Wednesday, August 29, 2012 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 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


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.