night has fallen. the blue moon yet to rise. hundreds of people screaming, celebrating. woodland takes the stage. harp and dideradoo and drum. everyone spins insane in their own evergreen here. horns protrude among the scattered. tree trunks entwined in spiral luminescence. i’ve decided eric is wrong… i never run away or to…i simply seek out a pulse. this whirling celebrating of life…it is neither solution nor recourse… if life indeed DOES go by in a blink of an eye, this energetic revelry is what i wish to see behind closed eyelids, if only for that second…
costumed palm-extended smiling loves in their dance. chantal and i passed wine at twilight on a winding road counting all the ways in which we are fortunate for this moment. is there nothing more than moments such as these? it has been six weeks that i have withheld energy, sustained my pain so as not to further it. in turn i think i’ve healed some… through music, not love… through sunlight, not dark… through creativity, not escapism.. i own my life… therefore i can give it freely… cory writes that i gave him my love, full on… yes, he’s right… i did… and look what he did with it… but he can’t help it, he says, he has his dis-ease, his ‘poly-amour-ism’…what a victim. the sky for a worthy love! a constant axis! a longing for clear signs… all is subjective… alone, i decipher my compass… nose to the heather, i press on… knowing that starshine is now misleading…
happiness is just a series of moments…
weaving through the spinning crowd. blue boa feathers trailing how i feel tonight. woodland spun a frenzy flicker and no one has recovered yet. i saw a man on his knees prostrate in front of the stage. i felt his gratitude, heard his words in my ears. “i heard that,” i said as he came to his feet and then i continued to spin through the crowd. he caught up to me, hugged me wide and we both spun on to other places. a preistess steps out from a shadow on stage with a singing bowl and sends us all to shivers… a line of torches and fire spinners ignite! hedonistic sounds bring madness! didge brings the grounding i crave… we are all wide-eyed in poi and wonder…
solas on stage now. bright late afternoon sunlight. wrapped in blue feathers. children jumping and spinning in loose dusty sand. an infant sucking on his mother’s shoulder. women in braids, renaissance dresses waltzing with perfect postures, arms around each other…lovely. elvin masks, patchwork capes. the scent of wine. headdresses of feathers, wreaths of rosebuds. winged men, swaying mothers and children are all around me. chantal and redcap, happy beside me. many vendors selling every such faerie thing known to the sky. i showed restraint if only a bit. a bunch of stickers and two journals.
one vendor was carrying a familiar book, finding faeries “my ex-nyc-roomate, david hohn, illustrated this,” i said to chantal… “ooooh, and i’m IN it!” i remembered, flipping wildly through it, not realizing i was on the COVER! just then the woman sitting there piped up…”he’s here, you know… david.” and i went in a frenzy search for him. i hadn’t seen him in 8 years! just when i gave up looking for him in the crowds, he crossed my path. i ran up next to him and slipped my arm under his, swinging him ’round, ‘hihihi!’. his face reddened and we hugged. “i shoulda KNOWN you’d be here!” he said and we spent some time catching up under trees. he is married to a woman named moon and lives in a surburban house nearby to the event. he gave me a signed copy of his book and drew me something in my journal. we waited in line for him to get things signed by brian froud. toby was standing next to his father. his eyes brightened in uncertain recognition at me. “labyrinth of jareth last year…” i offerred and he held my hand for a moment. he came and sat with me for a bit, told me about film school and things. glitter has embedded into my skin, feathers shift with the wind.
a girl came up to redcap and asked if he was pan or if he was PUCK. after some thought he burst out “i’m… PANCK!” LOL!!! redcap is funny~ he wrote me another beautiful story. he says i am the character ‘flicker crisp’. i will post the story on here soon…
lying atop a bunkbed in a hostel in portland. i flip upside down and stare smiling at chantal. she is pretending to sleep. she knows i will throw a pillow at her head like i did last night. being in a bunkbed in a hostel with her is a familiar feeling… summer of 1999…best summer of my life!
she met me outside the airport terminal in a burgundy corrolla. police were whistling at cars to keep moving. big smiles, quick hugs and we threw my suitcase in the back seat. i jumped in the front. she handed me mapquest directions and we were off. it was midnight and we were hyper. “wanna get a drink?” she offerred wickedly. i explained to her how i’d somehow mananged to get too excited and worked myself into a heartburn reality. “well, i will need milk,” i told her, to which she had the perfect solution… “KAHLUA and milk!” fine and done… it was only two weeks ago we were driving and navigating to a waterfall in another state…too surreal… also surreal… the moon… i told her in the car how tomorrow is the blue moon and upon parking the car in front of the hostel, and walking arm in arm down a gorgeous street and coming upon options for bars, one of them was called ‘blue moon’. “well it seems our decision had been made for us already.” we sat in a wooden booth by dim light and loud music. i had two kahlua’s and milk, the only thing i’ve eaten today… (i was too hyper to eat.) she had red wine and chicken strips. when the plate came it was overflowing with food. “wow! i forgot i was in america!” she said. “yesyes, large portions…” we made ourselves stop talking at 1:30am after realizing that the sun comes up at 4:30am here. someone had told me that while waiting at the baggage claim. sunlight from 4:30am until 10pm here! “which mean my body will start to sense it at 4am and… oh, poor YOU!” i warned her. “no,” she said firmly, “i NEED my sleep…” “fine,” i said, with my own agenda…hee hee…and here it is 6am and i’m restraining myself. any slight movement in the bunk below me and the canadaian GETS it! my sister left me a voice mail that i just checked now “what the HELL are you doin gin portland, you maniac?” giggles and click…
on a flight from burbank to portland. i love airports. i like watching people solve problems while dealing with claustrophobia. two people had the same seat…they dealt with it pleasantly. there was another seat right next to him. the tongue clicking and arrogance of those 13 hour flights between new york and israel are a distant memory. i like soundless flashing lights on wing tips. i like the feeling of anything-can-happen, of this huge beast going in reverse as it pulls back from the gate and the anticipation of shooting to the sky. flying to me is like death. i always savor the last second of solid ground but once airborne, all senses are peaked. it’s a wonder to soar through clouds, to see brilliant, shimmering lights below and to call it a city. from the sky there are no borders, only land and sea. at night everything is a gradation of grey, cradled between the stars above and the stars of towns.
we taxi to the end of the runway, round the bend and there She is, the Full Moon…raging, dead center in my window. one pause and we’re off racing down the runway. i smile at Her. She smiles back. i’m going to honor Her properly this weekend… with other nature sprites. we tilt up and peirce the sky. siipsie rings loudly and i jump in my seat. into the moon we fly! She shines over valleys. i press my nose to the window and pretend i can see my house. the window turns dark and i settle in for the flight. two hours til i see chantal!
from my wise pirate… “I was just thinking about our conversation tonight. And I think I have the answer. You really want to know what I think? You want my opinion? Here it is. And it’s very simple. You are rebounding. Nothing more. You are a wonderful girl. And you want so desparately to be loved. Moreover, you have so much love to GIVE. And you are constantly hurt and confused – perplexed by WHY that love is never appreciated, always taken for granted, and used just so boys can get in your pants. So you thought you finally found the solution. And you got married. And that fell apart too. So now, you are desparately trying to “find yourself” and seek these answers. You are running around trying so hard to meet people and have fun and keep busy and pursue your dreams. Thinking that if you run fast enough and hard enough, you’ll run into what you seek. To most people, it looks like you are running away from your problems. But that’s not exactly true. You are running trying to find SOLUTIONS. The side-effect is that you are running from problems too. That is not what you want to do. I know you want to face things and deal with issues in your life. But like I said, running to find solutions has the side-effect of running away from problems. So you are rebounding. Meeting great boys. Finding amazing loves. Encountering fantastic romances. Only to have them wither. Trying so hard to mold these relationships into those romantic dreams that have failed all your life. Human hearts may be as soft and spiritless as porridge and a faerie’s heart may beat fierce and free… but it doesn’t change your need to love and be loved.
They say we make things happen. We form our own destinies. We make our fate. I believe this. But sometimes I wonder… Sometimes I wonder if we might only mold and shape and hewn our destines. But we can’t control them. Maybe our lives are like clay. We form our destiny in that clay. But we have no control over the clay itself. No control over the type of clay that gets put in front of us. Some people have nice, moist, easily-formed clay and they shape it into whatever they want. Other people have wet, slimy clay and no matter how beautiful a thing they create, eventually, the clay droops and falls and turns to goo. Other people have dry, brittle clay. And no matter how hard they try, parts always break off and nothing forms very smoothly. My point is, we have no control over the clay. But if we learn to use what we have, we can still make beautiful things. And for some, that is easier than others. As for you, you’re just rebounding. You pour your heart and soul into the vase because it’s pretty and the appearance is appealing. You never stop to make sure your heart and soul will fit inside without overflowing. You never stop to make sure the vase has no cracks or scum on the inside. In a nutshell – Don’t overanalyze. You’re just rebounding. You’ll be alright. Because this weekend, you’ll meet some new boy or new girl who will e “special” and “not like the others” and “so pure” and “really different” and shit like that. And you’ll be happy again. For a little while.”
(how insightful… and yet…depressing…thank you, eric)
cory’s journal from today… still speechless…
current music: psychedelic furs – torch
tonight shawn came over, bearing two peices of my camera, purple rock candy and a very old 8mm bell & howell camera. i tore into the candy and wound up the camera in awe, smiling at its shutter flips, so ancient…. we took a walk and then spoke under my tree about druids & freemasonry, about a book he is writing. he said he could not play my film because of a missing wire… i work for a film studio and could’ve gotten him any wire needed but he says he didn’t discover it til late. this is exactly why i do everything mySELF, why i don’t rely on anyone else in art or business. ah, i will just have to let this go… no use holding onto these feelings… i will have to let them all go… shawn is beautiful and brilliant but i always feel dark when he leaves…
it’s good to turn the cheek into the unknown… i’m looking forward to the weekend… flying to portland… chantal is driving from canada… we’re so spoiled to see each other twice in a month after not seeing each other for almost five years! she writes “WOW! We’re off on another adventure!! yay!! No dropping things this time!!” nope i’m leaving my camera at home… lol… on monday i will meet an old high school buddy of mine, ed from video high school!!!! i haven’t seen him in… THIRTEEN years…we’ll meet in a cafe in the hippy district of town… the hawthorne district, and spend some hours before my return flight catching up. good times, happy moments to anticipate… oh and FROUD! i’m gonna squeeze his cheeks again…must to think of my next prank to pull on him… a whole weekend of em! amy brown will be there too… maybe she’ll play my game… hmmmm… i’ve already made him blush, hidden things on him and stabbed him with a sword… ideas welcome…
cardboard & disarray
surprise & shock.
mine was the first foot out.
the weight burdens us both ceaselessly.
newspaper intentions, yet careless.
funny the things you leave behind
in an extended endless moment.
popcorn on the floor,
knives and tupperware,
comforts, stagnation, a simple life
years and months and moments…
they are not forgotten,
not discarded by current callous grace.
what is missing is what is neccessary.
circumstance tells us so.
time will pacify our confusion,
but it cannot erase what it does not own.
such leaps from pain,
such delving into creativity and ambitions.
dreams are not so distant.
i have not compromised them further in the name of safety.
i am in touch with my well springs more than ever.
the worn wooden bucket that rests within me
at the bottom of all i am
does not ever rest…
it always seeks out water,
dark pulley up to light,
perforating the dawn in contrast,
buoyant in its search,
patient to a vague degree.
and what have you learned?
how far is your heart from home now?
why are we where we are now?
and where ARE WE?
and why? …WHY???!
how…did this happen!?!
…and when will the shock subside?
it has been six months today…
since you made me leave you…
current music – coldplay – warning sign
“A warning sign / I missed the good part, then I realised / I started looking and the bubble burst / Come on in / I’ve gotta tell you what a state I’m in / I’ve gotta tell you in my loudest tones / A warning sign / It came back to haunt me, and I realised / That you were an island and I passed you by / Come on in / I’ve gotta tell you what a state I’m in / I’ve gotta tell you in my loudest tones”
me: people usually just want to impress people to hide their real selves and i tap into that real self because i have no patience for smoke and mirrors and then they open up and they credit ME for this crap when they should be OWNING their story instead of trying to impress~
jason: Guys often make that mistake……trying to impress a girl by being ‘on their best behaviour’. Its because we are overcompensating for being disgusting pigs when women aren’t looking!
jason: …I’m only HALF joking.