Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
I am not a writer. I am the type of person who wants to be. My father is that type of person too. I am because he is, maybe he was because his father was. However, despite my lack of talent for writing it still does me good. First of all it feels good. Catharsis (I like to use words like that) through pen on paper, it makes me feel like a deep clearing breath, like when my figurative heart is all torn up and the ship has sailed or I missed the boat or I am late for a very important date.
People reach my words. They walk up and touch them. Not the writers really, not, especially, the good writers. And it is not a self-depreciating thing because I appreciate me, my effort, my spirit of refusal to submit and then sometimes (just sometimes) my submitting.
Mostly I fall short because I try to capture the truth. The elusive truth. The truth you can only experience (for people like me), but cannot write. But I do try. I try until I am tired and exhausted and feel a caffeine-like crash and must sleep or run or eat a lot of food. And when it is all over (whatever 'it' is), it feels better, at least for me and maybe for you too. If you too that is a miracle and I believe in those as hard as I can.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
The common man he wants to grow
But he does not know
What he does not know
He seeks the vestige of his friends
With little faith that hearts will mend
He writes this sobby dribble trash
Making him all more the ass
His hands get rough and head less dense
While wishes and dreams lose all sense
The common man he wants to grow
He tells his Father, he tells the road
The common man I thought was not me
But I did not see, I did not see
The common man he wants to grow
But he does not know
He does not know
Thursday, June 17, 2010
A food-community on the old LiveJurnalz is accepting applications for moderators. This was part of my application submission:
Q: Why should we pick you out of everyone who applied?
A: This week I baked eleven loaves of bread, studied thai cooking ingredients, read My Life in France AND the new Bourdain book (medium raw) (twice), stole a case of wine off a boat, and replanted my balcony herb garden. I know the difference between this community and (another, similar community), and what is appropriate for each. I think people who only want traffic to their personal blog are a pain, that's not community. I believe that excessive use of the term "om nom nom" is a crime. Food porn is exactly that - it's porn. It should arouse and inspire, and occasionally be slightly disturbing. And lastly, I know how to create a f***ing lj-cut. I've been using lj for 10 years.
Monday, June 14, 2010
I tumbled about you, I honor you :o)
a few months ago one of the greatest influences and friends and loves of my life, Melissa Sue Stanley packed up her life and moved to Switzerland. To a tiny town nestled in the mountains filled with the most amazing cheeses, breads, etc.
we stay in touch as one does with a close friend. We write letters, we skype, we email and facebook status update and share a blog exclusively for keeping up with one another. I do not typically share these letters on this blog because it is such a very different format.
Dear Melissa I miss you greatly you. You have taken with you to this new land a piece of me. One that I was happy to give up to see what you could mold it into. Whisper it secrets and great truths and then I can come pick it up or you can mail it to me and I will be better again.
The year has been a carousel of transition, but it stops every now and again and we can try to stand on our feet and see what change has transpired. And if we remain still enough we an actually see some of our struggle, our pain, or losses spin off with the wind.
Letting go....oof....not the best thing I do and yet it has become one of my strongest lessons and best assets Ive ever acquired. Of course I am still learning.
Layers and layers of messaging. This is written for Melissa, for Maggie, for my Father and Mother and Sister, and for you. You know who you are right? Beyond our limited capacity to see and experience the world is a that great, great open universe in which we are all connected. Doors open and close, carousels start and go. We are all full of fits and starts and perhaps I am now embarking on my next.
Just listen to the melody of the carousel, get lost for a minute, step carefully and hold someones hand, smile, it will be all too soon before the ride is over.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Domesticity Isn’t Pretty
My father told me he would always help me find my way home. I have reached a point in my life where I would like to or perhaps need to build my own home. I miss the idea that used to visit me of bringing to life my own family. It seems to have taken a temporary vacation. Tickets for a return trip are scarce. I suppose that is what happens when we deconstruct our identities. I begin to see a sad boarded up house, wood planks blocking the windows, broken down car in the driveway, weeds overtaking everything.
I used to keep a list in my wallet titled “Good Thought: In Case of Emergency.” I pulled that out tonight and it read:
- Keep playing the game, just keep playing the game.
- Driving down the highway, in traffic, do not switch lanes. Have patience, things will begin to move at the right speed again.
- Listen to Amsterdam music, close your eyes and go there.
- Sing everything you know.
- Write until you hands cannot work anymore.
- Run until your legs cannot work anymore.
- Think of all the people who love you, write down their names and why.
- Remember you have to let go a little sometimes if you want people to come back.
- Go to a bookstore.
I realized I’d written that list almost 10 years ago when I was just coming to terms with my sexual identity.
I am not a crier. I wish I could. Thoughts of my family can sometimes induce tears, but they are almost always stifled by an unconscious resistance. As I read through the list I began relating to that scared and pressurizing feeling I felt at 15, eyes welled up, maybe I let one tear escape, sniffle, sniffle, cough and resume control.
I then thought of that home again, seeing now piles of lumber and hammers, nails and screw (all neatly organizes of course). The silhouetted figures of a husband and a kid and a dog (okay, Samson was definitely there too).. One piece of furniture to move in, my first real kitchen table.
My hands are ready for the labor. I am ready to make the first strike now. Bruising, scraped, swollen thumb be damned (I am not too good at the construction thing), but it will be my own home.
And you will come to visit. Will you come to visit? And you will sit at my kitchen table. And maybe you can help me build it stronger, make improvements here and there. And you, you will give it the name ‘home.’ And all of you will bring me home..
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
potato! potato! potato!
it started as an experiment, but I have to say I will happily dig my hands in the dirt this fall to see what bulbous rooty delight will come forth.
shhhh....they are being kept and watched by Lucille until they are ready.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
-Brad Newsham, All the Right Places
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
The most profound exclamation can only be truth. Truth in yourself. The expression, "work is love made visible", has never had so much meaning. You must live gloriously.
(Yes, I just quoted Rand and Gibran in the same paragraph. Fuck you if you don't like it)
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
five years ago you (perhaps more) you gave me Atlas Shrugged to read, I got through a quarter before something....nonetheless I marked it up and now I begin again. Enter Dagny Taggart:
"She thought: For just a few moments--while this lasts--it is all right to surrender completely--to forget everything and just permit yourself to feel. She thought: Let go--drop the controls--this is it." "This is why the wheels have to be kept going, and this is where they're going" (Rand, p. 20)
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
you brought me the bookcase
it is silly, but if feels like when you went off to college and left me all of your amazing collection of drawings and massive amounts of Elfquest stuff, I had no idea how close you actually were
Im going to try and see the world like that and then it will be
I dont have a good image to post with that thought, Ive already started writing my first letter to you, I will be a good pen pal I promise
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Creator gathered all of Creation and said, “I want to hide something from the humans until they are ready for it. It is the realization that they create their own reality.” The eagle said, “Give it to me, I will take it to the moon.” The Creator said, “No. One day they will go there and find it.” The salmon said, “I will bury it on the bottom of the ocean.” “No. They will go there too.” The buffalo said, “I will bury it on the Great Plains.” The Creator said, “They will cut into the skin of the Earth and find it even there.” Grandmother Mole, who lives in the breast of Mother Earth, and who has no physical eyes but sees with spiritual eyes, said, “Put it inside of them.” And the Creator said, “It is done.”