recommended this book after we had read david foster wallace's infinite jest over the summer for a reading group and i had attempted and gotten half way through thomas pychon's "gravity's rainbow". the book is three interlacing stories that all connect to a fictionalized version of juarez, mexico.

*animal dreams by barbara kingsolver~ i tried several years ago to read the posionwood bible and yet couldn't get through it at all. yet when i picked up this book two summers ago i was floored and enticed by the story. then i was delighted to find that it was on our book list last spring for my theology and lit class.

girl in landscape by jonathan lethem- i found lethem through the musician deb talan of the weepies....she had written a song based on his book "motherless in brooklyn" when i tried to get it from the seattle public library it was check out but this one wasn't. based in part on the story of the john wayne film "the searchers" this book blew my mind and i was caught. i really love everything i have read by this man with the exception of "as she climbed across the table". "gun, with occational music" is also a great read.

gonzo-which is stories and letters and people writing about their experiences with the late hunter thompson. while i don't agree with the way he died i really enjoy the man's writing and perspective on life. i feel like he had and integrity and hope which many other writers in this genre lacked.


*scott pilgrum vs the world~ it's funny, the cast is great and it's based on a graphic novel!

*shopgirl~ steve martin is incredible all around. i love the book and the film....enough said.

* blue valentine~ the utter heart ache of two people who cannot seem to connect after years together is horrific and beautifully constructed.

* the fall~ lee pace, great story telling, beautiful visuals and epic scope....i just say watch the movie already ok

*monsoon wedding/rachel getting married~ the vibrance of india/the northeast, realistic family dynamics and trying to sort through them, the chaos of weddings, the beauty of people coming together, and music and celebration


*the whole BRMC catalogue~ i can't get enough of this band, live studio whatever...i'm sold. their version of the true blood theme song is incredible...and live they are hands down the sexiest and most powerful band.

* the black ryder buy the ticket take the ride~ ever since i heard this album i have been mesmerized by the music of aimee nash and scott von ryper...i have gotten to see them play live a few times over the last eight months and am always in awe. in addition i got to help my friend iAN interview scott for the BRMC website and truly enjoyed the chance to chat about art and music with scott. support good music by the album. lastly even if you are totally antiwhistling listen to and watch the video for "sweet come down" scott has the sexiest whistle i have ever heard in my life!

*ryan adams~ heartbreaker and love is hell parts 1 & 2~ ryan adams is incredible...with the band whiskeytown he created beautiful music and as a solo artists he has continued to do so. both of these albums are filled with heart break and love. and his cover of oasis's wonderwall is my absolute favorite version of the song.

*the head and the heart~ this seattle band is wonderful and listening to this album reminds me so much of what i miss about that area. they are uniquely northwest sounding and lovely.

*tv on the radio~ dear science~ can't sing the praise of this band enough. there is so much diversity going on in their music.

so this is the briefest of lists more to come, i think, soon.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

memories of the past and thoughts for the future 9-11

 ten years ago today i woke up to a ringing phone. blurry eyed i stumbled to answer the voice on the other end. it was my roommate's mother who words were "tell erika her father (who worked in the pentagon at the time) is ok and we're at war" that was the start of another world shift. the internal fear and chaos that i had battled since childhood had seeped out of me and flooded my reality on a global scale. all the terrifying possibilities of war and death and instability were suddenly smacking me and the rest of the country in the face.

for months after i walked around the world like a trauma victim waiting for the next event of shattering proportions, the next shoe to drop from the sky. the world was falling apart...people did stupid things in response to the hatred and religious convictions that lead people hijack to those airplanes and crash them into building. soon we were told that the loss of "rights" and "freedoms" would be for our own good that it would protect us from those who sought harm. even in my chaotic and fearful state i realized the bullshit of that line of thinking. both my sliver of christian faith and my understanding of our nation said that neither was worth something without, love and openness towards the other. there is always a possibility of harm when one loves and offers shelter. freedom is always the risk that you will be harmed. yet to not live freely, to violate the privacy and lives of people in the name of a protection that cannot ever truly be given is foolish. that does not mean i think one should not be wise and be aware and cautious of things that seem like potential threats.

as i learned several years ago in abuse class the gift of fear is a great thing, our bodies and spirits are like the warning signals to our brains saying "no this man's a bastard get out now...or that dark alley will not be safe...or there is something wrong with this car don't get it in" through fear we are awaken to the reality that things are not what they seem. there is also a fear that paralyzes and bind which is not healthy. i recently hear courage described as the act of moving forward even when one is filled with fear (it was on an episode of what not to wear). fear can be a valuable tool if we allow it to be just that a tool. when looking at the world and people we should respond with caution but also openness.

this morning our pastor shared a dialogue with a muslim and talked about how it was important to look at places of commonality instead of difference. to build relationships and bridges because "religion" is institutions that seek to motivate via guilt and shame where as faith is the believe in God that seeks to care and build relationships with others. there is always a diversity of views held by those who follow each religious structure...and therefore we should engage with people to understand what they believe not just make blanket statements about a religion.

these last ten years have been filled with fear and wonder for many of us. the world shifted and we found that even though it was different from how we expected a life could be lived and created. no things are not the same as they were ten years ago. just like the shattering that happened to my family with my mother's car accident, the world and the united states experienced a shattering that changed the total direction in which it was going. what matters most is how we, my family & the united states, choose to engage with what has happened and live life. for some the choice is to look back only to not see the present to only hold a good memory of what was, for others it is the reminder of what is most sacred, and for others it is a reminder to live well with each day and choice one is given.

while i still hold the fear that came with that day and the events, looking back ten years later i see that fear can become courage and that is a wonderful and beautiful thing.

dreamy days

feeling antsy and restless these days. often i get overwhelmed with the desire to hop a plane and create some wild adventure for myself but i have obligations and commitments to fulfill. given the chance i would ride on a tour bus and do whatever was need to travel with a band and see the world from that unique level.  i stare at the half finished painting on my desk, the paint brushes and newly acquired pigments dreaming of new expressions of life. they keys of the computer call me to tell secrets and stories, releasing them into the netherworld of the interweb. my guitar and voice long for the fusion of singing with another in a room. the act of recording and creating music.

but i freeze up, i curl up in my bed and read stories of women seeking love and life. of the messiness of casual heartbreak and the drive that moves one beyond the monotony of the day to day. i live moment to moment and want a wild passion to take control. to fly on waves and surf on the clouds and dance with the angels in the presence of the evil and remain untouched by the darkness. so much of this life of mine has been a waiting, waiting to actually step into life. is sitting here in my room hot and cold covered in the half sided breeze of the airconditioning i wonder how this is vividness. i know i search for the mountain top instead of being content in the valley. i see the greener grass and don't always offer thanks for what i have been offered. yet i still want the dazzling and glittering life of self constructed daydreams. i want more wild nights and unexpected days.

the ocean calls longingly to me, sunset blvd echos her wanton call, the heart beat of the city stirs in my chest and i see a fellow traveler a partner in adventures.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

reading list

while i was reading through blogs tonight i figured i should do a few posts directing whomever is reading this one to other people who i greatly respect and love to read...these are just a few of the women. will do a few more but didn't want to overwhelm the three people who read my musings

Malia James ( this lady is wonderfully talented and i love what she offers artistically! plus i secretly want to shadow her on a film shoot or two.

Patrice Jackson ( lovely photographer!

Sarah Jurado ( this lovely band manager and photographer always reminds me of what i love and miss about the northwest and it's indie music scene...

Carson Ellis ( ~ i love the whimsical designs of this lady ever since i got her husband's first album ( the decemeberists)  and her ways of drawing out her son through offering space for him to artistically and uniquely interact with the world...

Shiloh Woodard ( my best friend and roommate...enough said!

a little story

she sat there wondering "did i matter, or was i a novelty...just a passing fancy"

she had been missing one for whom she never quiet knew where she stood. he seemed often both solid as a rock and fluid as the sea. her own past with men left her uncertain of his words and confused by his actions. yet such was the way of relationships she was learning, clarity was often just a passing fancy. in between him and now there had been a few others. men who made it obvious what they wanted and how they thought of her. these men also happened to be well uninteresting to her boring and unattractive. they certainly couldn't hold a candle to the man she didn't understand. his secrets and being were like a present or treasure that she couldn't help but search for...the others where a purely a place filler a means to release unmet tension from before. she hated that fact but it was a fact none the less. facts kept bubbling up to the surface of her self knowledge truths she had never known before. this man he seemed like a gateway, a gateway drug in ways, his presence in her life opened up whole worlds unexplored. no that wasn't right she has known these things it has just been ages and ages since they were solidly formed in her own life.

she sat with her heart listening to all the angles it feed her for a while and then came the epiphany "just let it and him be what they will be"

and the pondering and wrestling went back in the box for now.


the moon is almost full, pregnant in the end of her cycle. this is the time where emotions take over and through things all out of whack. you're on my mind's eye seared with full moons, wild nights, and music always music. the "you's" of my various loves and incarnations and haunting me tonight. they sit there in a row as i silently beg the greatness for a new more solid lover. i want but do not need another, i know how to be alone. but togetherness, relationships these are things that are harder for me to grasp. to actually know another person in more ways than one...allowing them to penetrate both body and soul. that my friend is a whole other matter. it seems like the impossible possibility, a mythical creature which is whispered to you by dear friends in cars late at night or dark vampericly lit bars, or over dinner and sisterly conversations. even when it has become a momentary reality it does not seem to feel real. i look at the brightly shot sky and dream of a day when the bed beside me will be filled with a person instead of discarded blankets and pillows is such an oddity now. but that is the way of these things what seems the a mirage suddenly one day is a oasis filled with cool waters.

Friday, September 09, 2011

self sight

so much of these days seems like a treasure hunt. bumbling around i keep searching for where i am called and how to get there. what i mean is that i am trying to figure out my skills and talents and experiences and where they all connect into a vocation. for someone with three degrees working on a fourth i often feel very stupid and very much like a complete failure. i realize in part it's because i can't see my own life as it is to others....unable to distinguish the forest from the trees. for example the final that i turned in a month ago and thought i totally failed, bullshitting most of what i wrote or pulling it out of think air, actually ended up being an "A" final exam. which means that i have a lack of sight when it comes to myself and my abilities, while those around me totally believe in my ability to do something i feel totally incapable of even beginning. 

so maybe this searching that i seem to be doing is less of an external things and more about having a new way of seeing myself. as someone once told me "you have all you need right here it's just your own self that limits it". here is the place where i turn around and change my way of seeing. i begin to open my vision and see myself in the mirrors of others.

Tuesday, September 06, 2011

wrestling with the covers

wrestling with thoughts and ideas and changes leads to rolling and tossing and turning...insomnia returns with the weight of to many things to do and i can't sleep. should be thankful that this is no longer a weekly or monthly occurrence or that at least these days i have the good sense to get up and be productive instead of laying there praying to God for sleep. so it's past 2am and here i sit listening to music and starting at a computer screen. while i pause a moment, two ideas cross my mind first lyrics from the song playing "it's a long, long way down" and second the realization that i moved beyond stuck. instead of stress i chose to get up to hit up contacts and move forward with current projects. with each step i take towards freedom and health i move forward out of the pits and holes i often feel lost in. alice may still follow the white rabbit but she has enough sense to have an escape route this time.

fear is conquered with each step towards what used to paralyze me in my tracks. if i am scare of success i need to keep moving toward desire instead of away from it. embrace the impossibility and believe that it is possible even though i can't see how. hop back on the bike and learn to blaze trails on a motorcycle, jump off cliff and out of planes, be open and trust in the talents and beauty which already are alive in this person.  as i type yawns take over, sleep comes back to play.....

chat leading to a good ass-kicking (NFTPL #58)

i love my dear best friend because she puts up with me in so many ways and is patient with my cycles of emotional chaos.  she also holds up mirrors for me when i am unable to see the reality of my life and reminds me that i am loved and talented.

tonight what started out as a conversation about life became a good kick in the ass for me. the result being that she challenged me to decide what i really want out of life, what i really want to do whether or not she is going down that same path. i am now left to figure out options; like changing programs and schools, getting a new job, working multiple jobs or staying where i am at...there are so many paths once again. well actually they are always there just sometimes it's harder to see them.

 here is a list of things that i do know: i love music especially live music, talking with people/interviewing people about their art, i love being a part of a community of artists who create and support each other, i like making film and the visual medium of images and stories, i love the visualization and emotive properties of film and music, i want to travel, i would love to tour with a band, i want to learn how to shoot film and take better pictures, i do not want to work at a church or any religious institution, i do want to work with artists, i do want to create...the list goes on and on.

so tonight i revel in the fact that i get to figure it all out, not on my own but with the support of people who love me. revel in the reality that i started three paintings today, i am working on two film projects currently, and looking back through my photos from the last year, i realize that i am capable of taking good photographs i just need to practice and learn more.

there are so many wonderful things already present in my life and so many wonderful things waiting to still be birthed. i don't know what the future holds but i do know that i don't want to waste any more time not doing what i love.

Sunday, September 04, 2011


big fat raindrops covering my windshield, the fresh scent of dirt and new rain, lightning streaks across the sky and drum like thunderclaps announcing presence. this was the wonder of tonight's showy spectacle in los angeles. it was the follow up to a pink and golden tinted sunset.

i drove into town with a friend. we sat on a corner of sunset blvd drank coffee, chocolate and talked of relationships and men. i watched the traffic go by peering with vested interest at each motorcycle. the sugar i had imbibed today began it's wormy destructive path, trying to take me out with shrapnel constructed of loss, loneliness and self doubt. the sweet seductions of earlier that day came back to bite me in the ass. so i drove home letting the fat and crystalline rain wash away all the destructiveness and pain. wash away the disappointment and missing that had feed the sugar fix.

the rainstorm was a means of memory, a reminder that i have choice and that my perception is not always what it appears to be. every so often i need to cut ties, to be cleaned of the destruction, to be told that i have tasted just a bit of the beauty which will be offered.

the curtains flutter and waft in the sent of the fall rains, i hold what i have and release what i cannot, placing my hands to my heart i offer up the desires and projects and relationships hidden there and ask for the impossible knowing that the asking is what matters and not the outcome.