poetry....

Believe in the limitless.

Create something you care about.

You can watch,

stagnant,

waiting.

Or you can move.

Press forward.

Chase the dream;

an idea that cannot get away.

Run.

-Claudine Woodard

Watching a Netflix doc about Muslim punks. Not too bad. The glass of wine is nice reminding me of just how long it has been since I have smelled the sweat and felt the heat of a live show. I miss vinyl but I know that you just can't hold on to anything too tightly. Not people, not jobs, not even yourself. Eventually it all fades to the great beyond and these days I am questioning everything.I ate meat last week for the first time in 16 years. I have considered all things, ending a life, beginning a new one. Yes, being married and in love is a glorious thing but I feel at odds with society. I feel at odds with the system and yet blind allegiance makes the money. what would I do if I was poor? I mean really poor... really really fucking dirt on the street poor. i would do what anyone does... survive.  It can all go in a dust cloud. I have lived long enough to realize this. Work hard, play hard, be a weekend warrior... what else is there? Get the money, get the house, live long and old and content... In the end does the great understanding come? When we are face to face with our end do we see the truth? Does the end ever really come? You see I was raised on the time of the end. I was raised with that glorious prospect of the kingdom and then I had to accept it wasn't real. I have seen enough to know revolution is an illusion, things reset themselves to the status quo in a matter of years. Change the world? That's the talk of rainbows....

Birds of the desert

A person tends to wonder what longing really means. We are late-comers in terms of evolution but the landscape keeps changing. There are no boundaries for those who can fly but left on the side of the road is the windfall for vultures and the years will continue to pass. A therapist cannot understand why you don't want children. A 7% bonus merges on the back of the antfarm you live in and everyone is hungry. Netflix numbs, facebook numbs, instagram reminds you how pretty your enemies are. But facing the steady stream of the winds with my blue wings something tells me I will survive. It crashes, it crashes, it crashes, the images and memories, lost. Is there water in the desert?

time

I listened to 'Flesh and Blood' for the first time in about 3 years this morning. It was a glorious dawn as I waited for the bus; frigid crisp air kissing my cheeks and the intoxicating wash of midnight blue fading to the pale of early morning. I love Bryan Ferry's voice. I hadn't heard 'Oh, Yeah' in so long and I remembered how much I love his fluttery tenor.

I can't wait for Jackie to get home. Marriage does strange things to the passing of time. The day of the wedding was a rapid fire blur, fast as a shooting star we were kissing in the church and then drinking wine in the hotel room. Last night was the first night I have had to spend away from him since we got married and it feels as though I haven't laid eyes on him for a week.

Time passes in strange ways these days. Reading 'The Grapes of Wrath' at work made my breaks stretch out considerable but now that I have the blasted iPhone my break goes by in an instant. Is this the coil of technology? Is it speeding up time? Is marriage speeding up time?

All I want is sleep right now...

jukebox

you've got this new head filled up with smoke and i've got my veins all tangled close to those jukebox bars you frequent, the safest place to hide.

a long night spent with your most obvious weakness, you start shaking at the thought. you are everything i want, because you're everything i'm not...

and we lay together, just not too close.

how close is close enough?

i just want to break you down so badly.

in the worst way.

my inarticulate, store-bought, hangover hobby-kit it talks... and it says "you, oh, you are so cool." you're scissor-shaped across the bed.

you are red.

violent red.

you hollow out my hungry eyes.

you hollow out my hungry eyes...

just not too close...

how close?

how close is close enough...

-louis

Thursday, No Answers

Can you feel it in the dead of night?
I thought of releasing the thetans Friday night and felt a sense of horror. The request to let go of the demons haunted my mind. The webcast that drove me insane. "I can hear the ocean when I say your name."

End of May...

Losing a grip on the fog and the grip on the City skyline I forgot about my years in SF. Last weekend I was there again, basking in the gloriousness of music and City sounds. Cafe Du Nord has always been my favorite venue in San Francisco. Once a speakeasy in the 1920s, one descends a red-carpeted staircase to another world of opulent red walls and a deep mahogany bar. There was an amber warmth to the lighting and I felt a sense of homecoming. Everything seemed somehow smaller than it was in my imagination. It had been almost ten years since I was below the City street to see a band, and what a band to see!

The Ocean Blue have always held a place of nostalgic tenderness in my heart and seeing them once more after 12 years was truly sweet. Those fragile spider's web thick with dew-drop jewels of memories cling to my heart. For all its misty frailty, the memory pierces. It holds your heart. It warms your heart. Music that enchanted me as a younger girl entrances my mind and I feel a wholeness and a healing.

It is impossible to truly explain what home means, but San Francisco was such a place for many years. I saw not the times of loneliness and confusion. Or if I did, the loneliness and confusion took on a gleaming hue because feeling those things in your 20s is unlike any other time. As the plane drifted up I looked back through my window, touched my fingers to my lips and blew the City a kiss. I will always love you.

Back in the sun of Orange County, summer's easy embrace has opened her arms again. Our skin will be kissed by the gold of the sun. Our clothes slip off our skin with ease, muscles tighten and release in the thick, warm balm of night.