sToRyDrOpS

Spring Globes, Pale Ballerinas, Tuesday Nights and Wind Up Keys

2011-05-10T22:48:00.000-07:00

It started with tears. I knew it was time...

There were signs. I had three new movies gathering dust on my coffee table. There are 7,868 songs in my iTunes library and nothing was doing it for me. The bookmarks on my favorite sites have gone unvisited. And reading, or attempting to read the books in my library have turned into a pathetic round of speed-dating.

"I've been working all day, I'm tired; and I'm not mentally alert enough for Smith. I'm happy with Handler, but I need a little more than chic fluff. I'm a bit frightened at how much I identify with Palaniuk right now. I don't have the new Sedaris, which is just embarrassing. Thoreau reminds me of college and makes me feel guilty because I can't concentrate. I'm feeling way too self-loathing and melancholy to delve into my ultimate love-Neruda. And second that for Rumi. He can be romantic at times, but it's mostly his timeless wisdom that kicks my ass every time I read him, and that's not really good for me right now either because I'm feeling like I don't know anything, and reading about his infinite wisdom on EVERYTHING will just make me feel worse.

That's when the tears came. Or maybe, that's how I ended up in my art studio...

I don't remember which happened first, but let's continue...

On a random, Tuesday night I sat down at StOrYdRoPs and slowly looked around...

Waxy cRaYoNs, glasses of glitter, striking images, witcheepoo mugs filled with Sharpies, jars congested with buttons, vibrant paints- some dry, some sticky and smelly and new satin, pastel colored ribbons; neglected, never used, sloping on the edges of the desk like pale ballerinas in a coma...

And me. Traveling sideways on a dark purple steam engine train.

-it's kind of fun...=)

I remember a time- not too long ago, when I just couldn't wait for my life to catch up with my vision. My dreams, my thoughts... It was intensely frustrating.

And now here I am, on that train; a bit jet-lagged-but still riding in wonder, and too tired to understand just what the fuck I'm doing.

So now I surrender.

I've loosened my bonnet, and downed half of my bourbon; my arms are folded across my suitcase, supporting my chin; and I drift in and out of sleep, watching the new landscapes cHaNgE.

Pink sky, Blue Sky, Purple Sky, Red Orange Sky.

The snapshots of sky pictures change from view master to view master, as the train pushes on; and all I want to do is

back to sleep.

Underneath it all I'm grateful...

Underneath it all I'm scared...

Underneath it all I see that my life already has cHAnGeD, and this is only the beginning...

I've fallen into a Spring globe.

It's warm and snowing WiLdFlOwErS. The flower petals pelt like tin against the trees, and tink with the wind, like wind-up keys that never find their door....

E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g-i-s-H A P P E N I N G-s-o-f-a-s-t!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Maybe it's too bright. Maybe I'm not ready. Maybe the train is going too fast. Maybe I'm going the wrong way. Maybe I forgot my sunblock. Maybe I need more time. Maybe I'm doing this wrong. Maybe I left the water running. Maybe it's too late. Maybe it won't work. Maybe there is no Conductor. Maybe I'm mad.

MaybemaybeMaybeMaybeMaybEMayBeMAYBEmAyBemaybEmAYBEmAybe

(insert panic mode)

Where is my shaydow? I like my shaydows. They makes me feel safe

Okay, *deep breath*.

I'm back...

I'm here..

And so are you.

And this is StOrYdRoPs.

You won't need an umbrella.

Just some cRaYoNs and a lot of rubber duckies.

We'll do this together.

Eager, Pensive, Scared, and Ready.

I'm ready...

Are you?

*sprinkle sprinkle*

Lucinda Fonts, Vain Illusions, Unrelenting Hurricanes and Plastic Boots

2011-03-31T21:28:00.000-07:00

Wow...that was a ride...

Do you want to start again?

Let's start again...

*I miss you*

So much has happened.

I love where I am right now...

I knew the wind tunnel was coming. I stared at it with my glittered, purple binoculars from five continents away.

"It's going to rain..it's going to rain...a TERRIBLE storm is coming", I told myself as I laced up my red plastic boots and hid under a yellow rubber ducky coat.

And at the same time-in the middle of being scared shitless -I was happy.

I needed the rain. I needed a storm to wash away this monotonous, somnambulistic, humdrum, spin cycle of an existence...

I became an unrelenting hurricane.

I drowned in my emotions, and then I was still.

I sometimes collect Nature's gifts: shells, rocks, branches...but ultimately I do not care for what has risen to the surface.It is the seeping, fleeting result from the volcanoes below.

*I would rather dive down and swim in the Kelp forests of my mind*

So, we shall start again, but slowly this time.
Getting to know one another once more.
For this is a different world. I have risen like the Dawn, on a new horizon.
I am a different person, and so are you, dear reader.

So thank-you for coming back.

I don't know where I want to start.

I just know that I want to-and that's something.

I'm beginning with this post.

I might just put up random images here and there...
-feelings and thoughts from my travels.

I've been busy as f**k lately.
I'm still working on finding the time to get back to this place.

I've given up on the vain illusion of perfection. It does not exist, and if it did, what would there be to strive for?

No, I'm going to take a different approach.

I'm going to backpack my sToRyDrOpS, which means that I will post shards of my life.

Words. Pictures. Feelings. Songs.

Life is just too big and glorious to mold down to a size 14 Lucinda font.

You deserve more than that.

And boy, am I going to give it to you...

*sprinkle sprinkle*

Small U's, Mind Defects. Squeaky Cages, and Feral Cats

2010-12-29T00:31:00.000-08:00

When you have had enough. When it doesn't matter anymore. When you are no longer afraid of releasing the atomic chaos that is brewing inside of you. When all bets are off.
When you willingly stand in your ugliness and do not care to hide. When four million drums are pounding in your mind and the cage of your heart is nothing but a loose, squeaky cage that smells like a dead battery, and you are no longer hungry for the things that are bright and shiny and sparkly.
When the wiring of your mind defects, your eyes are hissing like a feral cat, and every twitching impulse is to destroy whatever created you...

Yeah, I had a bad year.

But it's getting better. And while I am nowhere near the galaxy of surrender, or letting my guard down, even for a millisecond; I would still like to acknowledge that in the past few weeks I have been surrounded with an abundance of love.

I have some fucking amazing people in my life. Some who are in the middle of their own wars as well, but still take time to come aboard and row with me, and hear me, and shut the fuck up with me, and show me sides of things- slivers of thought and reflection, some birthed from their pain, some collected from their travels; and things that we have discovered together in present moments.

I have not been bored.

I feel like I'm resetting, which is fitting for retrograde.

Reset. Reboot. Reflect.

Dear universe (small u), I have not forgotten a single thing. We still have business. It would be very unwise for you to overlook the underdog, but I'm not here to educate you. I'm just simply re-stating that it is ON, and even in my blissful moments, it has never stopped being ON.

There is a rage inside of me that could take out all of Saturn's rings...

But maybe that was the purpose.

Maybe I was asleep.

Maybe I need this fire.

(and who are you to tell me what I need?)

Okay. I will say that at this moment that I am feeling more alive than I have ever felt.

I am burning, pulsating, and vibrating like the surface of the Sun.

And I am grateful for that.

*sprinkle sprinkle*

Step 3: Acquire a Villianous Sidekick

2010-11-27T11:30:00.000-08:00

"It does not take much strength to lift a hair, it does not take sharp eyes to see the sun and the moon, it does not take sharp ears to hear a thunderclap."
- Master Sun

SoOoOooooo Universe,

Did you think I went away? Did you think I would just forget about the grave injustices that I have suffered, which preempted this war? Well I didn't. I've been in search of my villainous sidekick.

Meet Katoomba. Two pounds of hyperactive Calico/Tortie dynamite. She is undergoing extensive training at Fort Five and exceeding our highest expectations. We have just finished repairing the west wing, and we're almost done interpreting her elaborate instructions to build the machines of termination that she has requested.

I still don't know how we're going to get 2,000,000 polar bear claws for the CO2 rockets, but that's not your concern. Your main concern should be fear right now. Katoombish fear. She's fast. She's ferocious. She's foxy. And I would not want to be her enemy.

It doesn't have to be this way you know. I'm actually trying to help you Universe. All you need to do is surrender. Amend the ruthless grievances with the five terms that I have stated, throw in some aromatherapy candles (the NICE ones. Not the crappy cheap ones that smell like synthetic car fresheners) and a treasure chest full of colorful catnip filled toys, and I'll look the other way. It's that simple.

We won't be friends. You won't get e-vites for my birrffday parties. All won't be forgiven, but I will put my feline bazooka down; and we'll all go about our business. I think that's fair.

I also think you suck and don't know what you're doing. I think you created something completely by accident, which is bigger than you, and you don't know how to manage. I think you should step down and let Jupiter have a go at things, but that's not what we're discussing here.

Oh, hang on, the biocide is ready for Katoomba's bamboo shoots.

I'll also have you know that we have designed special kitty headphones which play a stream of my journal entries to get her up to speed with the astronomical ass-whooping on the horizon. I have also played with garage band and came up with some pretty cool techno back beats with random words like PuMMeL PLanETs, ..CoSmIc FiRebaLLs...MooN MuTiLaTIoNS...sWaLLoW StArDuSt...

That was fun.

Oh you're going to get it Universe. Me and Katoomba are going to beat you senseless, and all that will be left is a constellation of her pointy kitty ears and my middle finger.

It's on.....so on...

*sprinkle (explosive poisoned bamboo shoot in a CO2 rocket) sprinkle*

Step 2: "Keep Alliances Strong"

2010-11-22T01:45:00.000-08:00

"Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat." - Sun Tzu

High-Five War: Day 6.
"Captain's Log..."
I've met with a few of my alliances this week.
I needed to visit them in person to break down several points.
>The acute reason for this war.
>Why their services are needed.
>Where their talents can shine.
>The strategies behind such endowments.
>And why I am eternally in their debts for helping me to annihilate the Universe.

I think it went well...

Mazo told me to shut up, but continues to look out for things that I don't know that I need. He's a bit of a loose cannon, driven by passion and emotion. An excellent fighter. Always submerged in a battle darker than mine.

Christina came over in a flash when I went a little......c R a Z y....and calmed me down with empowering war paint. Brushed with rage, glowing like a Phoenix and drying with the memory of an elephant. Eternal. Humble. And Wise.

Rat Girl heard me when I didn't say anything. She always does that. An excellent Aquarian decoder and translator. She is fluent is many languages, but prefers Rat, Stolzian, and ancient dialects from the Unikai. She knows me, sometimes more that I know myself. I hate that. I hate her for it. And I love her. My friend...

Blueberry did a drive-by and brought me pretty little things, wrapped in a satchel which promised a good night's sleep. She mushed my sad head and hushed my rambling secrets. She also came over with no intention of staying a moment longer, which made me want to hand over the keys.

Cody. My War General in the East, has been forming further alliances, and gathering troops-of a questionable, and not-yet-approved nature. I have insisted that he await further instructions, but his only response thus far has been, "POW...POW POW POW POW....POW POW POW POW."

In this position I completely see how the decision was reached.

I am also touched and pleased with the letters coming in from the Land of Iniquity. Mr. Id has proven to be an exceptional General. Playing on the keys of confused lackeys, while Robin the Carpenter threatens to boil them up and spank them with a rubber chicken whip if they don't wise up.

Within the correspondence there have been plans made to strengthen and keep the Iniquitous borders strong, healthy and persevering in this time of loss. We are all hoping to make amends with our Australian friends, to whom we might have offended with our repulsion to Vegemite, Egg Hamburgers, and Abba songs.

Hopefully these efforts will be successful and we will be able to move on to "The Aussie Extraction in Beijing" Project.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves....

Alliances have been formed and nurtured.

Step 2 is complete.

*sprinkle sprinkle*

Intermediates and Letters: Both High and Low

2010-11-18T09:19:00.000-08:00

Dear Intermediate,

It was so nice meeting you yesterday. I have got to get a pair of those sexy ass boots! I'm still recovering a bit from the bourbon. I'd try the hangover recipe that you recommended but I don't think sessil wood grows on Earth.
Anyway, please pass these letters on to both sides for me, and let's hang again soon. Thank-you for confirming the Insignificant/Indifferent theory. And I'd love to see the Rust Forests sometime.

*sprinkle sprinkle*
Shayde

Dearest Mephistopheles,

I appreciate your interest in participating in the High-Five War. Your reputation has preceded you, and I'm honored that you wish to collaborate with me. I do, however have a few concerns.
First and foremost, I do not declare war everyday. In thirty-six years, there have only been two other instances where I have had to take matters into my own hands. Those decisions were not made lightly. I am very close to this. It's a personal matter and I selfishly do not feel like sharing the impending victory. You have been known to take all of the glittery glam in the past. You understand.
And secondly I do not see how your skills match your offer. This is a Universal war and most of your accomplishments lie within the realms of Earth. Furthermore, I am not comfortable with the price of my soul while it's still in such good condition.
On the other hand, I have been quite impressed with the work that you have done with some of Hollywood's shining starlets. I know you cannot name your clients, so lets say I've kept a close eye on D_m_ Mo_re, Sop_ia Lo_en, Im_n, and Ja_e Sey_ou_e, and I know that I'll want a few vials of that Necronomicon juice in about twenty years. So the best I can do is keep your resume on file until then, and if something urgent comes up I will let you know. Thanks again.

*Diabolical Sprinkles*
Shayde

Dear Celestial Heavens,

I received your dirty scroll and don't understand a word of it. The penmanship looks like talon scratches from a bird. I asked The Intermediate to read it aloud and almost went deaf from the high-pitched screeching. I can only recognize this as an affirmation of war. I am therefore, left with no choice, but to initiate Step 2.
Given the nature of your style I do not expect further clarity on your tele-scream. I get that you work in mysterious ways, and now you will respect my ways, which will not be a mystery, but rather a huge ball of fire aimed straight-at-you, and who, or whatever attempts to get in my way as I take the Universe down.

*War Sprinkles*,
Shayde

The High-Five War - Step 1: The Declaration

2010-11-16T16:44:00.000-08:00

Prologue: They rode mostly in silence to the airport. He glanced over occasionally, afraid to disrupt the calm storm that had become her face. Murky mascara streams met eyeliner stains. Her eyes transformed into faraway opals of cooling lava. She looked straight ahead at the white dashes, frittering away on the freeway; knowing that time will soon slow to an indolent yawn within the hour.
There were kisses and hugs and promises and love, before he disappeared behind the jolting chaos of overweight suitcases, numbered gates, and E-tickets. She waved with a numb, shell of an arm until she could no longer see him. And then turned around, looked up at the sky and said, "Alright Universe....let's dance."

Dear Universe,
I have been very patient with you. I have conceded your storms and all-too-frequent tornadoes. I have done my best to scrape up reserves of resilience, which were depleted a long time ago. And I still got up each and every time.
I have stretched my faith to respect the astounding nature of your cosmos, which is based on cryptic mysteries, conundrums, and sometimes even humorous mystification.
But I have had enough. This is the end of the line. It stops here.
You want a piece of me? You want to play?
Fine, then this is war.
That's right, w a r.
Physically I may only be a grain of stardust to you, but I'll have you know- I am a red giant with a hydrogen storm inside of me that will burn for billions of years and swallow galaxies whole. I wear comets for socks just so my little tootsies can stay warm.
If you do not deliver the five terms that I am sending to you as a cosmic bitch slap then so help me, I will...wait, let me put this banana down...

Then so help me, I will be left with no choice but to annihilate everything.
Do you hear me? E V E R Y T H I N G !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The whole shebang.
I remember having a similar issue like this four years ago.
Remember Pluto? Yeah, that was me. Only you won't be as lucky.
What's the matter Universe? Why so quiet all of a sudden?
Too busy confusing the hell out of the masses and guffawing at their prayers and wishes to give me an answer?
That's alright. I'm no longer looking for answers.
I AM the answer now.
And shit is going to change around here.
Starting now. You've been served.

On Like It's Never Been,
*sprinkle sprinkle*

"You Realize Of course That This Means War."

2010-11-12T15:14:00.000-08:00

Tasmanian Devils, Fort Blocks, Grumpy Soldiers, and Book Choices

2010-08-12T16:21:00.000-07:00

The Universe heard my despondent rant and sent me a cloud of copper butterflies to carry away my grievances. I was heard =)
It's so easy to forget that the opulent Nebulas are above you when you're wading through a winter of discontent.
So now that some time and breathing space has opened up, I'm trying to draw from it and create.
But I still feel stuck.
My words are uninspired, little grumpy soldiers.
They're not talking to each other and it's very dark.
It reeks of napalm and scorched creativity.
It looks like the aftermath of a war that I have been sleeping through.
My words used to laugh with me and tickle my ears. We would go for walks and swirl through the world with our secrets. I would come back drenched in epiphanies and similes that settled across the page as smoothly as butter melting into the grains of an English muffin.
Well that English muffin is stale now and rotting in a foreign land. Words like pRoSe and ProDuCtiViTY are dying next to WeLL-WriTTeN and CoNTeNt.
My words are pierced by dull pens, covered in paper cuts and gasping for their last breaths at Fort Block.
Alright enough metaphors. I shouldn't be wasteful.
Who knows how long they'll be around?
I guess I'll just pick up a book. I've got plenty of those.
If you don't have anything good to write, then shut up and read.
I won't read anything too good though.
I'll stay away from Jhumpa Lahiri. She makes me want to break my pencils and never look back. Every book that that bitch has written has hurt my feelings beyond repair, and her beauty just adds an extra sting to her slaps.
Okay, that narrows the book choices down to hum drum writing by a commonplace person.
That shouldn't be too hard to find.
At least this will give me something to do.
J. is so damn busy he's a Tasmanian blur.
And I just watch as this blur whirls past me, while my life seems to be going in slow motion.
Everyday I get the dreaded question.
"How was your day?"
I'm really starting to run out of creative answers.
I could be completely honest with, "My day was the same as yesterday, only I finished a carton of soy milk and then...I opened a new one. I was going to just leave the rest of the milk in the carton, but there was no room left in the fridge, so then I had a larger helping of Grape Nuts than I usually do. And then I...had a later, and lighter lunch because of that...original fact."
Or I could just lie a little bit which sounds more like, "My day was fine."
I'd love to be so busy that I don't even have time to answer the question.
I could just shoo it away as I clackety-clack-clack the keys.
A code of rhythms that produce the most astounding and profound combination of words and typographical symbols ever created.
Writing that is so powerful that it blinds the weak.
And J. will look at me with ink ribbons stains on my face, (which don't really belong in this fantasy because I'm really writing on a computer) and understand with a nod before he transforms into a Tasmanian blur again.
The girl can't write. But she can still dream.
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Copper Butterflies, Lost Drinks, Phone Booths, and 410 Rabbits

2010-08-11T16:34:00.000-07:00

410 days into this journey and I've gone so far that I don't recognize where I am, how I got here, or how to find my way out. I am draped in utter fascination and confusion. Everything seems punctuated with urgency, yet I'm not getting the meaning. I'm lost. I'm lost. I'm lost. I'm lOsT. I'm LosT. I'm LOSt. I'm lost. I'm LoSt. I'm lOSt. There. I admit it. Not turn on the Goddamn lights. Show me an invisible cat. Give me a key. Or a drink. Or a mushroom. Or a rabbit. Give. Me. SOMETHING. Something tangible. That I can touch. That I can understand. That I can feel. Something that makes sense. Time has become as elusive as water, so either stop it or throw me into a phone booth that will take me to a time that is symbiotic with my spirit. My faith is collapsing like a white dwarf and I don't know how much further I can go with what is building up inside of me. I feel that my asperity, if released, could kill every copper butterfly on the planet. (((breathing into the Universal telephone with a Gibson rage))) Dearest of Nebulas, thank-you for hearing my pleas. Thank-you for blessing me with your gifts and your strengths. Thanks to you, with the life lessons that I have learned; I feel as strong as a comet. Now please show me how to use this power before I get impatient (as humans are prone to do) and take matters into my human hands. We both know the destruction that human beings are capable of. I don't think it's possible for me to express to you any further (or clearer) how badly I need this. Now think of those butterflies.... Those pretty, delicate, copper butterflies. *Amen*

Faux Swans, Winter Babies, Bic Lighters, and Sparklers

2010-07-16T19:10:00.000-07:00

It is very much like a queen to arrive without notice and leave a sweltering raging parade of chaos behind her trestles.
Dear Blustering Queen of Calefactions,
I bow to you. I acknowledge you. I remember you. I need no further convincing of your limitless powers.
Now, can you please cut it the fuck out? My brain is melting.
Do you know what's funny when it's really hot and humid like this?
NOTHING!
My skin looks like caramelized sugar and my fingers are sticking to the keys.
I'm a winter baby. I prefer long nights in muppet fur coats, staring at my frosted breath in moonlight.
But since I'm managed to pull my blue head out of the freezer for more than five seconds I guess I'll stop complaining.
That's what music is for.
I'll just listen to Sigur Ros and sail away with them to Iceland. We'll lick icicles, and build igloos, and roast marshmallows with Bic lighters. Jonsi will start to hum Glosoli mostly to himself as we all get busy arranging chairs to watch the aurora borealis.
I'll light sparklers and let them all know that the Northern Lights really are no big deal, and we have something just like them back at home. Then Bjork will crash the party because she simply couldn't wait to give me the faux swan hat that ties under the chin, that she won at a Thorrablot Festival.
Thorrablot is a month long tradition in Iceland which celebrates the viking heritage. Bjork known for her puerile voice and meek demeanor, will have downed a few too many Thule beers and entered the battle axe throwing contest.
And then she'll tell me about slurred words that turned into threats that led to her taking off with an axe and a faux swan hat that Agust will try to eat because we're out of marshmallows.
Ya see? This summer is not so bad...
My life is assembling into its new fashion.
I'm finally starting to get busy and not really pay attention to the minute alterations, to every single second of my existence, and now I'm starting to feel a flow which is quite pleasant.
In the midst of the Unknown it's easy to find a monster in every corner, not thinking that some of those monsters could be really cute and elegant.
Like a supple swan, frozen before Bjorks' glimmering blade.
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Magical Turtles, Robert Smith, Choking Chimes, and Curling Vines

2010-07-10T18:28:00.000-07:00

What's better than listening to "Plainsong" by The Cure and taking a walk at twilight? Listening to "Plainsong" by The Cure and taking a walk at twilight which turns into a sun shower. I love sun showers. They are rare here. So rare in fact that the people I passed on the street were giddy and looking up at the sky with wonder. There were others standing in their doorways as well.
There is something about storm light that is so magical. Maybe it's the contrast between the charcoal grey clouds and the honeyed rays of light.
It's the space where it is apparent that there are no black and white aspects to life. Only shaydows and prisms of thought and emotion.
I thought of J. while my body slithered on The Cure's notes in my lime green headphones. I felt like I could fly...
Throughout my life I took gymnastics for seven years. After getting past the disciplined strength of manipulating your body and making it look graceful, it was a pure joy for me. And that's how I felt today.
The Cure laid out a beautiful composition of uneven bars and I took off, lingering on lyrics and swaying with composition while making the song about my own story.
My own love, my own life.
In that moment Robert Smith sang a spectral symphony just for me. And oh how I adored him for that...
Occasionally I would see the same car that J. has and feel the sudden impulse to run after it like a dog.
FACT: It's not his car.
FACT: I'm not a dog.
But I love him like a dog. I love him like a Greyhound on acid, and I hope that never changes.
I spent a lot of time out in my garden today. I like it out there, but I've been avoiding it as well. After seeing a spider form a tiny web in the corner of one of my chairs I vowed to never sit down again. My arachnophobia became king and took his land.
I've told myself lies such as, "I'll clean up the cobwebs tomorrow, I need a new garden hose, and to re-pot some of those plants..."
-but now I know I was just avoiding another place where I can write.
If it's a mess then I can't write and if I can't write then I don't have to think and if I don't have to think then I don't have to feel and if I don't have to feel then I don't have to feel...B A D!!!
Yes, sometimes writing takes to you to that place...
But as I stood outside today I realized that I don't feel bad.
I just feel a bit scared and vigilant. That's not so terrible.
I moved a pot here....picked up a hose there....got the broom, and I started to feel better.
I've been hanging onto my cobwebs because you never know when you'll need a cobweb. (I mean...that happens sometimes, right?)
So here I am in my enchanting garden, which is taking on new temperaments and perceptions.
The curling vines that choked my chimes sway, and latch onto my arm as I pass.
My corn plant and elephant palm like to cuddle, while others fancy a cut here and a touch there. There's also my dumb cane, which drinks like cRaZY! She is truly an aqua lush, but we all have our vices, who am I to judge?
I heal as I tend to these organisms. I feel as strong as their roots and as fragile as their petals.
And now that I'm finally spending time out here I don't want to leave. I want to keep cleaning and digging...
Perhaps I'll find a magic door.
Speaking of magic doors I can tell that I'm still going through major changes because my dreams are different. It's almost hard to describe. They don't feel like they belong to me anymore. I'm dreaming as though I'm watching someone else dream.
It's not disturbing, it's just strange, and things are calmer now that I'm embracing this random satchel of ribbons masquerading as my life.
The Magic Turtle helps.
Rat Girl gave it to me (five months LATER!) for my birthday.
It's okay, I always wondered what it would be like to be a Cancer.
Ironically it was given to me on my brother's birthday, and we're both pretty sure that we are twins, or were in a past life.
Back to the Magic Turtle. It lights up and projects constellations onto the wall, and it changes colors! And it has a moon, and it's the perfect nightlight, and it's perfect for my mermaid baths and and and AND And AnD...I love it =)
So maybe sometimes life is about not being afraid of your cobwebs.
Maybe it's about simple things like Magical Turtles, and sun showers, and songs that Robert Smith wrote just for you, because you were living on the edge of the world...and he liked your smile.
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Word Colonies, Messenger Thoughts, 2M Love, and Seditious Cheerleaders

2010-06-29T17:25:00.000-07:00

The Messenger arrived yesterday...

I didn't understand her.

She opened a satchel of letters and torn pages, dumped them at my feet and then disappeared.

I started to look through them, but eventually gave up.

My brain still feels like silly putty, and I'm wondering how a person can feel numb and inspired at the same time?

I don't understand this place...

What is this?

What is this situation?

How can you define something that you can't understand?

Everyday I feel both grateful and stuck in this enticing, yet slightly nightmarish perpetual limbo.

I started to write yesterday, but wasn't too crazy with the results.

"No bad writing, no bad writing, no bad writing." I tell myself as I clackety clack the backspace button more times than I would like to admit.

So I shelved my lack of whimsical word colonies, and the confusion with my messenger; and tried to pay attention to life's details.

Twilight shining on the plants in my windows...

The slightly overpowering love that I have for Fage greek yogurt with honey...

That sinking feeling when I fall into to the goose down mattress in my magical tree bed...

These are all good things, and I have them every-damn-day.

While focusing on these specific trivialities my messenger disappeared, and returned the next day.

This time her message was clear.

I was on the treadmill listening to Sleigh Bells, kicking the shit out of that machine when I heard a voice softly say:

"You're pushing me too hard....you're pushing me too hard....you're pushing me too hard."

(((B...rE..aK...Th...Ro....uGh..)))

And now I'm quiet. And now I'm still. And now I'm humbled, and I think I'm taking this life business a bit too seriously.

I have J. who holds my hand, listens to me, runs his fingers through my hair (so much so that it drives me CrAzY! And then he just laughs when I start flinching away like a cat)

I have my girlfriends, who are seditious cheerleaders!

Not the lame ones, but the cool ones that bite boys, slam tequila shots with you, and have guidebooks on throwing away guidebooks.
I have my guy friends, who all happen to be writers.
They're witty, they're bRoKeN, they're strong, and they're funny as hell!

And I have my family. Always. In happiness and in grief, those roots stand.

2M love, forever...

My messenger has opened my perspective, and now I feel lighter.

I think I'll stop complaining that there's no ground.

What do I need ground for anyway? I'm an air sign, it's overrated =)

So tonight I'm going to pLaY. (I'm not going to think about work)

Tonight I'm going to take a mermaid bath. (After drowning my inner critic)

Tonight I'm going to dream. (No nightmares, only naughty dreams about my loov-ah =)

And tonight I will burn sage for my messenger. It was so kind of her to come.

May you all be visited by the creatures of your imaginations, and the guardians of your dream worlds to remind you that you are magnificent and the hero of your own sToRy.

(And maybe to stop being so serious all the time)

Learn from children. They know everything...until they get a bit older.

*sprinkle sprinkle*

Journal 42, Spiral Light, Blurry Shapes, and Silly Putty

2010-06-25T13:47:00.000-07:00

Wow...
I'm not sure where I'm at right now...=)
Hello HeLLo hello everyone,
I've missed you. I'm no longer missing me, which is a good thing.
I'm still on tour in that wind tunnel of change. I could be nearing the end of it, or I could have a thousand more miles to go. I don't know. I just know that this is a big one and life has never looked this way.
These chapters are filled with new pages of possibility that I couldn't see before.
I'm ready for them, but they've been out of reach.
I feel like I'm boogie boarding on the sToRyBoOk of my life in this glowing neon green and purple, swooshy, slippery tunnel that never ends.
At first it's fun, new and exciting!
- but you can't panic.
Because as soon as you panic you forget to breathe, and when you forget to breathe you choke, and when you choke you freak out, and when you freak out all you can think about is not breathing and thinking that you're going to die, and when you're thinking that you're going to die you forget that you're in a wind tunnel that you voluntarily jumped in for a reason, and what was the reason? To get to the other fucking side!
*sigh* Where was I?
Not panicking, yes...
I've felt trapped between the pages at times, and at other times, Ive hung onto the binding of my book for dear life, just waiting to be back on the right page at the right time.
But perhaps, this is the right page and this is the right time.
Maybe I'm supposed to be soggy right now. I just hope that I survive the spin cycle.
These past three months have been like trying to read in a dream. It's nearly impossible. You can feel the paper and make out blurry shapes, perhaps a letter or two, but nothing else is really clear. The best thing that you have is the emotion that you're feeling as you try to read, but that hasn't really worked for me either because my brain has been silly-putty lately.
It's astonishing. I'm quite amazed at how clumpy and sticky my thoughts have been.
Things actually got better when I stopped fighting it. Now I'm just laying back and enjoying the ride. Things don't really need to make sense right now. I'm just journaling through this almost inadequate chaotic dance of whimsical transcendent awkwardness and laughing.
Like, really laughing.
I don't give up on my journals ever. Even when I'm sooo ready to just bail on one and start a new one, I don't. And I have a feeling that journal 42 will be my favorite when I look back after many, m a n y years. 42...that's fitting =)
Anyway, right now I'm good.
It's a gorgeous day. It's my daughter's birthday. She would have been ten today. I imagine what she would look like, yet I feel that part of me knows.
The strangest thing is I don't really wonder what her personality would have been like because I feel that I already know that.
That could mean anything of course. That's she's with me, or my fantasies....I don't know.
It doesn't matter. I'm going to release her balloons soon.
I feel at peace. I haven't cried, not that it would be inappropriate or wrong. I'm just marveling that I don't feel like falling to pieces.
I feel grateful and inspired by my life and everyone in it. I feel connected today. Simply connected, and that's something that I've been looking for for quite some time.
And there is also the matter of that glorious full moon. She's in Capricorn right now, which is I was koo-koo for cocoa puffs last night!
I identify with her so much right now. There is magic in the air and on the wind. She has a show tonight. A lunar eclipse, playing around three a.m.
I'm going to transform into a tiger and watch her.
The tiger stares longingly at the moon Her stripes her stories her travels in tune Her sadness pauses, just for the night Her cub, a luminescent spiraling light As the tiger looks up, and she looks down And they journey together, around and around...
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Stupid Records, pLaY Buttons, Flat Faces, and Yesterday's Minutia

2010-04-30T18:12:00.000-07:00

This is the part of the journey that no one talks about. It's far too late to turn back, and yet the future is too blurry to see the way through to the other side. It could be ten miles, or a hundred thousand. That's where I am.
Virgil had wandered off and left me somewhere near the eighth circle of fraud. And I'm standing alone before my magic mirror, which feels ten miles high.
I'm trying to figure out what is real, what is my shaydow, and what my dreams used to look like.
It's not exactly bad...
Whenever I try to figure things out I walk. I walk everywhere. I blame my East Coast roots for that, and I don't want to change that habit.
The scenery is a bit different over here, but the power of walking feels good just the same. I get lost in my headphones and pace myself to lyrics and beats while trying to diagnose or recognize my emotions.
I constantly feel detached from myself as an Aquarius. Staying grounded does not come easily. Yet being on the verge of Pisces fucks with me too. The best way I can describe it is the feeling of lightly walking the rim of a volcano, and feeling seduced and fascinated with the sparks of the tempestuous lava, but trying to make sure that you don't fall in and get devoured at the same time.
Now where was I?
Yes walking...
I've been walking for so long that my legs are strong. I'm no longer hungry. My clothes are warm and jasmine is blossoming all over the place.
Overall the forest is nice...the eighth circle isn't so bad.
Now that I've adjusted to the unknown I fear I might get thrown into the ninth circle, which I don't think I'm ready for yet.
But for now I just want to linger here and appreciate the feeling of being in-between m-Y-s-E-L-f or selves.
My brain is trying on new webs of thought. It's funny how new ideas can form when you're not looking.
My subconscious has tricked me once again. It got me preoccupied with yesterday's minutia. Problems and minor agitations from the past, playing over and over. A stupid record, an old song. Something that I simply don't need anymore.
And as I tried to get that needle to stop spinning I started to see new words forming in different combination within my thoughts, which lead to different emotions.
And I found myself thinking,
"What would happen if the old music stopped?"
"What would your life look like if you no longer carried this?"
"How would your vision change if you felt differently about yourself?"
"What if you had unlimited chances to get it right?"
"Flex a different muscle. Extend a new limb. StRETch and you will r-e-a-c-h."
That's where I am. And it's nice =)
Time has simply vanished and become a flat face with insignificant numbers.
As I'm giving myself room to fall apart I find that I'm assEMbliNg instead.
I thought there would be a catastrophe inside myself once I let my wild woman roar, but I've come to find that I've already fallen apart and all that's left are these new, shiny parts that have been waiting for me to press pLaY.
And pLaY I will....
-but first I just want to look at these new buttons a little while longer. They're awesome, and they're mine.
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Skirting Stars, Merry-Go-Rounds, Gravitational Tides, and Giraffes

2010-03-30T01:28:00.000-07:00

The Moon is full and loud and alive and humming and I can feel her.
Tonight is her night. She is luminous and vibrant, and hiking up her skirt to the stars, flashing a garter at Saturn.
Always fond of rings and shiny things, while steering clear of Mercury.
There are only so many dysfunctional merry-go-rounds that one can go on before falling into a black hole for good.
Good evening everyone =)
I'm torn between finishing this fabulous Shiraz with you while I tappety-tap-tap on these keys, or going outside and staring once more at her luminosity...
(Be right back, she might have messages for me)
Wow...
My toes are still cold. They're like little icicles.
The moon told me to stop resisting her. It's funny how Aquarians are ruled by cHaNgE.
We constantly crave it. I'm always looking for a different way to see and experience life. Yet, now that I'm actually changing I'm panicking and trying to control the whole process.
I might as well try to mosh underwater.
I've been spending so much time analyzing this transition, but obviously I'm not done yet. This is only part of the process.
Things have just gotten much more interesting for me.
Can I be a spectator and not interfere? How's that for trusting the Nebulas?
As I gazed at the moon I wondered what it was like to have that much power.
Not the part about our needing the moon to survive gravitational tides and such. The other part. The part where she is constantly receiving messages, wishes, and gazes from children, adults, lovers, and....animals?
Do giraffes gaze at the moon?
Do they think she's pretty?
It would be a waste to have such a long neck and not notice something so radiant. It makes me wonder how many beautiful things we miss everyday. What a shame that is.
LOOk harder. And wish deeper.
The moon has been around for 4 and a half billion years.
She can take it =)
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Scrabble Pegs, Pivots, Wobbles, and Miss Clavel

2010-03-25T18:05:00.000-07:00

"I wanna go home."
Those four words have haunted me for years. The chant first started in a corpy cube while corresponding with a fellow inmate, who was also suffering in another corpy cube.
Those cubes are now gone and we have both grown from those necessary pit stops in life. I'm grateful for them.
But I'm chanting again.
"I want to go home."
I am lucky to have found a home in another person. There is no greater feeling.
And as this orb pivots and wobbles through our solar system with increasing agitation at the destruction of our species, we can only try to evolve, apologize, and be grateful for something so wonderful and immeasurable as love.
Having said that, I'm feeling very much like Miss Clavel who turned on her light in the middle of the night and said, "Something is not quite right!"
I'm looking for a home (inside) of myself.
I feel that I lacking foundations and layers that are necessary for the purple cobblestones up ahead.
It's not a bad thing.
Part of me is quite excited.
I've outgrown the comforts that were so necessary for me years ago.
The other parts are nervous.
I'm looking down at my broken cRaYoNs and scrabble pegs and thinking, "I've never built a home before!"
Where do I start? What if I get it wrong? What am I supposed to do?
Ahhh...the questions are beginning to come.
I'll be alright now =)
It's time for more spring cleaning. There is a reason that we clean out our closets and give away things that we've outgrown.
I have a feeling I'm going to be completely naked when I'm done, which is fine, because summer is almost here and that's how I like to swim,lol
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Weezing Dumpsters, Jasmine Bubbles, Cannabis Clouds and LEGO Hammers

2010-03-20T12:49:00.000-07:00

Good afternoon my strawberries...
Oh how I've missed you!
I've missed me too, but that's a long story.
Spring is here. There are jasmine bubbles in the air and blades of green grass sprouting from the earth with all of winter's news.
I have a lot of work to do today.
I want to rebel and whine and say, "-but it's SATURDAY! The only order of business should be putting flowers in my hair, cannabis clouds, sky gazing, late afternoon strolls, blueberry smoothies, and watching movies while smelling J.'s hair.
But no, those plans are on hold for now.
I'm healing.
I was metaphorically kicked down some stairs last week and I've been licking my wounds. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't have been happier with the compulsory boot. I just happened to come down with the flu the same week.
I'm still hacking and weezing dumpster hair balls of disgust from trying to flourish in a non-fairy environment.
But now I know, "Don't be a hero."
Lesson learned. And as David adds, "-especially when you don't know who's writing the comic book."
I've been told (by everyone close to me) that I'm stubborn. But I will no longer try to fit square pegs into circles. I'm putting my LEGO hammer away and taking my own advice, "If you want to know the end of something, look at the beginning." And that beginning was BAD, and I said to myself, "Nonono.....it's going to be fine...."
And it wasn't fine. It was far from fine......
But I'm fine now =)
And it's time to get up off the floor, come out of my Dayquil haze and throw away the avalanche of tissues surrounding me.
I have a lot of work to do. It's not my birthday. I have to get going.
I can breathe again! I'd say that's a great start.
And it's also Spring, which is the time for new beginnings.
And this beginning feels good.....=)
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Lifting Veils, Invisible Enemies, Eternal Flickers, and Genuine Times

2010-02-17T22:56:00.000-08:00

They say that if you make your wish on your birthday at the time that you were born, it's more than likely to come true...
Now who "they" are is still a mystery, but I like the idea.
What appeals to me the most is the ultimate wishing part.
The thought of time standing still just for a moment...
I can look into the eternal flicker of a candle and think of a genuine time when I laughed more than I spoke because I didn't speak a language yet.
And I seemed to say so much more...
(without fear, without apology and with an abundance of smiles and hugs)
I remember a time when all things were possible.
When all of my friends (imaginary, invisible, and real) were all around me.
The dreams that I have are without limit.
They don't need "steps and goals and discipline".
They're just dreams.
Remember dreaming.....just 'cause?!?!?!?!?
Wild and uncontrollable, my dreams are as much a part of me as my soul and my limbs.
This is my wish.
To get back to wishing without putting myself into a space to wish.
I will wish as I breathe.
And I will not translate my glitter.
I have sTrIpEs, and slants, and bubbles.
I also have sadness, and shaydows, and overwhelming pockets of emotions at times.
That is who I am.
And I'm looking forward to tomorrow at 12:01 p.m.
According to the legends that is when I will be greeted by my invisible enemies, and long lost imaginary friends.
The birthday veil will be lifted and they'll remind me that everything matters...
And that nothing matters.
A contradiction?
*******************yes*****************
Which leads to the following questions...
What matters to me now? And what mattered to me when I was six?
I'm going to be thirty-six in twenty-nine minutes.
I've decided to lose the thirty.
And now I'm remembering something....
My heart and spirit feel stronger than ever...
The veil is lifting....
I can almost see them =)
Life Is Beautiful.
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Stimulating Thoughts, London Pizza, Eagle Nebulas, and Gods

2010-01-26T12:46:00.000-08:00

Hello sToRyDrOpPeRs,
I've been dreaming a lot lately. The rain has washed away most of my ennui, and now I'm sitting in silver silence, thinking about my life.
The first thing I feel is gratitude, along with a sense of wonderment.
I'm starting to understand just how much control we have over our lives. How our lives move, feel, and look.
Perception is a powerful puppet string ladies and gentlemen.
The sky is gray again, which is probably why I'm here.
I always seem to find my voice when the sun wanders off.
Maybe I should move to London.
No, that won't work. If I can't even get a decent slice of pizza here, I can't even imagine what I would be served there.
(insert New Yawk-ish grossed out face)
Feeling offended anyone? Want to prove me wrong?
Fine. Send me a ticket =P
In other news, I raped the library the other day of their entire Rumi collection.
As I've mentioned in previous blogs I adore Rumi, and I have no idea what this world would be like without him.
Everyone has their own form of religion. Even an absence of religion is a religion.
Within the Nebulas I have Rumi, Pablo Neruda, Pavarotti, Virginia Woolf, Dali, Teesha Moore, Anais Nin, Rob Breszny, Saul Williams, Gregory Colbert, Sigur Ros, and Nine Inch Nails.
I sit with them at the round table inside the Eagle Nebula and let all of my senses be devoured with musical notes, stimulating thoughts, word combinations, and electrifying images.
Who are your Gods and Goddesses?
No matter who or what they are, they're important. Acknowledge them.
So back to the Rumi books. I picked up "A Year With Rumi", Daily Readings and "The Illuminated Rumi", which I am going to have a really hard time giving back.
I have one more week left and I might be plotting a delinquent library account.
This book is painfully beautiful. I can't give it back. I just can't. It won't let me,lol.
Coleman Barks does the translation with gorgeous illuminations by Michael Green.
Rumi's words and wisdom were so profound, and it's eerie how the basic principles of our lives remain, no matter how the world changes.
"LET YOURSELF BE SILENTLY DRAWN BY THE STRONGER PULL OF WHAT YOU REALLY LOVE".
Okay, I'm off to open the windows and let the clouded sky into my house. I try to gather as many clouds and raindrops as I can during this time. It's Southern California. Who knows when it will rain again.
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Limestone Chips, Soggy Socks, Fairy Snails, and Flappy Ears

2010-01-19T12:37:00.000-08:00

It's raining elephants today, and I seem to have found my voice.

There are thunder rumblings going on as well.

All of my inner thoughts and emotions are spilling all over the house.

The elephants are here in bold forms, showing my weaknesses and worries.

They're doing a dance that I don't really like, and mocking me with their tales.

I want them to be proud of me.

I want to runaway with them and listen to this world with long, flappy ears.

But there is a reason for storms.

I'm grateful for the rain.

Even with soggy socks I feel okay.

I watch the silvers and grays of the sky playing with the light and shadows.

My sha(y)dow is probably still outside looking for snails.

I love snails. They are beautiful, spiraled, fairy creatures that remind us to be patient.

A rainy day is the perfect time to soak your thoughts in patience and go within.

Perhaps I'll take a mermaid bath.

I need to lose my fears of being solid, so I can return to a liquefied state; and let my life pour through me.

I can adapt to everything. I can become a part of everything and nothing.

There will be no pleasure, joy, or love.

There will be no fear, worry or pain.

Just rain.

I will become a random, clumsy, plump, clear, vapor goblet =)

In other news, I have a busy week ahead of me.

I can see the limestone chips of the life I am chiseling floating in the air sometimes.

Something has changed in me.

In some ways I am sadder than ever.

As I grow older the empathy that I feel for the suffering I see in others can be overbearing at times.

And in other ways I feel stronger than ever.

I'm letting my heart design a life of happiness that I would have been embarrassed to admit before because it is filled with so much joy.

The more I think about it, the more I smile and shake my head thinking, “It can't be this easy.”

Well I assure you...

it is.

“You Are What You Want.”

*sprinkle sprinkle*

Plaid Dogs, Wind Whispers, Rain Songs, and Gum Wrappers

2010-01-13T16:14:00.000-08:00

This has been a day of no words.
Lots of whimsical melodies, but no concrete language.
I spent the last few hours listening to an instrumental playlist (Sigur Ros, The Vitamin String Quartet, Devotchka, M83, Air) and arranging images.
And very much like an intricate puzzle I sat myself down and tried to escape from my life.
I looked for pieces of myself between scraps of paper, in unpredictable streams of sky.
I turned forests upside-down and put the Moon in the ocean.
I made hearts out of rocks and flowers into knives.
I stopped thinking in my logical mind, and found that a plaid dog could dance up the side of a bridge made of grass and onion peels, and look terribly beautiful.
I defied gravity. I wished away the atmosphere.
I tried to capture the things that I cannot say.
Things that have no tongue.
I created wind whispers of things to come, between trees made of bubble gum wrappers and a snow leopard the size of an elephant.
The snow leopards was following twin robins made of buttons to the swing sets made of thimbles.
I followed the xylophone keys in a Sigur Ros song and found a ladder to the Nebulas made of mascara sticks!
I remember who I am right now, and it feels good =)
Why did I not think of escaping sooner?
*sigh*
I was promised rain today, but think I missed it. I was still making the dreams.
No matter, I'll just close the blinds really tight and listen to rain songs.
I even have a rain stick and a hot pink umbrella.
That's right folks, I can create universes of possibility on paper, AND control the weather.
There is no reason to ever leave the house again.
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Fantastical Gardens, WonkY Scanners, Key Tappings, and rETrOgRaDE

2010-01-06T00:50:00.000-08:00

Hello All,
What a sTrAnGe retrograde this has been.
Not a bad one....
It's quiet yet social and even downright gabby sometimes.
But there is also something so new floating in the air.
Most likely the rising of the new year.
A collective sigh of relief as we all exhale and want to think that our troubles and tribulations of 2009 are said and done.
Locked in a box and hurled into the sea, never to be spoken of again.
I guess that's it. I can feel the lightness all around me.
It was 75 degrees today. In southern California, we are deprived of snow...but there are still optimistic crystals in the air.
It's nice =)
I gifted my tree bed today with strands of jewels and pendant things....suede strings and silver rings of opal and bracelets made of colored leather.
I love anointing my bed.
I thank her for keeping my safe while I dream; going places that even I could not imagine until I get there.
It's my place of healing, pleasure and dreams.
What could be more magnificent?
I know that I'm all over the place today with these random key tappings.
It's one part writer's neglect, two parts retrograde and one eighth of a WonKy scanner.
I'm having the hardest time uploading my latest artwork, but it's probably for the best because I have been holding onto last year's Book of DreAmS.
I just don't want to let it go.
I don't know what's going on. I just keep staring at it.
Something's wrong.
It's funny that I basically started it at the beginning of last year and finished it last week.
I just put so much into it. It was the first book that I made for myself, and I intimately put my fears and my hopes in-between layers upon layers of crAyOns and paints and images and ink.
I keep caressing the pages, and staring at the words and images.
I know that it's time for a new book.
I need to plant this one and give it a chance to grOW and come back to me in the fantastical garden that I have created.
Why can't I let iT go?
Why Can'T I LeT It Go?
wHy cAn'T I lEt IT gO?
*I don't know*
Am I afraid of new dreams?
Am I afraid that the ones that I have conjured in my book won't come true?
And what if I'm out of dreams to dream?
Stupid you say? Maybe. But it was a smart enough thought to erect itself in my gray matter, wasn't it?
*sigh*
I should go to bed.
I've just missed you guys.
Please look forward to newly scanned artwork and non-retrogrady blogs, coming soon...
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Burning Lashes, Swollen Colors, Pen Strokes and Aorta Drums

2009-12-21T14:05:00.000-08:00

Well hello everyone =)
Oh it feels so good to be in here...
I'm at home on a quiet afternoon.
I don't have all of the beautiful snow from the East Coast, but the sky is an earl gray, and that's good enough for me.
I've got the heater chanting, and the Champa is burning smoke signals that swirl with the promise of revealing other dimensions if I care to look hard enough.
I'm ready to come to the surface.
I needed a few days to just unravel the cruMpLeD remnants of my brain.
This semester left stretch marks behind my eyes.
My lashes still burn a bit when I blink, but I think I'm going to be alright.
For the first time in weeks I feel....
(((((hope))))))
-and it's wonderful.
I'm grateful for all of the support that I have been given from my family and friends.
I'm grateful for silver skies and swollen colors smeared across a journal page.
Paints ExPLoding with chaotic grace as they sway to the fine tipped stroke of a pen brush.
I'm grateful for notes (to and from) the soul.
I'm grateful for music that completely enraptures me with paralysis, leaving me suspended; underwater...in wonder and complete awe.
I'm grateful that it's the season for sea salt dark chocolates!
YES! I need to buy like ten boxes and see if I can make it to February.
The only words that come to mind in describing these ambrosial morsels are pornographic ecstasy.
I'm grateful that I get that feeling every time I kiss my LOOv-Ah's lips.
I'm grateful that this is the longest night of the year.
I'm going to prepare my subconscious for longer dreams.
I'm going to climb streams of stars to the very top of my tree bed, and then I'm going to dive into oceans of goose cloaks and let myself fALL and Fall and f a l l into surreal manipulations of thought.
I'm going to study the canvases of my desires and clear away the viruses of vacillation.
I'll listen for the bona fide beating drum of my dreams.
My (A)o(Rt)a.
I'll do my best not to run the other way.
Our brightest brilliance can be blinding.
I want to slowly observe and remember them.
And then I'll do a ceremonial rain dance until I'm completely submerged in sToRyDrOpS.
I'll leave some umbrellas beneath my bed.
*sprinkle sprinkle*

Plush Plums, New Gardens, Exhausted Alices, and Raining Cranberries

2009-12-08T22:50:00.000-08:00

1...
I can feel it.
It's almost here.
2...
I'm counting to ten.
18 has always been my lucky number; my birth and the glorious Moon.
My freedom.
My break, from so much hard work.
Why does no one tell you how messy growth is?
It's gross, and sloppy and tattered.
3...
I feel battered and bruised, and fat and sloppy; like a plush plum that has fallen off to the side of the tree.
I've rolled away and there is dirt in my sagging skin.
4...
I could have been so tasty...
I could have been so beautiful....
-but now I have no choice.
I must bury myself again, and grow once more.
5...
Getting taLLer, and smaller, and WIDER and sweeter and ultimately more bitter.
6...
This Alice is exhausted.
And ready to sleep and dream of new gardens.
I'm lOOking forward to new doors, and shaydes of colors that I never knew existed.
7...
My pity party is raining cranberries.
And it's about fucking time!
I hate being gRuMpY and feeling like a lumpy mess of anger.
8...
Not me...
9...
not me...
(9 and a half)
NoT Me...notme...NoTmE...
So now I smile in adversity.
I smile with my lush, cranberry lips that taste of plums.
I smile thinking of stripes, and new drums, made of cRaYoN sticks.
I smile because I'm coming back.
To myself.
To you.
This is new....
lOOk up....
-it's raining cranberry colored sToRyDrOpS =)
10.
*sprinkle sprinkle*