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september 20, 2002 put your hands together one more time i woke up this morning when a breeze blew through the window and reminded me of what it's like to wake up out in the open air, sleeping under the sun/moon/stars. it initiated such an intense craving to be in some alpine wilderness -- like the mountains in southern california, so crisp and ridiculously picturesque. or maybe just to wake up in a field somewhere & catch a ride into the next town. wonderful way to begin the day, with the reverberations of vagabond freedom in my mind. |
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september 15, 2002 pearlescent inlay friday night we held a dinner party for omelette's arrival back to seattle. i do adore him -- such a wonderful friend through these past seven years. it's wonderful how, as the years pass, everything tends to shift around a bit but inevitably stay the same. there was a strange moment when i was speaking with the legendary derek danger, both of us performing our usual coquettish duties, when i became perturbed by the "role" to which i have been relegated by so many people. that is, the sort of sex-kitten-tomboy who's around for a good party and a great laugh, but never taken more seriously than that. again, it's on the quick/dirty theme -- if so many people see it in me, is it really something i can change? or is it so intrinsic to my personality, that i should be considered only as a "good time" and nothing more, that it is impossible for me to be anything else to anyone? it is a peculiar state. it isn't that i don't feel appreciated, possibly it could be that i don't feel appreciated completely. or that i strive to keep my perception of everyone a malleable thing, so that they are free to augment it as they'd wish, and that sometimes i feel like i'm not afforded the same openness. if the core of my personality is interpreted as this, clearly the only thing i can change is how much it bothers me when people cannot see past it. and now, chopage:
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september 9, 2002 2 & eight threw a surprise birthday party for one of my favorite people -- elisa. sometimes i think that this whole adventure called "speakeasy" is all about me knowing/loving some incredibly wonderful individuals. as much shit goes around, it is splendid to be working every day with a group of folks that truly care for one another -- have the humor to work hard against the odds & roll with it. i appreciate elisa so much; she has a grounded sense to her that is equal parts sweetness and bullshitless. incredibly creative and humorous and curious and absolutely interested -- i am infinitely more than i would be without her presence. how lucky am i, that i have so many lovelies in my life? each of you, so deliciously astounding; it is important to me that i consistently remind you how terribly essential you are -- to everything. |
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september 8, 2002 press it/seal it our first official, advertised gig since adam has been back from india went fairly well on friday night. a few friends called from different places in the country, wishing me luck -- double yays for sweetness! yesterday was spent diving into a few books, jimmying around with my beetle's engine, and watching my guiltiest pleasure: trading spaces. today, i must head into work and finish several writing projects, just to get them the fuck off my plate, and move on to other things. been kicking around ideas of traveling to isla mujeres -- a little peninsula about twenty minutes away from cancun -- in april or may. i had been thinking about costa rica again, it would be so lovely to roll around on those black sand beaches outside of puerto viejo, and hear the vibrant whir of the jungle. then, there's always thailand. oooooooooooooh yeah. would be nice just to take a month off, sweet perspective. my mother tells me i need to quit being so hard on myself. that means, basically, that i need to chill the fuck out. very easy to say. it is kind of ironic, i suppose, that someone who adores the human connection so thoroughly -- in fact, surmises that it may be at the core of personal fulfillment/happiness -- would engage in antisocial/loner/hermitic habits. peculiar that i love watching/observing people, como fly on the wall, just as much as i dig relating to them. i can't escape the feeling that my craving, my hunger to engage in an incredibly intimate relationship with another is rooted in the selfish -- feeling/wonder/complicity that will keep me anchored in some sense of "reality." but, as the sweetest lovely i know oft reminds me, the very existence of the self/id/ego does not allow for actual selflessness. perhaps there are moments, choices which are rooted in caring only for the happiness/safety of another, but, again, is that caring defined by the self's need for the other individual's continued existence? by definition, "selfless" seems an unattainable state: "having no concern for the self." and, really, what a ridiculous thing with which to wrestle. it's really all about learning how to care without thinking on a direct benefit to one's self. i think i'm getting better at it, but i know there are people in my life who perhaps view me as manipulative, or that i care only for myself, don't care what is going on with other people -- that there is an ulterior motive to my interest. one encounters these individuals throughout life, i suppose, and perhaps it's some sort of radar to either identify the individuals who do the same themselves, or to notice those that have an extreme difficulty in trusting people. maybe it's one in the same. when it gets down to it, i trust easily. i do feel that my need to understand the finer points of the ego is rooted in optimism -- to understand one's self, could, perhaps, help one understand most everyone else. since i was a child, i have expected the "best" of people, which, at times, has resulted in a painful encounter with the cold reality of another's own inability to empathize. "best," as i define it, of course -- sweetness, humor, action without malice, care for another's perspective, unadulterated interest. despite my battles with the hollow, i cannot help my proclivity for hope -- each new person i meet, i am instantly excited, fascinated, and impressed. |
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september 5, 2002 "a little charm and a lot of hunger, that's how most of us begin." devouring. that's perhaps the most apt description for how much i have been reading these past days. i just finished an incredibly expansive, touching novel, dorothy allison's cavedweller. i have long been a fan of her work, her ability to outline the profound as defined by small, every day things. last night, during practice, adam made an offhand comment -- amidst the pontificating and shrewd observation, he pointed out that, "of course, it's hard to let go if you have everything, right?" there is something big that i need to do. i look back at the places i've traveled, i read my journals which outline thoughts, fears, wonder, my obsession with finding a purpose for myself -- perhaps so that all this energy is not, ultimately, for naught. i review myself and i read this account of my past five years, engaging in a different type of journey, exploring a place that i knew little about -- and how much i have learned about life, myself, and what is special to me. ponder my present day-to-day. am i still learning? you need to learn from everything, absolutely. the people with whom i spend my days are incredibly important to me, but it's difficult for me to extend that care to the myriad of dull/needlessly "important" tasks with which i am charged on a daily basis. i dig helping people, this i must remember, this is what qualifies the redundant and turns it into something wonderful. all those tiny to-do's influencing someone else into having a better day. i just had an extremely comforting conversation with my mother. it is good to hear the voice of one who loves you unconditionally reassure you that yes, everything will be okay and no, nobody else has any idea what the fuck is going on, either. |
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september 4, 2002 beauty & truth one of the more sage individual's on the planet compiled this list of guidelines, for assistance in attempting to create one's own moral code. it struck me, needed to be recorded for future reminder.
mood is still in flux, but i can feel that familiar ache in my legs, the dull throb reminding me of my maternal proclivities, little bloody habits. while waiting for the bus tonight, i rang my mother. she is not feeling too well, so i talked with her for awhile, comforted her. she recounted some of her rather erratic emotions this past weekend, and it got us talking about "feeling." my mother has always had her highs & lows -- my father, as well -- so it should be no surprise that i should experience what could most probably be classified as a mild case of manic depression. at least, i think it's mild. she said something to me tonight, about how it is difficult for her to maintain romantic relationships, primarily because one of the most attractive things about her -- her vibrancy, humor, creativity, wonder -- is accompanied by equal parts hermit. she feels that the very reason people are attracted to her is also the reason why they eventually say, "enough!" in my own romantic dalliances, it would be an understatement to say that i had merely experienced a similar situation. it is, seemingly, the cornerstone of both why people love me, and why they can't stand me, as well. an intensity that i have no real way to control, but which contributes largely to my existential curiosity -- to be so confident and in love with life, so connected to everything. . . .and then have it turn on you, almost mocking, so that you see the garishness in the vibrancy, more than a crack in some legendary looking glass, less than the assuredly infinite, empty space accompanying true faithlessness. so, consistently, i feel the need to gauge where i'm at, what i'm feeling -- give into it & adore it, with the understanding that it's brevity is exactly why it is so lovely. change, cherie -- nothing beautiful lasts that long, anyway, right? |
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september 3, 2002 imploding lung (part five, verse six) i had forgotten how quickly i can read. last night, i picked up one of my many unread books, awaiting attention, and finished it within a couple of hours. it was absolutely riveting, and i dreamt of it all night. the book was untamed seas, a tale about a woman's shipwreck experience. it led to ridiculously bizarre dreams -- like the swarm of sharks surrounding the boat were inevitably that old evil cartoon shark, mister jaws, and we eventually drifted to shore next to a pizza & pie parlor and the waitress told me that i could only have lemon meringue, because my hair was a mess. deborah scaling kiley's recount of the experience itself had no such twists of humor, in fact, it was rather terrifying. when i woke up this morning, my spirits continued to be as low as the day before. i hate it when i feel so passionless, so vapid. how i hate what i'm doing but can't define what i need. how there doesn't seem to be any real color to anything -- but scent is still alive & well. god, how i wish depression didn't have such a tight grip. i wonder, will i ever be happy? or, as one dear friend said, will i be continuously searching? i'm so incredibly tired of it, but i do know there is no acceptable end -- just moments of absolute bliss, during which the confusion burns off like a fading firework. do you ever hold your breath for several moments, perhaps a minute, and then slowly release, feel the full power of your lungs, understand why your lungs are there, what they are doing, how perfectly they function -- but only briefly, and then it becomes commonplace and an afterthought and you become distracted, save for the tiny notion gnawing at the back of your mind that you possess something majestic that you often fail to realize? moments like this beg for some galeano:
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september 2, 2002 "peter pumpkinhead came to town, spreading wisdom & cash around" egads, i am a bit sad. i know it is most certainly chemically/cyclically influenced, but it doesn't change how absolutely empty/lonely i feel. common themes:
it just seems so fucking tricky, i guess. over the years, i have transcribed my ebbing/flowing confusion, and sometimes i feel that i get a better handle on it all -- then days/weeks later feel just as fucking powerless/hopeless as i did before -- then back again to some semblance of understanding. and, always, the reverberation of fear -- metallic undertaste to all things. is it ridiculous how often i must remind myself that concentrating on each singular minute limits my ability to grasp the bigger picture? |
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september 1, 2002 yeah, i saw sparks
spent the afternoon clawing my way through the crowds at bumbershoot, with the intention of digging linton kwesi johnson (c'est magnifique!), and i threw a little of the shins in on the side, for good measure. silliness: |
