I can't wait!!!!

This I call my sailboatThese are all my friendsThat beyond's the shorelineAnd that is where it ends
High and dry are we?
Stinging sighs the salt airTaste it on your skinStomach's sense of flyingThe feeling of the wind
High and dryHigh and dry are we?
This I call my sailboatThese are all my friendsThat beyond's the shorelineAnd that is where it ends
High and dryHigh and dry are we?

The Coffee Cantata

Life, love and the pursuit of spiritual enlightenment. What a marvelous afternoon it was at Paradise Perks. I have abandoned my blog for too long. I must remedy this. What's new world? It is a wonderful feeling to no longer worry about whether or not I am "seen". In the end I only want this from the All Seeing, All Knowing.  I will be in San Francisco next week. The Ocean Blue is playing at Cafe Du Nord and I am going to be able to attend both sets. This is going to be like a miracle, a brilliant fantasy. The music means so much to me and I have not been to Cafe Du Nord in years. It was once a speakeasy in the 1920s. A staircase leads you down below the street level to a luscious lounge with red velvet hangings and baroque furniture. The is a small ball room with a black and white checkered floor that remind me of the final scene in Twin Peaks when Agent Dale Cooper see the backwards-talking ghost of Laura Palmer. This will be a great homecoming.

I think of so many things as the holiday approaches. This has been a hard year. Now my mom is moving away from the house I have known for 11 years and it truly pulls on my heart strings. Last night the coffee from my writing group keep me aake and I kept obsessing on 2004 and the early days in San Jose. So many images flood my mind from that fall and winter. I remembered the way the icy cold would cut through my stockings as I walked the dark walk through the parking lot of the train station. I remember the oat cakes and bad coffee I would buy at the magazine stand at the train station and the December issue of Roling Stone with Lindsay LOhan on the cover, so fresh faced and nubile. I remember Howard Stern railing against the FCC on my discman and playing Warren Zevon as he bid his approaching farewell to mainstream media. My heart hurts at those times and I feel the psychic burden of memeory. I have struggled with memory for so many years and yet my unconcious mind was filled with so much joy. It is interesting that in the concious world I was feeling such pain yet when I fell asleep my dreams reflected a happy place to come. I dreamed it was next semester and I was in Lisa's class. I was creative and successful. Jack was by my side and we were happy and in love. THe great thing was that this was not a memory dream, a looking back on happier times, this was a projection of the future. Then I turned over on my side and cuddled in close to Jack and felt so much love. It was amazing. The begging for crumbs of memories was over. I was able to curl my arms around Jack and feel his safe, warm, gentle sleeping body next to mine and I thanked God for sending me such love and light.

I must stay focused on the daily miracles and let go of old grief. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is the future.

thinking

thinking so much i tend to want to burst. why must i obsess on time. i think it must be the fall, it gives time for reflection. i am a reflective person by nature and here i am, unable to write with a pen for fear of it's physical obviousness. but i can type and not a soul suspects. i like that the window is in view, the sight of the trees beckons me with the many shades of brown and orange. last night we read a poem about san jose and it still brought a point home. i don't want to be a gloomy gus and i think it is just my fatigue talking.

he is so beautiful. i don't need to know his past because he is my future. i want us to travel, see the world. he is my blessing from heaven. i'm finally in love again. it takes away my pain and my breath.

a decade under the influence

it's so hard to get a firm grasp on ten ears, to completely digest what two pentameters of years can mean. i was goth then. i saw some old pictures with my raven colored hair and a satin black corset. my mom and step-dad are getting a divorce. goodbye house in san jose. goodbye cinnamon rolls and coffee. goodbye to old memories of my cell phone and louis. so much happened there. so many years make me sick. i don't want to look at old pictures, i just have to convince myself to start taking new ones.

new is good. i am in love again and it has been nearly a year and a half, jack is wonderful. my heart is just so heavy at the years. i treasure them. i curse them. they pass and grasp and hold me. a decade and i will never know. i will never understand what happened in 2004 because i guess i am just not meant to. it's not important now.

but i will miss that house. i will miss the train station. i have no reason to go there now. it is a sorry and sad state.

blog, blog, bog... always waiting and hoping it drove me insane. i was feasting on where you want to be crumbs. scraping the vinyl plate with my finger and never getting any closer, cloaking with metaphors like heathcliff and peter parker. it is better now.

i won't ever know.

i can't let it matter anymore.

ticking clock

Ticking clock, setting sun
time, oh time
loves everyone
those who linger
those who wait
for patient time
and a lover's fate
ticking clock, moments pass
time, oh time
like liquid glass
I see through moments
that spread to days
transparent intentions
and a dream that stays...
time, oh time
loves everyone.

Floating into the morning..

Taking a cue from am unnamed personage that has stirred an alarming fondness in me I have decided to start rising very, very early. I remember Anne Rice's Louis taking particular note of the last sunrise he ever saw...he watched it as though it was his first. I have always been fond of watching the opening and closing of the day...
Sunrise was likened to coming closer and closer to God's kingdom in my mind as a youth. I thought I could see God's promise of eternal life in a paradise illustrated by the gilded purple clouds. There was always something magical about 5am.

After watching black and white television for hours in the middle of the night when I was 7 years old I noticed the blackness fade to a blanched blue through the window. I clutched my cat and felt a deep sense of relief. At last it was light out. At last fears disappeared. But as I grew a couple years older and the insomnia remained I grew to love the blackness. I could draw, write poems, being enthralled by the petticoats and bouffants of the 1950s television shows that ran all night. Something about black and white television always made me feel so safe...

The tea that was supposed to enable a peaceful repose only worked for a few hours. The next thing I knew it would be 1 in the morning and I was wide awake, eager to turn on the lights in the family room, let my cat sit on my lap and obsess over the world of black and white...the soft tones of endless shades of grey. Pencils skirts and petticoats, Dobie Gillis and Donna Reed... I would drift in and out a little bit through the night, sponge rollers in my hair to try and imitate Tuesday Weld at school the next day... and I would sleep a little bit...

And in my dreams I was in a poodle skirt sipping a malt with my steady...someone faceless held my hand as the saxophone played on the jukebox... and in my dreams I was black and white... and endless shades of grey...

The night-tide glow of electronics still fascinates me.. but now it is a computer screen or an ipod... It isn't a world of malt shops, do-wop, hand in hand going steady forever...on TV

older years enticed me with a couple centuries prior... organs filled my mind, masks in the catacombs and a voice that could never be forgotten. The Angel of Music coaxed me out of bed. I embraced the feeling of a ghost leading me down the gloomy hallway as the hem of my nightgown slid along the carpet underfoot... I'd stare at the moon and see an angel's face singing a melancholy song. I was enamored of the shadows. I was in love with the sound of the train running through town at 4 am...

There was a tear in the sleeve of my blue night  gown with the peach ribbons...it was never repaired...

I am going to get up early from now on...