Friday, December 07, 2012

attempting to walk away

I lied to you, told a little fib...it was this, it didn't take days or weeks for me to like you...I like you was interested the moment I met you. But we ladies aren't suppose to want or admit our desire so something in me held back, truth be told again something in me still holds back. I knows or says it knows that you are not capable of being present with me, that you my dear are not here. But I ignore that voice to a point and keep barreling along breaking and hiding the tiny pieces of my heart, hoping for the movie ending instead of reality. The reality is that really for now at least this should end. I want to much and you have little to give...and that coupled with all the other chaos in your life, means it breaks you for us to be like this. Even as I hold you or you hold me that tenderness sears you deep. Your chaotic heart and mind can't process the love or whatever you call it that I could offer. Too raw is your untangling, too close to the source of it all. Do you know that I would split and do split myself for you, try as be as I can to be a harbor. Even still to your night-vision eyes my harbor looks as vast and consuming as the ocean. So this then should be set down. I should give up the fight and walk away. 

Saturday, November 17, 2012

the need and the failure to keep it in check mark my desperation. the cool calmness is a barely held mask and it breaks my heart every time i have to fake it. too much and not enough and never what was actually wanted, these cross sections of my shattered self ravage whatever is truly good. so it will forever be i am afraid. the empty bed, the empty heart, the gaping hole of me. so there we are you have seen only the tip of the iceberg and it's beauty and wonder just isn't enough. doesn't matter the why or the reason it's gone to bed for ever and ever again. there is no lover's kiss for this sleep beauty forever in a coma will she be. always looking from the outside in....

Thursday, October 25, 2012

sucker punches

My heart is cut with a swift knife.  The unintended image on the flickering screen in front of me viscerally draws a fast unmitigated reaction. I grieve for that which you are not even aware enough to sorrow over in yourself, so blinded by the warring factions which want to eat you whole. Is it my long healed broken heart that cries out or the prophetic voice which somehow sees you in a purer form?
This punch to the gut comes out of nowhere and leaves me so oft kilter that I have to unpack it's root and origin. I wonder if that matters, we are ages and miles and thoughts apart and yet hidden ties and tethers still hold us in loose connection. And so because I love you I am moved and hurt, for love whether the kind that leads to two people rolling around in the sheets or whether that of mother and child, requires suffering and sacrifice. For love costs because asks us to offer up part of ourselves. So I bare the ache and mark because love reigns and love wins...

Sunday, September 30, 2012

a broken thing...

i feel like a broken thing. a china doll that has been cracked deep within. seemingly so strong and yet so fragile. there are days when i feel as if maybe i can conquer the world and over come all the chaos that swirls around my brain...and then comes a day like today where even the smallest of tasks seems insurmountable. on these the dark days i sit stuck for hours with piles of work that i want so badly to do and can't. and those lovely things of life like friends, love, sex, art, music, and everything else that bring the vividness of technicolor to the day to day can also send this alice down the rabbit-hole. a missed called, a forgotten curtsey curtisey on the wrong day and the fragility of my mind get's shattered into a million little pieces of darker reality. i hate these demon days that rape my productivity and creative motivation. 

Monday, September 03, 2012

"I want you so much but I hate your guts" Daughter "Landfill"

this is the feeling after the first one walks away. disappearing into the sunset without so much as a wave. she stands there watching long after he has fallen away, wondering why they all leave quickly that way. i'm the common factor she says it must be me and racks her brain for that elusive and fleeting thing. the one that turns the heart on a dime and causes all men to walk out faster than a two-step time. like the mat that no one wishes her to be, she stands heart in a bowtie box ready to hand off if he were to return...something she know's will never be. still she wants him and hates him with each quickening heart beat.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Etiquette....how to not be a wanker

So let's all agree that dating for most people is a painful and arduous process. There are of course those who are exceptions to this rule, like my roommate or my best friend, but over all for most of us out here dating is filled with landmines and creepy people one is doing their absolute best to avoid...like the black plague.  This being said, every time one goes out with a new person (not the dude on the outer edges of your friend group or your friends little cousins but someone totally outside your connections) the hope is that at the end of this first meeting, the worst you get is free dinner or a drink and an interesting story to relay and captivate friends and family.At best, and believe me it can happen, you come home glowing after a night with someone whom you totally connected with on various levels. And who you may or may not have spent several wee hours of the dawn with on a street corner in Koreatown, sitting on the trunk of your car making out. Following this magical best outcome, are the follow up date or two or three or five. And you know they are all equally lovely and mind blowingly good, and that is when you begin to think to your self "self this is someone we could actually, you know, LIKE!"

 So there you are, with body and mind in sync having great encounters with a person who you are not only attracted to but is also someone you can  talk with for hours and then it happens...BAM! The world shifts suddenly and that wonderful person you have been enjoying so and connecting with disappears without a trace. Like suddenly mid text to you the earth just opened up and Poof they are gone! You have just been ghosted!

Now being one to be affected by my perceptions of others possible reactions, I understand it sucks telling someone you aren't interested in them. And it also sucks being rejected, especially by someone you were interested in, but that is a quickly healed wound in the realm of dating and mating. What actually sucks the most is to just be dropped and ignored with no courteous  "hey I'm not interested in seeing you or I can't date you anymore." I mean really people, how hard is it to avoid being a total ass and just give a girl(or a dude or how ever you identify) a clear indication that you are ducking out of the process. I'm sure there are humans out there who will freak out on you threatening to cut of the royal jewels or something but honestly most (almost all) people would rather have the respect of some at least letting you know they are done, opposed to suddenly going radio silence. Being rejected sucks and rejecting someone sucks because even if you have good reason (like they kind of sort of forgot tell you they are married) it is still hard to tell someone you aren't interested in them. This is especially true if you are someone who has been on the receiving end of rejection and/or are empathetic. I firmly believe it is better to create closure than leave the other party in the dark wondering what happened to you, especially if you have been out on a date. The two minutes it takes to create closure for another person saves a world of chaos and heart ache. So to review don't be a wanker, be kind and tell the girl (boy, couple, whomever) thank you for a lovely time but I can't date you anymore. It will be a kind and interpretable move on your part and save the sane people you date some heartache and crazy time...if the person you are breaking up with is actually crazy you might want to think about hiring Mike Tyson for security and getting a restraining order or a can of mace. 

Sunday, August 19, 2012

my hunter

he is my hunter thompson, chuck bukowski and oscar wilde all roll up into the wild beast of the midwestern fields. my love for this passionate and outrageous one runs deep to the core of my being, the light and dark place where the sacred and profane play craps drinking absenthe from ancient bottles. while everything says it's impossible, we like oil and water combine, i still can't escape the pull of desire and passion combined. i want to ride free and loose myself on the back of his bike in a desert night. erase all the heart ache and pain with late night wrestling and drug saturated midnight love making. he's the kind who sits in a room typing clarity in seeming chaos saturated by a gallon of cheap booze and black label cigarettes, grumbling and i try to seduce him away from the muse laying half naked across a hotel bed.  the drugs and liquor and cigarettes are never as strong a medicine for my illing as his hands running up my thighs and his mouth saturating mine. the beast in him calls out the darker beast in me, in his presence she is finally allowed to be free. he comes rolling in and out with the tide and the wind and the rails, it's the only way this madlove can go. for we both know he'd slowly kill me if he stayed. as much as i need i must always have the freedom to walk away. 

Thursday, August 09, 2012

Fallow time

In the Old Testament one of the practical commands for Israel as a nation was to take time off for the ground to rest. Every seven years the people were commanded to leave the land fallow so that it could rest and be able to replenish it's self. If the ground was able to rest then not only would it yield crops on the other six years but the health of those crops would be plentiful and abundant.  The term for this year was Shmita.

This evening my brother and I were talking about art and artists. We got to talking about how there is something in the nature of music specifically that leads to burn out and possibly a space that stunts creativity. To often we want our music to be just the right brand of familiar and new, in asking this we are not willing as audience to allow these artists who we respect and admire the space to create and experiment.  There also seems to be a period of time in which, if a rest is not given, the artists are unable to create something dynamic and vibrant. In our environment of the hyper-real where tastes and who's on top shifts moment to moment we don't cultivate a space for rest.  For many of our artists to make a living, not millions of dollars but enough rather to pay rent and buy groceries and you know have health insurance which as a note many artists cannot afford,  they are required to remain relative and visible in this constantly in flux market. We demand them to come to our town on tour every year or more, feel despondent and rejected when they don't,  and in demanding this we say that we are willing to sacrifice their health and stability as a person and artist for our desire to consume the beautiful gift of music that they offer. As Ian and I were talking I was struck by the idea that in general but specifically in this context the idea of rest and fallowness is not encouraged. Much like the land when it is not allow the fallow time to replenish, we as people and artist need rest. Time to regroup and let things peculate so that what is needed to come out will.

When we push ourselves and others to exhaustion, to a space where everything is running long past empty we loose. We loose the gifts that fallowness has to offer, the gift of rest and replenishment. Sometime, often in rest that which was hidden comes out. When the land rests it produces above and beyond what is expected, yet when we over tax it we can rape the land of everything so that it is unable to produce life. The same is true with our bodies, minds, souls, relationships and creativity. When much needed rest is not given and space is not offered to recharge and replenish, we risk the loss of greatness and abundance that we could have. As artists and as those who love art I think we need to think more about opening spaces of rest and fallow time. 

Tuesday, August 07, 2012

...absence....

i feel the absence in my bones and on the other side of the bed. it's been to long and i find i am lost again in the impossibility of it all. so i ignore the mounting needs and desires, plodding forward trying to figure out how to live alone. it's not to hard really which is the worst of it. i'm prone to being hidden like a beauty in the tower lost and trapped away from the world. it's the coming out or allowing someone in that's the struggle, making room for another in the crazy land of me. coated in summer night's heat sticky and wet i wish to lay naked and exploring with another in the heat of a soft bed.  alas none has been found who can fill that space, so i sip cool water and close my eyes to get lost in a lover found only in my head. 

God the painter

"God is a painter and the world his canvas"- brave new voices poet Orlando


This statement hits me solidly at 1:50am on a sunday morning. The beauty and truth of it rings endless echoes in my ears. If I could solidly live into the reality of that truth and another with it the fact that God is love and I am loved and we are all loved, how different would my world and life look. To actually live in the truth that there is freedom in that creativity and love. THIS is calling, the freedom of love to live into the Imago Dei, the call to be creatively engaging with life each and everyday. With paint on my fingers, the residue of canvases and inspiration that doesn't want to come, I think over these words running them back and forth in my mind.

God offers so much art, it literally screams "I am fearfully and wonderfully made" yet those who claim this close connection to the one who has marked and finger printed the whole of created order lack imagination and are unable to remove themselves from their child's play boxes. Why doesn't love flood down the way I saw it burst forth for a few days on the north east? How is it that the cohesion between faith and action's of care are so distanced from each other, you wouldn't imagine that they were meant to be linked?

If God is a painter, the ultimate creator and we bear God's image then why the fuck are we so damned uncreative? Why do we hide in our cloistered ghettos and freak out, wringing hand when our children want to venture out to change the world in a manner that doesn't mean knocking it out and bringing it home? Why do we run from all the spaces where God's revealing God's self? Taking on a stance of preemptive war we miss the beauty of what is being offering.

I don't want to live in fear, in a stance of protection, no I want love and generosity to come flooding out. In the smallest of ways I want to be a part of changing the world. To paint wild skys and make shift creating music and take photos and tell stories that one cannot walk away from. Because this is how one lives to bear the image of the eternal artist, how one creates beauty.

Monday, July 23, 2012

to see

I long for the day when your manied wounds will be transformed into wellsprings of healing and life. That the deepest desire of your heart will override the tightrope you walk between light and darkness. You were given a holy kissed being, blessed with a presence and power of greatness, I don't want to see the darkness eat that power and destroy you with it. I do not want to wake up to the news of your death because you couldn't hold on just a bit longer for love and light to win. Just like the others and the one's we've already lost I don't want to loose you yet. Please love don't let those deadly voices take hold of your heart and mind. Come out on the other side of this valley with a truth and love more solid than your time tempered hate. Let the words of a father sing blessings over you "what's happen to you you used to be so unkind, you used to curse at this poor world so what changed your mind? what stirred such compassion is a mystery to me I don't know what's happened but I like what I see." If I do wake some morning to the news that you followed jim and kurt and amy down the rabbit-hole it will break my heart, yet i will still hope and love for you.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

just beneath my surfaces lies this seething desire to run reckless and naked through the sunset tinted streets. to let you finally strip me and take all of what i am giving. will you take me to the rhythm of my favorite bands, get drunk on the music and desire and sex? to sit in places unashamed with you beside me. do i trust you enough to all you full entry into all the spaces i hide from the world? to let you ride me to the edge of danger just close enough that i fear i might fall in, only to bring me back into your arms again. your wild and unpredictable nature pulls me in along with you sweet and tender hidden heart. i want nights and days of something more than my wanting. i want a space filled with music and art and sex and wine and you....
Tonight my world got a little bit smaller...it's something that keeps happening connections come from such unexpected places. Sometimes when this happens it's a sweet little smile of a thing but other times, this evening being one the realization is a swift punch to the gut. Those unseen sucker punches usually are connected with promises or hopes as yet to have been seen. So I straddled the already/not yet and beg for swift restoration. 

ramblings...

I live in tensions. Those ever present sets of warring or seemingly warring pulls. Somedays I want the simplest of lives unfettered by the wonton desires that barrage my heart, in those moments I long to be one who is happy with creating on the sided getting married and having a normal sort of life. Yet more often than not the other side draws my path wanting way more than that. The desire is to creative, change the world, change lives, tell stories, fall in love and travel the world. No matter how hard I try the latter vision demands it be heard and followed. I cannot escape it nor do I really want to....but I do still living in the tension of unfilled desire, the empty hole that has yet to find a partner. Someday is the phrase that runs through my head yet someday has yet to appear....

Thursday, July 19, 2012

heart ache of depression and suicide


I have struggled all of my life with depression. This week, through some events in a good friend's life, I was struck with a nagging fear for any child I have who might be born with a similar genetic make up as myself. The thought entered my mind while drivng down a sunny street "what if my child has the same mental struggles that I did?"

What happens if I do have a child and when they are a teenager they are as depressed as I was?

From my sophmore through my senior year in high school I battled my depression and self hatred. There were a few days when light shown bright and I caught a glimpse of hope but over all those were some pretty dark and horrific years for me emotionally and mentally, granted for almost everyone high school sucks and is basically hell on earth I give you that, but for some of us it is a hell which threaten's life it's self every day. For me the horror of it got so overwhelming that I began to contemplate death, not because I really wanted to die but rather I just wanted the pain and sorrow to be gone. I was raise in a faith tradition that emphasised the rest which one finds in the afterlife with God, given this reading of death, I came to the view that if that was true wouldn't it be better just to end life and be with God at rest? So over the course of high school years I went from depression to suicidal depression. And on a cold winter night I finally decided to do something about it. I took some wine and I took some sleeping pills, hoping it wouldn't hurt to bad and I could finally be at rest, and went to sleep. Obviously things didn't work out as I had planned that evening because if so I wouldn't be here now typing. Instead I woke up two/three hours later and spent the next day and a half puking my guts out. Lovely friends, blackmailed (ie strongly encouraged) me to tell my parents and that lead to eventually getting some help and slowly finding ways out of the hole. I still struggle with depression, but these days I am more concerned about how this might pass to my future children and how I will I be able to help them navigate those dark and lonely waters, than how to deal with my own depression because I have learned ways to keep it in check.

I know these aren't often the things one thinks about when they think of having a child but then one often doesn't think about how that child might be born with major struggles of any kind. The various experiences of my life have taught me one major lesson, no matter what you do or who you are positive and negative things come that are unexpected and you have to figure out how to navigate through those waters with grace and mercy. As I remain childless and single I still process what struggles or hurtles changes in those circumstances will bring into my life and am trying to be present to fears and thoughts when they arrive. 

To loose a loved one to death is a shattering heartache no matter what, when it is at their own hand especially the result of depression or mental illness it is even more heart breaking because we feel that there had to be something we could have done to stop it from happening. I know for me there really wasn't anything that could have changed my mind except what I got, to wake up the next morning feeling like ass in a bag and have to get on with life. I hope that I can express my own struggles and hopes well enough with the possible children I might have with a honesty and truth that encourages and support them to seek health and clarity. In the end like much of life I must trust that when and if I have a child and they struggle with depression or suicidal tendances I will be given the tools needed to be a good parent as well as trusting that the God I still believe in is big enough to hold and work it all out in the end. 



Tuesday, July 17, 2012

lovely thoughts on love

i love,

          once i loved,
                       
                               i will love again.


once i fell in love with someone after we had fallen apart. for ages now that love has grown. it moves deeply and fondly into a space where it is transformed into something different and other that i thought it would be. i find prayers and kisses on my tongue not so filled with my own desire for reconnection but rather that this one i love be blessed and become the wonder of star and light that i know he can be.

         i love now one whom i do not know beyond the comments and connections with people i know           and love. i rest in the fact that of what will be will be. maybe my love of this image of a man will come in contact with the real being and i will learn how to love him or from a side line i will have this mythical spiritual love and let the beauty of that loving flow through me.

                          i trust that someday *hopefully soon, this girl ain't getting younger* i will meet
                          someone who i can love and be loved by. that eventually i will find a partner
                          with whom i can create a life...and again love will come.


     i love,

                i will love,

                                 i have loved.....




life

haven't written here in a while...I've been swamped and mobbed by the four jobs, school, unpacking the new apartment and whatnotery. It feels like I never have enough time or hours in the day. And yet I am getting to do some incredible things, like starting on my master thesis project! I guess I am really learning to take one step at a time and trust that if I keep moving forward things will get done.

There are so many things flooding my head these days and the time to process those thoughts feels terribly illusive, like fairies in a child's garden just beyond reach and around the corner. I have such good intensions of being prepaired and ahead of myself and then suddenly life shows up and smacks the table throwing everything up in the air. How do I keep present when the present zooms by at lighting speeds? I hope maybe soon there will be some quite time for rest and reflection but who knows.

I have been taking a photography class at Art Center and here a few shots from class....


Sunday, June 24, 2012

thankful...

I often forget to thank God for the blessing of friends...tonight was a reminder of that blessing. While on a smoke break during one of the two shows I went to this evening, I got to have a great chat with my friend Jen. Speaking with someone who understands your situation is like water on parched ground...you don't always need to speak because so much of what is being said needs no clarification. Yet tonight I am so very thankful for that space of understanding what is terribly hard to articulate and explain...and for her friendship in general.

Saturday, June 09, 2012

.....

love and fear run down the center of my heart...just when i think i have a hold of one the other takes over and begins throwing everything off balance. i want so badly to be over run with love and compassion, to believe and live so wildly in truth that fear can on longer wrap her dark wet sticky fingers around my heart. i need a repellent something to finally keep her at bay...to find rest in a solid space.

love on the other hand likes to take the piss out, silently sneaking up behind and biting me unexpectedly in the heart. she toys with my feeble groundings and recalls truths and heartaches that i do not want to revisit. she allows jealousy to come and play just for fun in the most awkward of spaces. why can't she just be kind? bring a worthy lover and call it a day a life and year? 

Sunday, May 20, 2012

i listen to your creativity with a bar of laced chocolate in my stomach and the frustration with you sitting on my heart. i don't want anything more than a physical connect with something real so in the absence of that i choose the surreal and surrender myself to it's drugged fueled visions. you will not mark me and the one before has seared my soul so i sit in the middle no man's land waiting for the next brave soul. dark nights of wandering fingers and ghostly lovers have left me parched and needy. when will the oasis of tenderness come? where is my sea of love and gentle lover guide? the drugs kick in and i find that i must offer up the better parts of me to sail across their oceanic memories.

Monday, May 14, 2012

truth in chaos age

we are searching in this age of post modernism, where structures and institutions no longer work, for they had left us with nothing. beaten and broken we have been shattered by the weight of keeping up appearances and books of rules. love and grace have been bound up in shackles locked in a deep dark hole, their personages co-opted for the political games. truth is a seemingly impossible commodity especially from those who are the gate keepers of the real. the guardians of honesty have sold their soul for a wealthy socialist's ironically constructed lie. life seems solidly topsy-turvy in a festival play and nothing makes sense as each card comes up to say it's hopeless tale. i can't make sense of these warring signs and stories before me...each has a piece of truth like the elephant tale but not compose a animal in it's whole sense. clarity has been lost and i swim in a sea that that has no boundaries and looks out past infinity. so inside and outside and around and through i'm seeking the answers anew.

Monday, April 09, 2012

i want something...
                              it hides mysteriously slowly poking through small shafts of light
     i see sometimes clearer than i want to but only when i am outside of the range of sight
                              when a certain being walks into the lens i go all weak in the knees
i want but for all my wanting i can't seem to make things true.

for i know in my wanting, that to enact what i desire would lead to destruction for the both of us.

 yet there is this wormy darker shadow self that sits inside the deep spaces of my heart. she wants to rage against you to shatter the world between us with sex, violence, and love.  in a glorious ball of passion and anger, we'd burn up the sky in our seedy little motel room.

i know this...  
                     love is absent it ran away years ago.
   sex wouldn't heal, fix or repair what is broken in my heart and yours it would only sharpen the stone cold seal.
              because baby we are a combustible equation you and me. we may burn up the sky but we also would take the galaxies with us...on my foolishly wandering adventure.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

saying good bye


letting go of an idea of you is so much harder than having to let go of you. when it's all shattered and broken and beyond the point of repair i ache and hurt and throw things at the wall. in that "you" are gone for good allowing space for another to come in after the process of repair. but that isn't always how things work...sometimes we just change the context of our relationship. this makes those tender moments when your image comes flying at me through the face in a car window or a song on the radio harder to bear, because you are still here never lost just moved.  it's a slower healing time because there is no rage just the slow steady stream of my romantic love for you flowing into a river of friendship and platonic care. that wanting is so hard to let go of...as the memories of long ago nights where we laid side by side sharing our secret hopes and heart with images of a now lost future. as i clean out thing shaking off the dust and moldy corrosion, i come across your words in letters and notes and pictures of made in another time and space. for a brief moment i loose my breath and feel tears of loss welling up inside. then a new lover touches my arm and i am released. so to what we once were for a moment or a life-time i say good bye...

Sunday, March 25, 2012

rainy night reflections

the rain softly falling outside is a distant echo of long forgotten home. that soothing sound of late nights and  grey clouded dreams. the wonderful pitter patter as you sit sheltered in a dark car sharing stories, insights and dreams as the windows slowly fog. yet tomorrow it will be all gone the sun in her wonder will dry up all the remnant soaking this much needed moisture into her golden skin. it's nights like these that lead me to crave the absence of a you. they warp my brain leading to convoluted images that turn one thing into another entirely. i ask for what i cannot have and hope that someday that which is lost will return. the rain enters my bones and soaks deep into my skin recalling the water people i come from the land of dark skys and folky music and oceanviews. the perfected cup of coffee with that hint of depression hanging over, i traded what i had in the north for tangible promises in the south....but every so often the rain comes to recall those former days.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

i don't even know what i want right now...so tired and punchy. the need to destroy everything and irrevocably hurt both of us stands at the front of my mind. you stand as icon for every bastard and previous heart ache starting with my father, the man you oddly resemble. my fingers run back and forth toying with the button i know leads to our mutual destruction. in this moment i don't care about the casualties or effects of that push just my damned faith that i would finally be released from that wormy needy part of myself that clings on to the idea of you. instead of walking away, i sit for hours fixated on way to go KABOOM! i want to feel something more, i am addicted to the pain i know you will bring and i crave it for the darkest drug it is. i want it, i want you because this is all so shattered i will not be responsible if more is broken. guilt will not wrap it's arms around my throat because there it was a total mess before i got here.

lost in my mind

i dream of a day when i am no longer bound to all the bullshit in my head. when visions are clear and i can choose the good over the need to be seen in a certain light. one day i will embrace the gift with out critiquing what is wrong and right. but that time isn't now. hatred, doubt and insecurity plague me by the hour. demonic voices hold the broken fun house mirrors and tell me stories laced with lies. i see beauty in the shattered and fear in the tender hearted and my mind run circles of crazy. the broken spaces scream out for restitution as the image consultants throw them in the back closet and hide. i run through the tall grass and tired trees looking for chemical means of escape. your image and presence are the gun and the bottle. you are the bullet in this mental game of russian roulette. click, click, click two steps away from sanity am i. should have ran naked through the streets ages ago so that now in my old age i wouldn't feel the need or loss of youthful expression. the ache and subsequent need to numb is so great i willingly take anyone into myself just to calm the burning for a while. i would chase you down and implode our world if i could.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

memorable

Iconic, memorable, unforgettable....

words that my heart wishes and secretly hopes could be mine.

she wants the power of presence to walk into the room and undo people. to be wanted and pedestaled and desired even as she tries to hide away.

yet she can't see herself in the marilyn's, madonna's and beauties...no she sees only the servant, the easily forgettable tumblely friend...the motherly creature whom everyone thinks should just raise the children.

her dark and earthy sexuality still it seems is hidden beneath the ground waiting for someone to come again and discover this treasure but none do.

i want to feel like my strength and desirability is at the beck and call of those who have eyes to see it but that it shouts it's presence in to the crowd and silence takes over the madness.

i want to be that woman you can never get over because she was the one you wanted so badly....

late night convolution meant for a former lover

 I need you...one night alone again in a room without your fear of destruction or my fear of expressing desire. I need your hands and mouth traveling the length of my body making every inch of me scream. You in side me and over me. Us molded and mended in tender and wild wanting and fulfillment.  

Don't miss understand me lover, while you have my heart. I am not asking for yours or  nor giving mine away whole. This request does not mean I want marriage or children or something beyond what we have. Rather it is just the request that through the earthiness of our coming together, I might find rest from your haunting of me. 

No, while I do from morning tonight need this haunting of your to stop the chords to be cut. I am neither foolish innocent not love struck blind. I know you sir I know your ways. My request is that you follow through on that promise so long ago made. Sealed by a marking kiss. 

Savior or some time wife I do not wish to be....memorable, seared in your brain, unforgettable and always loved yes but not wife not mother just friend and sometime lover that is all I want for us to be.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

loving an artist...

I love and hate that which makes you what you are...in moments you are wise and loving and tender and true, but then the beast comes you transform into something other and wicked. your transformation completed in the self absorbed artist who cares not a fig for anyone but him self and his next lay or next fix.

The Jekyll and Hyde wage war in your being, battling for control.  A kind man and a cruel lover both pull me closer and closer to the edge of reason.  You will be the death of me or the inspiration of the greatest art  my soul can hold. Either way I don't know whom you will be from moment to moment and for some godawful reason I can't seem to let go. My affection for you is like some warped version of Jacob's wrestling with the Angel seeking for blessing. A deep river of thought runs through my heart bound to the belief that if I just hold on I will be blessed by your Angel.

So I eat the bitter tasting half promises, the soggy professions of love and care...hoping vainly I'm sure in a lover who will never really care. For I am not words on a page or a screen, neither painting nor canvas (although I would willing offer my body to your creative endeavors), alas neither am I guitar or bass or drums that you can stoke and hit. I am merely woman, lover of your take heart and soul...drinking the drops and swallowing the crumbs that are left in the wake of your magical whirlwinds. 

what you wanted...

It's been a week of surreal moments. Mostly I've been hit between the eyes with the reality that I am actually on a path leading to things that I have wanted in my life for ages. I have a lovely little life...not perfect and not complete yet still missing some key elements but a lovely life none the less. Confidence and growth are happening at rapid rates yet I still come tumbling back down the hill needing to pick up my bucket and try again. It's as if life is simultaneously moving in slow motion and on fast forward, I can't quite seem to get a grasp on things or how to play. In spite of my feelings of insecurity and failure I am finally at a point in my life where what matters most is the continuingness of showing up. What matters more that being right the first time is practice and repetition and letting everyone know you are in for the long haul.

There are still moments when the weight of happiness gets overwhelming and it's all I can do to stand my ground and not actively destroy or run away. But what little grace it is to have the warmth of purpose and love show up and remind me that it takes years and hours to be good let alone great and that I am just learning the steps to this tango. 

Monday, March 12, 2012

Interview with The Black Ryder

Here is the link to the interview I got to do with Aimee Nash and Scott Von Ryper of the Black Ryder

http://www.zani.co.uk/component/content/article/9-music/476-the-black-ryder-a-ride-worth-taking

Thursday, March 08, 2012

creatureliness wins

i once believed what i was told. that if i just waited and hoped love would come as good as gold. this i now know is a bold faced lie...love has not come no matter how hard i tried. so i settle for the lesser the tangible deed and hope that sex will fill what i need. i am tired and i'm cold i just need to connect, to another broken soul in a moment in a second in a slight lapse of time. you tell me it's not God's will but i can't hear you at all this time...for the fairytale of life and love worked it's magic on your and your eyes can't see what mine have been through. so while you construct the idealized life, i crawl into be with the current man in my life. there is presence and sweetness and transcendence here too, that is all i can muster to say to you.

Friday, March 02, 2012

destroyer love

we melt so easily into you as you melt so easily into us. lust does funny things with the brain turning the strong willed and bold in to simmering messes of giggles and macho inflections. i loose all sense of being when the flood light of sexual attraction shines down on me. desire and wanting the dionysian beverages play tricks with the heart and soul. suddenly kali and parvati mingle into one deadly and beautiful mistress of which few escape without paying heavy fees. persephone lost half her year to the darkness of hades' lair for the prick of cupid's arrows. given the history of the ancient gods it's no wonder we so quickly offer up ourselves to be devoured by each other in the name of sex, love and desire? 

around and around

i keep running in circles broader and broader circles searching for one who can hold my body and heart together as one.

 yet none comes who can stay the journey....there was one once who came close but then he wandered away.

so i find that i am lost and alone in the ways of love. traveling a path without guidance or warmth on those long cold nights.

there are days when i would give almost anything i have for the shelter of another body and heart. offer up all of my dreams just for a few moments of tenderness and met desire.

why have i to wait so long? to sit here by the side of the road...should i dress as ritual whore to fulfill my unmet rights?

the damned fool of a heart wants what it cannot ever have and longs for the touch and momentary connection to exorcise the wanting.  maybe in the oddity of a desert night the ritual will finally culminate and freedom will be found.


Sunday, February 26, 2012

the rarest of gifts...



     Over the last few days I have been encountering over and over again the rare gift of creatively living into calling and life. So many of us walk like zombies through our daily lives seeking to get through them instead of living them, myself included.

            Standing on the sidewalk in front of the Frolic Room in Hollywood this last Friday afternoon with my friend iAN, we encountered over the span of five minutes, at least five or six people passing by who were barely living their lives. The majority, and the ones my friend noticed with his tender heart, were those who had been sculpted by the brokenness of life. The old man slowly shuffling down the street, the homeless punk kid riddled with scars and markers of rejection before the ripe age of 22, and the forty something man with the backpack and construction boots. Yet I also saw the surgically crafted woman, the couple that was dressed to the nines in super hipster couture and insecure, and the guy trying his best to be cool. In all these people lay lives that were missing something...Thoreau's lives of quiet desperation. In large and small ways we miss the beautiful gift of life, instead we choosing anesthetization and the slow suffocation of our desperate souls. We all easily misplace and lock away the truths we know, the ones of simplicity from our childhood or passing moments of clarity... the truth that we are intrinsically creative (even those who don't perceive themselves to be in possession of even an atom of creativity) it is our nature, our breath, our ruach (Hebrew for spirit, breath, wind, Spirit of God) we are people birthed and formed in creativity. The second truth that we misplace is our perception that we are able to do this alone.
         What I mean by this is that we are unable to break out of our warped and misaligned translations of our lives and experiences with out the help of others. I cannot break out of my fractured perception with out others to walk with me to offer new mirrors and helping hands. Personally I have been telling myself the wrong whys for the brokenness and pain in my life for so long that it takes almost daily reminders to break though that bullshit.  For the utterly broken, be that brokenness spiritual, mental, physical or a wild cocktail of all three and more, and even for those not so broken communal engagement is needed. When community fails to hold light and truth then individuals are less whole.
The statement "God helps those who help themselves" (Benjamin Franklin said this, not the Bible...this is actually counter to biblical teachings where restoration and help is a vital part of the community and community and individuals suffer when there is a "I can do it on my own" attitude) while holding a kernel of truth in that we must be co-participants in healing and restoration misses the point. Without the interaction and help of others one cannot find help. How often has someone tried their best seeking everything in them to quit drinking or eating or to start exercising or introducing a new habit, only to be over come with the impossibility of the task. The transformation that is being sought usually comes when others come and walk with that person through the hard journey of transformation. The caveat to this would be that the person seeking to change their life in some way must already want that for the support of others to be affective.
         Ok so going back to the idea of creativity...later on that same afternoon I had the chance to sit with two kind and funny men who are lucky enough to get paid to do creative things. What struck me in the brief conversation is how lightly they treated that great gift. Both Robert and Ben are blessed to play and write music (Robert) and create and execute beautiful lighting designs and manage band tours (Ben, the latter of which requires incredible amounts of creativity...I mean think about it dealing with band and crew has got to take some pretty massive amounts of creativity). Everyday they each enter into a space of good hard work that, if they have eyes to see it is rot and saturated with the beauty of creativity. I have often heard Robert and the other members of his band say that when playing and creating music becomes work more than it is creative and fun then it is time to end. This is one of the reasons that have been given for why their former band mate left, was because it was more work than enjoyment. Yet I also wonder how does one cultivate that freshness, that wonder of the early time when you are still in love with the gift. And going back to the idea of community when that love starts to wane, to fall away and passion becomes monotony, I think what is needed is others to hold up the mirror. They must come around and say here is where passion and the needs of the world come together in the unique and beautiful way that only you can offer.  Or in more harsh terms "Listen do you know how many people would kill for the chance to create music as a living? You GET to do that, but not only do you get to do that but you and your band have the potential to become one of those world changing and influential bands musically and socially. So why aren't you doing that...get off your ass and go live into that calling."  And that is what community does it come and holds the mirror offering you a different perspective on your reality. Community comes to shake out the flawed voices and turning your head to see more broadly that you were able to.
           In what I know of Robert's father Michael, he offered light in darkness and perspective shifts. Michael seems to offer both an understanding of the gift life; especially a life that is created in lived passion as well as the responsibility and weight of that gift. As a musician it was not enough just for him to play music but that creativity needed to pour out and offer something to the community. But the gift of Michael went beyond that he was someone who encouraged and inspired those around him. Every story I have ever hear told about the man speaks to a person who loved others well and delighted in them. I love reading and watching interviews with him because I see someone who cares for others offering grace and compassion and time. This image, for that is all it can be in this present reality, is a man whom I long to know, who shines as an example of humble Christ-like presence. To me he is an example of community and care at it's best...encouraging those around you to rise up from the ashes of your interpretation and see something differently in a way that will change your life. Creativity and community found a place in Michael as I have been told.


All of this to stay I have been kicked in the ass by Ruah with reminders, reminders to stop sleepwalking through life awaking only for the rare moments. Instead I need to learn to live and breathe and see each moment as a space for creative engagement. With that creative engagement I will also embrace community and what it has to offer me...especially in the ways in which community helps me to better see how to "read" my life so that in new translations I can see how to engage with creativity more and more.



a little thought on love

i love you she said

how do you know responded he

because said she

because how said he

because i would break myself of all i ever want just for the chance to keep loving you

really spoke he

yes she whispered i'd loose myself in you...

travel me to surrender

I want you to explore me like a uncharted land. Treating it like you are the first one to ever ventured into this new topography. Play me again and again like that song on the album we both love that you played so many times we came close to enlightenment until the needle cracked the vinyl clean to the other side. Let your hands slowly discover all I have to offer, inches at a time like a man who blindly can only see the world through the touch of finger tips to flesh and bone. Let my heart be to you like a vast and uncharted ocean that you could never hope to cross all of but you'll be damned to hell if you don't try over and over and over again. I want you to love me this well so that I can find rest in your arms, to finally feel what it is like to surrender melting into the being of another even if it is ever just a series of moments. To find the place where us and them fades into ich und du, connection happens and we see clearly if only for a brief bit of time. 

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

High Fidelity and Marriage

This is a paper I wrote several years ago and came across today.....it's an image of my emerging engagement with film.





Rob: I'm tired of the fantasy, because it doesn't really exist. And there are never really any surprises, and it never really...
Laura: Delivers?
Rob: Delivers. And I'm tired of it. And I'm tired of everything else for that matter. But I don't ever seem to get tired of you, so...(Frears, 2000)


Marriage has to be based on something more than a fantasy it takes work and commitment. I think this is the whole premise of the film High Fidelity, based on the book of the same name by Nick Hornby. High Fidelity speaks about marriage, the essence of marriage the coming together of two people.  Rob Gordon is a thirty something man who is finally learning how to truly be in a committed relationship. It only takes him losing his great girlfriend, encountering ex-girlfriends, winning his girlfriend back and then doing something that could cost him everything he has just gotten back and learned. At this point Rob realized that he has spent his life chasing after fantasies, instead of committing to Laura his girlfriend.  He realizes that he has something good someone worth making a commitment to. Commitment and fantasy are two elements that cannot live together in a marriage.  To be committed is to give up fantasy and live in reality of the day to day with one person.
The focus of the film is Rob’s journey towards commitment. First we see that Rob hasn’t left behind any of his past relationships. He is still clinging to the illusion of what he remembers them to be. “Some people never got over Vietnam or the night their band opened for Nirvana. I guess I never got over Charlie.”(Frears, 2000) Charlie along with three other exes’ have been fantasies where Rob can live out the past as a way to not live in the present. He is more tied to these past relationships than to his real relationship with Laura. When she leaves him he decides, with a bit of help from Bruce Springsteen, to revisit the past as a way to make him feel better. So Rob goes to back to his “top five break-ups” to find out why he is doomed to be left. What he finds is that he has been living in the illusion of what these relationships were. Charlie Ncklson being the most devastating of those relationships. This woman, he once thought to be so deep, wise, and above him, Rob now finds to be arrogant, self-centered, and lacking a sense of humor.  This relationship with Charlie is where Rob stopped growing, he stagnated his life.  In facing the reality of the fantasy he is able to look forward and outward. When he is faced with Laura’s need, after the death of her father, Rob is actually able to see her. In the face of her sorrow he sees how selfish and self-centered he has been in their relationship. “I can see now I never really committed to Laura. I always had one foot out the door, and that prevented me from doing a lot of things, like thinking about my future and... I guess it made more sense to commit to nothing, keep my options open. And that's suicide. By tiny, tiny increments.”(Frears, 2000)  Laura and Rob come back together and all is well, for a while. Rob is thinking about Laura and trying to commit to her, yet he hasn’t given up all fantasy. He is still tempted by the fantasy of a new person, having given up the fantasy of past relationships. This is when the reality of relationship (and marriage) enters into his lesson. After finding himself happy with Laura and yet tempted by another woman Rob realizes the fundamental problem with fantasy that it doesn’t deliver in the way it promises to. Through encountering this truth he is faced with the reality, that while his relationship with Laura is hard and messy, he never tires of her. This is the woman he has chosen to create a life with and commit to, while that may not look as good as the fantasies he creates it is what he most needs and wants.
I love the picture this film presents of relationships, one that I think really emphasizes what it means to be committed and married to another. There is such a beauty in watching this man discover what true intimacy and relationship is. Laura and Rob know each other’s heart and in the end are able to call each other up to something greater. When Laura leaves the relationship at the beginning of the film she leaves Rob for another man. Rob pursues her in spite of this, knowing that this other man isn’t for Laura. In turn Laura knows Rob’s heart when it comes to his passions and desires for a future. She lovingly calls him to become the man that he has been made. This film not only shows the importance of leaving other relationships and commitments behind when entering into marriage but also the beauty of two people coming together.

Monday, February 13, 2012

motorcycle enkidu

he drive me wild with the roar of a motorcycle that awaits like a phantom outside my door. like the music it can't quite be contained or held tight. i try as we wind in and out of emotional canyons of the los angeles hills but i never seem to hold tight enough to quell the fear of falling off. with motorcycle boots, tattoos, cigarette fused dreams, late night stolen kisses and the spiritual connected music of our favorite band, this man wild as enkidu captured my locked heart when i wasn't looking. in my mind his presence, my lover, is seared and fused with motorcycles, music, and lyrical rants. they mediate his transcendent love to my empty bed. i want to be his baby like the music and the motorcycles. capture and turn his head like the roar of triumphs and "half-state's" opening chords, to run across his tired mind as it slips down the well of long lost sleep. he is my wild man of the midwestern shores. 





Sunday, February 12, 2012

Thoughts on two films from Sundance- "California Solo" & "I Am Not a Hipster"

California Solo
                       Sitting next to a successful musician a few days ago a question formed in my mind “If you weren’t able to do this, play music as a living, what would you be doing?” In many ways this is one of the fundamental questions being asked in the film “California Solo” which premiered at the Sundance film festival a few weeks ago. Yet the answer to this question is the darker side of what happens to many artists who can’t let go of the past to live fully into the present and therefore create a future.
 California Solo is the story of Lachlan a former Britpop rocker, in the vein of bands like The Verve/Stone Roses/T-Rex, who is now managing an organic farm outside of Los Angeles and living out the pain of his former existence via massive bottles of alcohol and a podcast called “Flame-Outs” which covers the tragic deaths of great musicians.  Lachlan is a man caught between the haunting past and an empty future, where his greatest hope is to get the chance to show Beau, a beautiful and young customer at the farm’s stand in the Silver Lake farmer’s market, the farm and maybe have a night of connection. He is a man who needs something to change his trajectory and path; this needed catalyst comes in the form of a DUI. Which in and of it’s self should be a wake up call but there is more in store for Lachlan with the DUI comes up a past drug offense which leads to the threat of deportation. The only way Lachlan will be able to stay in the United States is to prove that his absence will cause a US citizen, like child or spouse, “extreme hardship”. Thinking it will be as easy as pie this clause leads to Lachlan contacting his ex wife and daughter, neither of whom he has seen for years. Intertwined with his seeking contact with his lost family Lachlan keeps making choices based in forms of numbing and forgetting leading him deeper down the rabbit-hole. In the end Lachlan’s daughter reaches out to him and in that action Lachlan a man who could never come to meet his past is able to for the first time in years accept responsibility for his life and in doing so move forward.  Restoration comes in relationship and not always getting what you want. 


I Am Not a Hipster
                             As much as I love film very rarely does one capture my heart and creativity from the opening shot. Yet Destin Cretton's film did just that. Walking into the theatre from the freezing cold of Utah in the winter I knew next to nothing about this film except that it was about a hipster musician. What I had entered was a beautiful story about the way grief throws the world off kilter and how it might be possible to move forward. Brooke the main character is a musician of some fame who moved to San Diego, two years previously after his mother's death. When we first encounter him he is doing his best just to keep his head above water. Brooke is just barely keeping a boiling pot of anger, contempt, and meaningless hidden under an air of apathy. The only thing that is offering him any sort of connection are images and stories of the Japanese Tsunami of last year, something in his experience of this horror has shook him into a need for meaning. Enter his three sisters and father with whom he has a strained relationship with. They have come for a final sending of their mother into the waves of the Pacific ocean.    In his sisters Brooke is offered the space to remember, grieve, and be. He is no longer running away from the loss of his mother, which is how he ended up in San Diego, and with that processing he is able to release the anger, contempt, and meaninglessness which has been plaguing him. Cretton leaves the audience with possibility and that is a beautiful thing. 



When/If you get the chance please see both of these beautiful movies.


Saturday, February 11, 2012

crumbs

the crumbs that you throw out those little tidbits meant to keep me at your beck and call but never satisfied not longer work. i feel used and abused way more than i ever would have when sex is involved. everything in me on every plane of existence wants to take it all back....to just be removed from the whole fucking equation. this game this thing this being this living sucks! i feel to much that each mounting emotion or clarity or what-have-you is nothing more than a new form of torture. desire, love, hope, dreams, faith they were never meant to be tools of destruction and yet here they are piercing my heart five ways to sunday.

everything good and true feels like a lie, i can't find faith but i can't find my way out. limbo i am always here on the fence...if i could just remove myself my mind my heart something i could be happy right....if i could stop seeing the falseness or just let go of the need for experience then i could find balance. but i can't i want to explore and i see all the traps. the tears are like a bottomless wellspring and i want so badly for something anything that feels alive and more real. in the flood of it all i dared God, i asked for a miracle instead of tangible crumbs...i need a burning bush, a parting of the red sea, a vision and manna all at once. i screamed can't you see me dying here....if this is all it is then end it, remove me, just complete the damned shattering and call it good. my arms, heart and mind can't hold any more unrealized hope or untethered dreams. i am so solidly locked into a fun house mirror view that anything short of Christ's presence or a impossible dreams manifestation is ineffective.

forget it i say it's just the tired the crazy and here i go to bed..

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

light

tears run down my cheek in a baptism of sorts. i relive losses and gains in the flickering of cinema or the hum of a guitar. these truths strike like flint to stone shooting across my night sky illuminating everything for a few minor seconds. the demons rage on sticking their grubby and gnarled fingers in the holes of my framing. for a few hours they have the power to make me eat dark and wormy things before light breaks through the bullshit and darkness. the words of a man whom i will never know on this sphere of life offer much needed encouragement, bringing hope the wellspring of life. 

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

Class Notes- Artist, Cinema, & Theology in dialogue

Just wanted to share some rough thoughts from my class response journal for this week....



I was struck in our conversation this week about how art is looked at shifts and changes depending on the time period and way we see. I was intrigued by Barry’s statement that in contemporary art we don’t know where or how to look. I would agree with this statement, and would ask/add to it that I think we might lost in part our ability to allude and create multi-layer pieces like Vermeer or other artists of the past who were more restricted in what was acceptable. What I mean is that many, not all, but many artists today (this is across all art-forms not just limited to a specific) just use the most direct means of expression. I find that often it is more about how much can I shock my audience and out do the other people around me that how can I create something artistically solid and thought provoking. Often I find myself board with much of the art I encounter because it doesn’t challenge me or cause me to mull over it, often if lucky it is entertainment that offers a moment of distraction.  I say this being one who consumes music, film, and books on a regular basis. There are artists and pieces of art that hold my attention but much of it feels like open mic nights where out of the whole evening it’s a good night if one poet or musician offers a piece that sticks with me and is something that I can’t hold, impresses me or blows me out of the water because of it’s depth. One of my dear friends who is a writer/poet has a poem with a simple premise about the need for more love, every time I hear her read it I am mesmerized by the fun and creative way she has constructed and played with words and images to express this. Her piece is art that is powerful and engaging…but often at least one of the other poets or musicians who read with her at an open mic night are just speaking to hear their own voice…it’s like they took a bunch of images that they thought were cool and moved them around on the page until they looked like something of weight and important not realizing the vapidness of their construction.

Sunday, February 05, 2012

i can not begin to say the things that are sitting on my heart...words fail to convey the depth and impact of these emotions. nothing feels quite right in the ability to relay the swirling cocktail that has drenched my mind. an alcohol soaked brain would be better than what i seem to have to work with tonight.

the tears sit just at the back of the room waiting for the slight crack that will allow for their escape. i clamp the mouth shut so afraid to speak lest i say something that has no foundation in truth instead just the emotional excess of this bout with hormones. how did i go from movement to crazy town in a manner of weeks. where did jealousy and anger and desire come from when i clearly locked them out of the room.

i need a wild drunken night, a pot filled haze something to erase what is too close to my heart. but no that will not do so i paste the smile on, shove the contempt deeper down in my heart, make jokes about the fact that only losers and married men find anything about me compelling and run away under my books and work and stress.

and in soft and fleeting midnight breaths i accept that i have fallen in love again with a man who is incapable of loving me back. down the wrong rabbit hole i have fallen unable to see the fun one from the one filled with spikes and old wounds revisited.

so comes the crazy because falling in love sucks and falling in love with someone who can't love you really sucks but what sucks most is realizing that you should have been able to avoid this particular fall and yet you didn't and don't and will fall again and again until something changes.

missed chances...

sometimes you just need the touch of naked skin against yours. kisses from one who understand intuitively the perfect way in which you desire to be kissed. there are nights when alone just won't cut it at all, the hands are not as strong as the desire to be had...chocolate, cigarettes and alcohol are illusionary stays that have long lost their power. and the need is so great that it terrorizes you with a ever present onslaught of the most vivid and erotic dreams. you play scene of past lovers over again just to fix the out come because somewhere back there you got lost while playing it safe. on couches and hotel beds you held back because of that damned fear of repercussions not realizing that the repercussions of not were way worst than those of action. if could i would take back that night where i sat passively waiting like the maiden for that lover to woo me, instead like the vixen i would instead have stripped and boldly walked filling his frame of view like guinevere. and that other who i taunted so i would and should have shown him my treasure of gold. all those stories may still have ended the same but at least i would not hold regret like a cold flame. 

lost again

Where did she go the fearless child that I used to be? The one who with all boldness would go up to strangers and woo them with her sparkling charm. Questions and curiosities poured out of her mouth in a unstoppable torrent. Along the way she got lost and in her place a timid girl who walks on egg shells and has bound the wildness and fire in a deeply hidden box. This new girl she bends and bows to all who steal her heart. Affection and love are so lacking in her daily intake that she feel she must "earn" the crumbs thrown off the table in disregard. Around her women, girls, they are well fed there is no need for them to seek, these needed nourishments appear consistently and when needed.

Did the wild child shrivel up and die which lead to the lack of care or did the neglect lead to her closing inward to save the tiny bit of her that burns still brightly? I can't figure this damned riddle out...the proximity is too close and my vision to myopic to understand. I understand in ache and need and unmet desire. That ghost of this is what should be and why didn't you do this. I wish for the rewind to go back to moments when I would have stood boldly in all my scars and beauty completely naked, I would say take me take this I don't care what the repercussions are just please don't ignore me any longer. 

Saturday, February 04, 2012

Half state hide

"It's a fool alone that carries gold
He'll find his own when he finds alone
Now it's miles away and cast in stone
Now he's miles away and casting stones"


"Half State" stalks me when I am unaware. A profound and deep message that I just can't seem to decipher. Played live it's all over, my rabbit brain turns to mush and the spiritual-metaphysical connection takes over. Lost, searching for meaning in a swirling sea of base and guitar chords, rhythmic drum beats and the battle between dark and light. My heart prays the unattainable words that seep out of me like salt tears in a vivid dream. Echos and whispers crying I just want to know to understand to fathom the truths that even these artists can't see. I sound like a crazy person, like the Kubrick fans who see hidden meaning in telephone books half hidden on the celluloid screen. Yet I have seen God and the Devil battling out of the corner of my eyes. In a guzzle of absinthe I've seen lovers and friends change sides. I know clearly those moments when I become the conduit of the unknown truth, falling off my tongue in well formed thought and words I could never have constructed of my own accord. On a late spring night in a dream like state I talked a friend of friends off a ledge of some kind, while a dead man came to offer gifts to a friend. Events that are out of my sphere of knowledge and comprehension and yet and true as the repaired shattered front tooth or the scar on my leg from when I was six. God is bigger and broader than one can understand, lightnings of transformation and redirection happen in an instant or over a slow incline. And deep inside this hypnotic song lies a truth that I have yet to discover.


battles

my body is in revolt mode today...it often switched places with my mind like children it's so hard to get everyone on the same page. nothing wants to stay in side and offer nourishment and stability, nope it's just in and out. waves of nausea flood me from head to toe as i try with all my strength to stand and stay up right. but alas it's not a day for movement. i am confined to couches and beds and the trip in the car will be a bitch tonight. fighting i contemplate the cause of this...is it food that i should not have chosen to imbibe? or spiritual forces and energies (being earthy i feel everything physically in my body) attempting to block my forward movements? embittered and locked emotional stress? or just running myself ragged until the body finally tells the mind and the will and the spirit..."STOP" and they still don't listen so it says "I said stop and since you aren't taking my advice I'm gonna make you stop! Take that suckers!" and here i am laid out on a day when I wanted so much to be active and vibrant.


Thursday, February 02, 2012

waves and things

in a late night hour, in this moment my mind wants to yell "fuuuuuck" ( as i did this morning while stuck in traffic) and then run to get lost in a beautiful ocean. but the ocean closest is my bed and my dreams are a much more dangerous sea on which to spend this half used night...before being caught in the bright light streaming of the dawn.

damn duped again

dating and sex and attracting all sound so good on paper, don't they?
and then i find myself in the wormy little closet of desire wrestling with wants and knowledge.
it smells funny here and there is something unnatural dripping off the walls.
the various "partners" amble in and stand against the viewing spot that is not unlike a police mug shot line up.
they list their positive and negative skill sets and offerings, yet that is just the beginning. if they get past the undefinable list or i am having an exceptionally generous day then we talk and maybe just maybe meet up in some real world space.
it is here via telephone wires, emails, or silverlake bars that inevitable something shows up. it's ambiguous nature keeps definition far away but like the ticking bomb it's always on time. for in the spectral presence the attractive energies shift and all hope of future mornings in bed or walking in the rain are erased from the  candidate's brain processing.
at this given point all charm, beauty and muse-like quality hides or falls away out of my form and once again the conquest for love is aborted way to soon.

chaotic musings on fence riding

My words fail and emotional responses kick in maybe I am overly tired from the week behind and ahead of me...who knows. What I do know is this my guts are wrenched and my heart cried out to the Creator in anguish. I was once told that my empathy was like a pot left on to boil covered for way to long. So when it finally comes it's like flash floods and tsunamis washing away all below. But that is me. I feel deeply, I connect with my heart and ache on behalf of others.

How can I tell you that the readings and concrete truths with which I was raised no longer make sense to me? That if I saw the way out I might just be what some would call a heretic...but I keep holding on to the robes and attempt to break away all at the same time. Moving into contemplation I realize that I trust God, in spite of all the years I believed in God's infinite capacity to love all except me, and God's love but I do not always trust those who act as messengers of God. I sit on this fence and think about all the various ropes that are pulling across me. Even my wants seem to be polar opposites of themselves and I want so badly for someone to come along and play the hand for me. Yet ironically when one tries to I pull the cards out of their hand screaming "NO you're playing it wrong...give them to me".  So here I sit caught between desires and wants and truths and needs unable to see the forrest from the trees...I guess I'll take a seat and look at the stars for a while beseeching the universe or God for something like clarity.

Monday, January 30, 2012

for those i cant hold

The weight of grief and chaos is palpable...the goodness of my heart aches with the cracking heartache captured across telephone wires and fiber-optics. I understand the loss and accompanying depression, the desperation that comes with being alone in the gauntlet thrown down by the school of hard knocks. Yet I can't hold this, I can't hold this aching breaking you on the other end of the line. Full up here on the unintended blood suckers who are so broken they leech off others in their attempts to survive the tsunami like waves. There are those whom I am willing to wade into the depths of the ocean's darkness with and those for whom it's another's deep ended journey. Stability is my shallow cord and I don't have enough of it to offer you. Yes it's true I have played the savior at times, badly poorly and ineffectively mind you, but in two minutes of conversation I know I have nothing to offer that pain. What I have to give is for another, I am not noble or self less enough to ask for absolutely nothing in return to give like Mother Teresa in utter abundance. No, I do require a cost of some kind and that's a toll that you are unable to pay. Yours are not tears or shutters that I can hold. My body is unwilling to be offered as a means of distraction and care to your ache. This is not a relationship that will go beyond a phone call...I do not wish to try and hold grace in  my naked attachments. For some I would offer body and heart as a balm for restoration and hope but you are not him and so I must go.


cinematic ghosts

I watched you on a movie screen tonight in a crowded theatre, they even got the soundtrack and self centered despair tempered with guilt and regret right. It wasn't you it was an actor playing a character...but there were moments when I swear to God I saw you. Stalked via art and grief and life, I start to wonder when the tears and the shaking will stop. That weighty realization that I might have fallen in love, pulls down like a millstone dragging me into an uncharted ocean. What I want is impossible, stupid and foolish. The wagon is filled with voices all saying something different, calling out various futures for my little life. Yet all that I see is images snapshots of you, cinematic and real. They haunt and inspire me and offer a cathartic space to process.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Sundance reflections day 1

I am still shocked that currently I am sitting in a pub in Park City, Utah attending the Sundance film festival. Being here at this event has been something I have dreamed of for years, given the fact that it is one of the central spaces for film. To some extent it is like entering a Mecca of film culture, like entering the Sistine Chapel or the Tate or the Louve Galleries, or the Mormon Temple down the hill in Salt Lake. There is this are of reverence and awe that happens when one finds them self in a space of inspiration and encounter with the divine. Part of me is so enraptured with the whole sense of the place that I want to burst into tears and make my mark. Another part of me just wants to sit back and watch it all happen, smoke my cigarettes have a drink and wait for some beautiful person to walk by or some serendipitous encounter to take place. I have that same mealy little voice battling back and forth saying "how the fuck did you get here (what makes you so damned special)" and "you need to get out there, take the city by storm, run wild in the streets, get into some star-studded party, and make your mark on this city". So instead I sit here for a bit of reflexion and thoughtfulness before going wild. How often are we offered chances of a lifetime and get to caught up in the chaos and over-thinking in turn failing to really experience the moments being offered. I find that there is the subtle disappointment that is worming it's way into my perception of this event. But I think that if I can stay in the moment it will die off and loose the power it's trying to gain. Maybe that is the key to life living fully into each little moment of our stupid little lives to paraphrase a previous Sundance film (American Beauty) and in that we catch the wonder of a whole life because it is not longer about pushing through but engaging with what is offered. Seeing God as the goodness in each moment instead of that which condemns and brings destruction.

Blessing and opportunity are swirling around me like the snow that came here two days ago. I'm so saturated in the abundance that I can't see the forest for the trees. To be given over the last year and a half so many things that I had dreamed and hoped and thought to be impossible, and here I stand in the evidence of this not believing that all the other dreams and hopes and impossibilities can happen. Yes if I choose to work for it I can come back here to this place of film wonderment with an entry. Traveling and creating and telling stories IS the path not the hoped for path of my little life. I am encased in the arms of love not hidden outside it's reach. Perspective shifts are running at me full force and I am here to open my arms to their transforming place.

Monday, January 23, 2012

shatters

my heart it keeps breaking over and over and over again...into little shards of a thing. just when i think it can't be broken anymore empathy wields compassion like a battering ram and chink another crack in my heart. it's the child who's so fried from adult things way beyond their pay scale that they cannot understand play anymore, the depth in which poverty hits shatteringly taking lives that could have been easily saved with clean water and good food, the horrific acts that pour out of one who's fists only have the capacity to hold hatred and abuse, the acts of passive violence and active war that quickly and slowly poison the person body and soul and the damnedness of my own souls willful wantings. it's the looking at those you can't save but desperately want to, watching friends fall down the rabbit hole and wondering if they'll leave the looking glass in one piece. it breaks when i look into his eyes and hope that i was something more that what i think i might have been...the means to getting over another nothing more than a quick distraction. 

Thursday, January 19, 2012

old lovers muse

old lovers hold a pieve of me broken away as is the way. i in turn hold a part of them, dear to my heart brought out in a moment to remember them. a different conduit for each catches me off guard at the oddest times and spaces, a smell, a chord, a touch, a word...transports my heart back in space and time when there was still a we and I was a beautiful things to behold. as i jolt back in the present reality my tender need aches. i want to be desired and wanted and new all over again. a creature mysterious and unknown. the gypsy lover who walked away first the johnanna of visions and unforgetability. i want to be that woman he could never forget who's power rolls around in his heart and mind, not the shadowed creature who is easily forgotten and left behind like the cracking and greying of old photographs hidden under the bed's back corner. the perpetual muse and long lost lover, goddess of all imagined desire who still thirty years later sets you heart and stomach aflutter with desire.


Wednesday, January 11, 2012

jealous of..

i've decided right now at the witching hours of the night that i no longer want to be jealous of anyone else's life. instead i want to create for myself out of sweat and connections and hard work and tender love a life that i would be jealous of. one that is filled with train travels and jet flights and cameras and music and lover(s) and untradable experiences over many wild nights. no more hours spent sitting and wishing, no long allowing the simple to become complicated. i choose now to let boldness and adventure and risk scatter my path in lue of fear, paralyzation and the impossible. come what may but in my daily breaths i will run wild for life and freedom and the unrealized potential of days and nights as yet explored and discovered.