my room is a mess of tripods and peacock feathers. holly asleep in a pink costume with white lights and leaves framing her face in my bed surrounded by butterfly wings. i’ve finished filming and she slumbers on…. the scene is over… autumn pixie has been captured…still she sleeps… i can film no more this evening… now i smile… delicate renderings of red and orange, pale skin, tassles of hair strewn in orbs of light. no more filming… just beauty rampant… this mortal coil sings out and i cannot bear to wake her… i will go to the garden…
holly is adorable..she flew from boston today to play here with me for a week. we went to vitello’s for diane’s bday and i saw the effects of je lag descend. she fell face first on my bed bumbling and mumbling words and purrs and fell asleep right there. i had peach pie with my roommates and came to tuck her in. i started to undo her shoelaces and she awoke, tearing into her bag looking for a toothbrush saying ‘grrrrr’ in her soft un-grrr way before finding it victoriously.
it’s the morning after our party and i’m sore and hungover. my entire body aches. bumble bees above me, dozens of them in a frenzy in my tree, which is absolutely raging in springtime bloom. they attach to the pale blooms and, like workers on scaffolding, send petals down.
wowowow! just now… as i lay under the hummingbird feeder…. a hummingbird came and hovered above my head! literally six inches above my head… i dared not move, but i whispered my wonder “oh… my… god” god indeed. it stayed for ten seconds like that and then went to do my tree’s bidding as well, lost in a sea of huge black bees with irridescent copper wings. a low drone can be heard, the chant of their pollination.
the party was a smashing success. people started arriving at 3pm setting up guitars and amps. diane and i set out plates of food. the jam sessions throughout the party were amazing. it was set up in a barn stall and the sound could be heard for blocks around, eventually ending with a visit from the cops, as all rockstar engagements should. all of my favoritest of favorites were there… my cousin chad suprised me by coming, jenna and charlie brown, eric in his motorcycle space suit, keith and a friend just after a film shoot, co-workers from WB… and shawn, who arrived the earliest and stayed the latest. despite my firefly overseeing of everyone’s happiness and sustanence, i was connected to him all day. we would catch each other’s gaze mingling in different circles…and smile. i really liked that. i also liked how comfortable he seemed to be talking to my friends and how i didn’t have to occupy him. i expect the shoe to be on a different foot come LOJ and i expect to feel just as at ease.
food and drink were overflowing. i played drums for the first time in a long while, jamming with my roommates and their friends. spontaneous and hindered slightly perhaps but always fun. i made toxic cosmopolitans to inebreate the masses. dusk came and rich and i hung more faerie lights on the patio. tealights abounded as well and a cooler evening breeze was welcomed. my boss, marc arrived with my ex-boss, his wife, nicole from paramount studios. elinor and her girlfriend arrived shortly after along with more WB friends. hilarious convorsation unfolded, casual and hysterical…and i was happy everyone was having a good time.
after most of the guests left, shawn and i snuck away for a walk… we spoke openly about things and i was much releived in his honesty and thoughts… he has a brilliant mind, fantastic ideas and an ambition that propels those around him. earlier in the day we talked of quantum theories and story ideas. his stories are like mirrors. things i’ve always known to be true…he brings resting concepts in the laurels of my mind to the forefront and out through my eyes, my pen, my camera. understanding comes natural, and we both seemed relieved.
the hours before dawn brought alignment, lit by first moonlight and then our lantern. i spun it and the tealight-singed pattern did dance. he left before dawn to drive back to san diego for a meeting, a mess of pop rocks and soft smiles… a precious muse…
i could not sleep. i started cleaning up the garden, remembering the writer’s group event that was taking over our house in just a few hours, reading a play aloud with actors and an audience. i ate canteloupe and nursed a slight hangover, eventually collapsing in sleep for longer that i intended. i awoke to the sound of animated voices in the living room and a dozen responding in laughter. i tried to strategize about how to get into the shower without interrupting their reading, opting to wait it out in daydreams and playing with puck gifts; a froud pin, a blue bottle of his homemade blueberry meade, empty pop rock vials strewn about every which way and a candy called ‘flower’s kiss’.
i eventually showered and then set right to work on assembling my camera, filming the huge bumble bees, and other nature, one such wonder being a flower suspended by a single strand of spider silk, turning in the ind. with it out of focus it turned into fae. rich found me and helped by blowing softly on it, sending it to flying. the golden light sent me into a silent search for my white pony. i walked with camera and tripod to the equestrian center and captured those bulbous black orb eyes shining love at me, white long eyelashes blinking slowly. flower petals and brambles adorned his flowing mane and when he turned abruptly and moved out of frame and then back in curiously, i smiled. i left him with a forehead to forehead kiss and went to film two more horses. one was wild, older with elf eyes hiding behind a brown long mane. the wonder of these creatures softens my pace, brings sanctuary just knowing they exist. we dance telepathically with a camera between us. i love my time at the stables. i expect to be caught and reprimanded, fined perhaps, but the the barn keepers now seem to think i belong there… so perhaps my trespassing secret is safe. they must think i own the white pony… i think i do too.
today i met a beautiful blonde jockey who told me all about her horse and the tricks he does. she was outfitted in riding gear with huge diamond earrings. she fed her horse carrots as the horse next to hers brattishly nudged the connecting gate shut on her horse. he wanted carrots too. she obliged him sweetly and then asked if i’d like to see him kiss her. “of course” i said and sure enough there was some mad carrot juice swapping going on right there. the horse is in love with her. we walked to her car and she showed me more photos of him kissing her. i suggested she make a trip tych of three of the best ones and she said she would. we exchanged names and then goodbyes and i went to play with the miniature horses… how surreal… horses the size of dogs, playful as children. i was in love with every single one of them.
i walked home after my battery ran out and finally ate a meal for the first time in 2 days. rich made fun of my jeans now falling off of me. i lost 10 pounds in 2 months and must now go clothes shopping… i couldn’t get the tripod shoe off of my camera so i went to rich for mus-kles. i laid on rich’s bed talking with him and his painter friend about art theory. rich chimed in with writing structure, and an interesting dialog ensued. i realized how strongly i feel about free flow writing, sans structure, and i also realize i will have to change that if i hope to write anything linear.
so much inspiration around me, reciprocated, from my housemates to friends to stories i hear, to my beautiful muse, to dreams… i filmed venetian masks under strategic lights and i fall now into bed… satiated, happy, purring into pillowcases still warm from the dryer…
there are some things in life i just do not understand… craigs list being one of them… i have had three people that have come to my house in the past few weeks to buy things from me that i’ve advertised on craigs list and have hit on me…one of them a girl who cornered me and touched my hair before i threw her out… i don’t understand this… i mean people meet in much shallower ways, to be sure, but the concept of meeting to buy something from someone and staying for a shag is unfathomable to me. my ex did it recently… but then again, he’ll do anyone… he’ll do a pizza delivery girl if he’s horny and she’s there…and then he’ll tell me he was thinking of me the whole time, what an ass….ehem… but my point being… how do people feel after this? ‘i came to pick up a toaster and i swapped juices with someone’.
is nothing sacred? has everyone just lost their ever-loving minds?!
no, i don’t want to shag… i want you to take your freakin asian table runner and leave… craigs list is this whole underground dating society, like dirty men under bridges with nothing under their trench coats…and oh the emails afterwards ‘thank you, you saved my life, i had a deadline and you came thru for me…wanna shag/dinner-equals-shag/be friends… no… i don’t. tonight when this guy comes to pick up my ipod wire i’m going to put a green facial mask on and meet him on the porch for a quick transaction… eeeeeeep! people scare me sometimes… desires misdirected and desparate…
today was a good day. i saw my horse AND i saw shawn… we walked to the horse stables and sat on a white fence talking and eventually found ourselves in grass cuddling, holding dusk at bay. my white pony might be a girl. we’re not acquainted well enough for me to check though… but beauty and wisdom is in those huge eyes and i am most definately smitten. i will see her again tomorrow… shawn again on saturday~ my favorite part of the day was lying under the tree in my garden on shawn’s chest and covering him in flower petals…
tonight we had a family dinner in honor of rich’s bday. diane cooked, daniel and i cleaned and everyone ate scrumptuliciousest food except of course dusty, who was locked outside on account of her diet. spinach, orange slices and pine nuts, grilled chicken and garlic mashed potatoes… VERY garlicy mashed potatoes. marie collander’s peach pie a la mode with french vanilla ice cream followed, our house weakness. whenever someone has a bad day, someone else gets wind of it and brings home this amazing pick-me-up from marie collander’s. rich blew out his candles with garlic breath and opened presents. he tried on the pajamas that i got hiim and the lady at the cafe where he writes all the time stopped by to give him a gift. we all sat and chatted for a bit. daniel and i cleaned the kitchen and then my lungs collapsed again. down for the count… but content. in this house, we are all family. we all support and celebrate each other…and i love it.
i awake to my body vibrating, racked in insatiable coughing. my life for a cough drop! today elinor took me to the urgent care center after my boss made me leave for being sick. ‘ok dad’ i sulked after he instant messaged me from his office ‘would you go to the hospital already??’ and so i left at 3pm… elinor took me. both of us, coughing and giggling as the nurse made the mistake of closing the door after her initial vital check. we raided the room, urchin star style! we tore into drawers, ripped open alcohol swabs and sniffed them in glee. ‘you like that too!?’ ‘oh yeah!’ a bonding moment… we put bandages on each other in odd places and played doctor with the thing with the light on it, unsure of which orafice it inspects. last time when i took her to the doctor, they had that metal hammer thing that tests reflexes and i took great joy in banging on her knees and calling her a cheater when her foot did sway from it. after the room raid, we laid back sniffing rubbing alcohol and behaved mildly til the doctor arrived. he was a distrusting middle-aged man who tried to tell me thati had a cold. he made me take my sweater off, revealing a band aid elinor placed on the inside of my arm where certainly no scratch would ever journey but that’s between us and the goblins and squirrels. she sat giggling in the chair hoping he wouldn’t notice. he didn’t. he was too busy copping a feel in the name of respiration-seeking. so after his bogus inspection, the man tells me i have a cold. laughable… “i don’t have a cold, mister E.R. i have BRONCHITIS and furthermore…” i informed him of my imminent death. i have no runny nose, the top of my lungs are where there is pain in much the same and unmistakable way of the bronchitis demons, similar to the times i’ve been hospitalized for it previously when i listened to some quack telling me it’s not serious and having to get admitted a few days after the fact. “people don’t get hospitalized for bronchitis.” he said most cockily, “what was the diagnosis?” ah, so it was a game! ok then… “the diagnosis?” i asked, “BRONCHITIS, ya fuck!” it was threatening to turn to pneumonia. i even have the lung xray to prove it. i simply said “i’ve had this before, doctor man”. so he prescribed me a 5 day round of antibiotics and sent us on our way. what a displaced fool who seems to hate his job. i just want to be better in time for our party this weekend.
so we drove to pick up the prescription, 2 pills now and one pill every night for 4 more nights. we sat on my bed surrounded in fairy lights as she opened her birthday present. “is it a kite!?” she asked upon seeing the power-puff girl wrapping paper. i tried to lie but couldn’t. “nnnnooooooo…um, yesssss” i said defeated and she tore into it. a rainbow kite for my belle. so we went scurrying to the equestrian center to fly it. i guessed correctly that she’d never flown a kite before… and by golly and jehosephat, it was HIGH time!
we first snuck into the horse stables. rows and rows of perfect horses with necks extended over barn doors turned towards us. one by one we cooed at them all, greeting them like cats. my favorite was a white pony with a beautifully elvish face and doe eyes. i touched his head and we both stared at each other in wonder unblinking. such was an instant bond… i admit to thoughts of stealing him running bareback in moors… he told me he wouldn’t mind. his twin, housed next door was less self-aware, a wilder white pony thrashing in his youth. we let him be. some horses saw us and kicked the door, sending elinor jumping ten feet in the air and announcing she was done with the barn raid.
we went on the grassy field where they hold shows with bleachers to play with the kite, having first assembled it on the road. i taught her how to fly it and she was off running like a child. i liked to watch her running towards sunset and willed the kite towards a gentle wind. breathless we laid on my jacket facing sunset. happy, with grass stains on her jeans, we decided to head back to the house, her with her kite flying behind her. a man with an irish accent outside of pickwick, made a comment of there being no wind. “Shhhhhh!” i reprimanded him. the wind held our wonder just fine.
we drove to a thai restaurant and i treated her to dinner. soup and cranberry juice for me. pad thai noodles with extra peanut sauce for her. upon arriving home, i took some cough medicine and we laid in bed awhile talking of feng shui til it kicked in. i like when she tucks me in….
“I am drawn to the wild not because it is wild but because it is sensible, logical, ordered, stable, resilient. Wild nature is everything we’re struggling to regain.” Carl Safina
dextromethorphan descends, a prescribed ‘cure’ to the elephant on my chest. all the wicked syrup did was paralyze me further. i become part of my plush purple seashell chair and thoughts get cloudy. shake shake shake dog shake…still cloudy. i am looking forward to seeing jason tonight, burning man energy…
yesterday morning after tell tale dreaming. i began to have doubts about the mustang convertible i was about to buy. it’s a hot car…in theory. but again instincts align in the form of my father’s voice permanently implanted within me… damn practicality.
i brought the car to another mechanic hoping for someone to talk me out of it. all i heard was “right side suspension issues” and that’s all i needed to change my mind. i drove the mustang right back to joe, the dealer, handed back the keys and apologized but i wouldn’t be getting the car… as i turned to go, something stopped me… “do you have anything else?” i heard myself say… “well, we’ve got a hyundai in the back…” and he turned towards it mumbling in a middle-aged-world-weight-on-his-back-california-dude sorta way. i fell into step and followed him to the back of the lot. there in the corner with a flat tire surrounded by el caminos was a 1999 hyundai elantra, newly painted white, tinted windows, immaculate, 66k miles. it was mine… i haggled him down shamelessly from $6,500 to $4,000. he fixed the tire, moved cars out of the way to unearth it and away i sped rocking out to modern english that happened to pop up on the radio when i turned it on… i raced back excitedly to the mechanic, jesse, who thoroughly checked it out while chain smoking. “it’s a solid car, lady.” he said. “how much the dealer wanted for it?” he asked. i told him and he said ‘GRAB it!’ and so i did and so it goes… i brought the car back to the lot, paid him cash. we sat in an overgrown room of paint cans with car parts in them and a dusty cordless phone filling out DMV forms and chatting. i sped home, jumped in place for a solid minute which my roommates took to mean yes-she-got-a-car and then put on a sports bra and shorts and cleaned my new car til it shined. first thing i did was take the fairy car mats with matching steering wheel cover that mom got me a year ago, the ones tsafi wouldn’t allow in our corrolla, and took great pride in setting it up in this, my OWN car. i put a pouting pixie sticker on the tinted rear window and i was very chuffed with it all. the inside didn’t need much cleaning, just some pixy stix scattered throughout for the occasion fix, and my leopard print sunglass case. i gook photos, parked it under a tree and walked down the street to have coffee with a friend. we collected branches for the canopy of my bed and drove around the block. highways still scare me…
ringing in my ear
laughter and night
creaking gates, feigned locks
paced connection is difficult,
one step into and in
two steps out in absorbing
a wickedly intricate dance,
the pace of my direction quickens my blood,
breathless and hopeful,
still i focus..
an evening at donna’s and all i focus on are the empty frames on her walls, just the scenes i wanted to film, donna on one side, her daughter on the other, frames suspended by fishwire, beauty static, frames in swaying motion, surreal lighting, contrast and shadows, a muse and her mirror. renaissance clothing, alter egos, cosmic stares, animated capturing in gold frames, doppelgangers symmetrical. and i laugh at the show and convorsaton with eyes to the framing.
ringing still in my ears.
my cough worsens in my laying to rest. i dreamt when i napped this afternoon, an awning of bulbous leaves, autumn padding, barefoot, cross-legged, open, patient in dusk’s shadows & shawn across from me silent…