Monthly Archives: March 2004

tired eyes, happy smirking today.
tonight i must touch the dreaming early…but i must also be on call for my sister’s poor heart after a breakup. my cell phone and the velveteen rabbit are bedside to soothe her if she calls.today i occupied my bicycle path with two horses gallopping. one was a bold, white goliath of beauty with a finely brushed mane, and the other black and small… today i lived cerebrally~

muses run amock in our friendship, whipping winds senseless in moonstone and myrrh. we talk endless, eat blueberries, paint portraits of our best friends, spark our ambitions, and get lost on purpose to steal away more time together…

riding my bicycle under cherry blossom trees, lost at the foothills of mountains in burbank, possibly glendale… i swerve in time to the beat of the cranes’ cloudless, happy in my lost world. i cannot deny a wide thick grass and i dismount impulsively lying on my belly in fragrant flower petals, toes skyward, listening to allison shaw finish and teargarden’s ‘with wings’ come into focus as i scan the mountain ridge all around me…how did i get here?… and if i care to return, in which direction might that be? i let that concern slip away and i enjoy the moist grass between my toes.

today is Rogue Puck’s birthday. he called me while i was sifting through ancient baubles in an antique store. as we spoke i found myself mute… i couldn’t pull myself away from this…item…and after we hung up, i bought it for him. we will see tresk perform this week… tresk rocks my world. this music affects me… i liken it to warm hyacinth petals, heart chakra busting… and i must shoot a music video for them…it’s imperative… Rogue Puck says tresk is like a multiple personality with his alter-ego project being wholy on the flip side…

tonight jenna brought me to a party where intellectuals drank scoth on the rocks and played board games to punk music. a sage green room with mexican masks and mod lighting. horns nod to billowing curtains, wilting daisies and a worn dark wood table. tonight i kicked ass at jenga surrounded in witty conversation and i made an instant friend with a kitty. i was dubbed ‘team kitty’ when i joined forces with my fluffy cohort in ‘scene it’ where i was overwhelmed by everyone’s steady recall of all kinds of film scenes, actors’ names and movie titles. a dozen people on comfortable furniture, one person always leaving and 2 people always arriving. at different hilarious moments of the evening someone broke into song. one such rendering stemmed from a guest helping herself to the cous cous in the host’s refridgerator and someone bellowed out in a perfect opera voice, dead pan delivery, to the tune of depeche mode’s personal jesus… ‘you’re OWN… PERSONAL… COUS COUS!’ i sat on a plush red chair drinking a glass of merlot slowly as a spectator, lost in thoughts of teardrop prisms on trees.
midnight came and went and i began to analyze a dream i had when i napped before jenna picked me up. a nightmare directly caused by the blue neon glow of my pc case lefton accidentally. i dreamt of a dark underground club that i belonged to that i wanted to leave but couldn’t. i would enter a door and be rendered unconscience. i’d awake in my dream with needle marks in a decorative circle on my chest, a branding. i was thankful it was temporary and that it was not near my heart. after this happened twice i decided i was going to talk to the queen of this den and ask permission to leave but before i could get to her, i fell into a dream within the dream and i felt like i was slipping further into a nightmare… so i willed myself to waking. and i opened my eyes with this blue glow but felt halfway in worlds until i turned on my white table light with much effort. the brightness eradicated the negative mist in the room… and i felt better when jenna called a few moments later. she was on the way…

Rogue Puck talks of having two swords always drawn and i wonder if he protects what threatens to spread thin… a one hour cafe idea-swapping meeting turned into a ten hour exchange of ideas and secrets.

we talk of chivalry and veil-lifting by candlelight. hours pass and we surround ourselves in cocteau twins, placing just the right candle in an old heavy asian lantern, much like our ideas melting into this film project. by night’s end, cosmic workings had spun rampant, albeit restrained. he tells me stories of masquerades past and how faerie wings could bleed the masses. we talk of family, of love in all it’s degrees…mostly we talk of DOING, creating…

i’ve discovered a way to trick my sleeplessness… but i think the restless faery is hip to my jive. it worked for a few fitful dreamtimes… sleeping upside down with soft purple velvet blankets wrapped directly and tightly around me. i was straight-jacketing myself to sleep, seizing the momentary physical bliss of velvet, the spiritual awareness of being surrounded by purple… but always i awake as if something is missing… always i awake at the edge of the bed…

an evening in the hammock

hanging suspended, a pixie pendulum, meandering around my center, wherever that lies… a pixie pouch, a ball sack. purple webs hold me. they are of my own making. a project 9 years in the wings is coming to fruition. it knocks quietly from the inside. i can’t tell who has been waiting longer… it… or me… weaved secrets sprayed out before me. i bounce ideas off of Pirate. he adds depth to my ideas, fluid, helpful and so all systems are go. the hammock stops its swaying and evening jiggers collect on my bed clothes, all askew from an evening jog by streetlight and listening to ekova with wild hedonistic sounds pushing me on. time for a bath to wash away the day… time for indoor dreaming now… Pirate says i conjure dolphins when i yawn…

lunch today is a nutty mocha at priscilla’s cafe. there is discomfort today in being awake. it’s a day i wish i was asleep in my hammock or under heavy blankets. i have no excuse, no season to blame this on. spring is all around me. easter eggs, pastel predictions. i just need quiet is all. to not justify myself. to not be asked why i am how i am, why i am silent this week, deep in healing thought. i feel how i feel and i make no apologies. marc tells me it’s a process, not an event. jen asks me to describe my boulders on top of me and if i can breathe. i assure her i have a pocket of air. i take in low patient breaths as she tempts me out from under my flat heavy rock. but with enough space for two, i invite her in for a tea party.
i am lock-jawed today, holding peacock feathers close, in hiding. i go thru motions of work but i want to go to sleep. today i booked a flight to new york city in june. danny says he will take off a day of work and we will go take a trip together, some place we have never been before. i will spend time with my father for a day, my mother for an evening… i will put my journals in a box, pack up my antique writing desk and hand them over to the ups gods. 25 years of memories in the hands of a tracking #…shivers… but that is june…
future future future
must to focus on the NOW NOW NOW… and now… i need to… just…give the fuck UP… i give up…

I
GIVE
UP

i let this reality take over… i change my frequent flyer accounts to my maiden name. i practice writing it again.. yes, like a bicycle, there i am, swift and cursive… i am two places at once. half of me still awakes warm in the ghost of entwined toes and half of me has fierce eyes set on creativity… projects… life… elixers of films’ bounty, intrigue of new souls, testing my resolve.

i sip the last of my mocha and nearly choke on an U2 song playing overhead. i scurry into cocoons…and run back to work, the day nearly out, my angels awaiting me in dream time to smooth out my furrowed brow…

today i saw ‘eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ and i walked down the street numb and mute afterwards. it’s my life… on screen… not to mention my hair color and in ponytails nonetheless…and set in new york too.

today i laid out all my books on the floor, separating them into subjects… faerie lore, writing, travel, children’s books, poetry, fiction, biography… i put most of my books on israel in a separate pile on the floor with their covers upside down and kicked them under my bed… hard. i turned all my books on motherhood with their spines facing the wall but i gave them shelf space. i opened my jewelry box by accident and found myself slipping my wedding ring onto my finger… i even smelled it… i don’t know why… and then i put it back in the box… i shut the box and put a heavy butterfly on top of it…

giddy starfishes

inspired… to the point of stuttering. i parked my bicycle just after dusk and went through the back door and diane’s in the kitchn and she tells me of a hard day and i tell her of a hard day and, after a moment’s silence, we say one word in unison “…wine?” and after a giggle fit, we open up some yellowtail shiraz. we sit by candle light talking about how we love film making and about what we were like in high school, about the different formats of film. and then i show her my thesis film and she wants to know why i am not filming for a living… and i have no good reason for her… and she takes me in her room, sits me in front of her editing equipment and shows me things and..instantly i can navigate around final cut pro. and we start talking of projects… for me it is danny’s wedding that i shot in october.. priority #1… that would be amazing to edit, considering i shot it and it’s yet unfinished in my mind.

i left the house in a frenzy and found donna. she made me a small faerie with red hair and we went ona walk, ending up in my faerie garden, where she sat in my hammock gripping mace and we talked about ideas and about her stalker. i walked her home and we watched a new episode of south park as i gave a kitty a massage.

my wheels just can’t stop turning. the prospect of filming makes me a giddy starfish, reaching out for texture and growth. how much more resurrection can i take?