"You are a girl who never looked in the mirror."

Pictures. Lots of pictures today. I could look at pictures, take pictures, monkey with pictures, all day everyday. I am obsessed with capturing that moment...sometimes I think that I should put the camera down and just BE in that moment; I've gotten better with that, the camera is not as attached to my face as it used to be. But I still get that itch. Maybe I can scratch it now by just doing something with those photos.

Speaking of being in that moment...that Moment's Gaze...I am trying to take each little teeny tiny little thing, every happy happenstance, in as I would a deep cleansing breath. I have the sentiment tattooed on my wrist, figure I should try a lot harder to live by it. It's hard, really hard, to not get caught up and bogged down in the day to day. But just because it's hard doesn't mean it's not doable.

I'm sayin'...

Written July 9th, 2008.

I am the kind of dork that likes to type. I like to hear the sound of the keys click-clacking, the fact that I've been able to type without looking at the keyboard since I was about 10 or so. I like to watch the words form quickly, letter by letter across the screen. What was once vast whiteness is now marked with something that I created. Even if it's just an e-mail.

I like writing with a pen better, though. Especially using pens with that richly pigmented ink. I like to watch it sink into the papper, tattooing the pulpy skin of a fresh sheet. I like to imagin writing on my own skin, letting the ink sink in and mingle with my blood. Ink and blood in my veins. Words to spare, sentences forming as quick as the sheen of sweat on a muggy day.

I got your stories. I got your words. I got it all right here...

...yeah. Right here.

Take the rain. Not in waiting for the sun, but as another, different beauty to enjoy about life.

I stood

with my back to the sun.

Open.

You faced me

Sunlit

Held up your arm to wave.

I saw the shadow

of my heart

in the palm of your hand

and grinned.

You came to me.

"How I wish you were here...
we're just two lost souls
swimming in a fishbowl,
year after year...
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.

Wish you were here."

- Pink Floyd

MOTION WITHOUT SOUND (1st draft)

I type
and I stare
sigh
and I backspace
oh good god, oh god, delete
delete delete delete.
Humming hollow
through the pages
of my far too often on holiday brain
is something complete,
rich in texture
heavy with substance
and warm in embrace.
but, where is it really?
my fingers ache often
trace the shape of letters in the air
hoping that just once a black & white word
would hang there
sweetly crisp,
like contrail in the sky...
a wisp of a clue.
my lips form words
my mouth a study of motion
yet without a sound.

I think I will come full circle back to you. It's the being patient for that Moment's Gaze that I'm gonna have a hard time with...

This made me cry...

VIRGO:

A woman I know was invited to a party where she would get the chance to meet her favorite musician, psychedelic folk artist Devendra Banhart. On her last look in the mirror before heading out the door, she decided that the small pimple on her chin was unacceptable, and gave it a squeeze. Wrong move. After it popped, it looked worse. She panicked. More squeezing ensued, accompanied by moaning and howling. Soon the tiny blemish had evolved into a major conflagration. Fifteen minutes later, defeated and in tears, she was nibbling chocolate in bed, unable to bring herself to face her hero with her flagrant new wound showing. The moral of the story, as far as you're concerned: Leave your tiny blemish alone.

We live in bars...and what, and what, and what do you have to say? You live in a: office, a house...a cave? Send me you love, from your perch of regret. I will have fun, but you will forget.

I chose this life.

Take this from me...

I imagine holding my head in my hands, gathering the worry from my skull like dandelion fluff.  Letting it collect on my fingertips and palms, holding it out as an offering and blowing it away, onto the wind. 

Inspiration

...from my friends comes in small, potent doses, just when I need it.  I am a packrat of bits of encouragement, direct or by example; I tend to forget about these little gems but always seem to stumble upon the when I need to hear them again.  Like this one:
 
"And by the way, you don't have a tiny oragami boat.  You have a kayak.  Turn the one oar on its head and use it as a paddle, then you can move forward."

 

It's like your "rules of engagement." Not that kind of engagement, stop freakin' out. I shudder to think of what would happen to this friendship if I came at you with my own version...we never really leave the backyard, do we? 

The worst thing you can do is take me for granted. I just realized...you are well on your way.

Somewhere over the rainbow...
Always on the otherside
the otherside way over there
Never at peace with here
or now
Just then and when and what if I...


The moment you realize the rainbow
leads to your soul
the pot of gold
you can see through the rain
the blinding sun
and realize that life beyond
Is life right here and now.


And it is so much bigger
than good enough

I am of the fish or cut bait variety. I'll leave my line in the water for a very long time...maybe longer than I should. But once I decide that my patience and time is not worth it, I don't care how big the fish is that I am waiting for...I cut bait. Stretch my back out of the kinks that slouching on a dock will give you, crack a huge yawn, and contentedly walk away from the day.

I have no problem chalking one up for a loss, as long as I gave it all that I have.

No.

I like when the moon is 3/4 full...that's when it really seems like the man in the moon is real...true.

In My Mind

I have to be bigger than this...the whispers in the shadows can't get under my skin anymore.  Or at least, I shouldn't let them.
 
Bless.

I know that an emotion is real when I am surprised by it.

Odd, right? Like, I feel these tears slipping from my eyes and I think "what's this...dammit! I just had a feeling...what tha HELL."

It's not that I don't want the feelings, or that I can't feel them...I just spend so much time looking out for myself that when something does waft to the surface, I am caught totally unawares. I am too busy providing you (and more poignantly, myself) with the image that I could care less, but that would require more effort than it's worth, so I can't even be bothered to expend that much energy in caring even less than I already do...sigh I am already bored with this conversation...see what I mean? Well, you maybe get my drift.