Quitting smokes gave me my voice back. When I am alone I sing. All the time. When I am not healthy I forget about music and then when I remember it flows back through me like an alignment. This is something I've understood privately since I was a child, that sound in certain waves make energy that wails and rolls and moves invisible boulders. It changes my breathing, my heartbeat, core muscles and throat. So I know there is a fix and that it is simple and moving. That I have this cure any time I want it.
And still, I forget. And sometimes even when I remember the cure I hold out for more wallowing.
Any moment I might make a gorgeous dress of the curtains. If I come at you on a spiral staircase always check my hands for roughness.
_______________
Once in Georgetown a man approached to tell me I was a really good dancer.
He seemed more intent of making sure I knew he knew that than anything else, so I'm inclined to believe the truth of it. I mean. Right? You could have seen it too had you been looking.
_______________
I think I was once a belly dancer in a previous life.
________________
Music is a language I can't speak but understand.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Not just anybody. Help?
All the lovely people in my world are made of straight up helping magic. So my babbling here is kind of like a catalyst, an exercise in catching a feeling like a snapshot, then getting firmer with the whole concept of what's going on in my life, plus tossing in some clarity and building something out of words, and then wow here comes rapid change, and those are the bootstraps in my own hand again, and here I am, clearer and stronger and wept out, but thoroughly tested and unbroken, washed clean by the clever conversations and sincere love and affection of some of my very favorite people in the whole damn universe.
J with his confirmation as one of my oldest, dearest friends, that yes, it was jacked up in a way he saw with his own eyes, and no, I didn't misremember the intensity of those moments. And also? That whole thing was pretty fucked and unfair, but I turned out much better than OK. Thank you.
B in her sass and fabulousness, insisting with strength and softness on patio sunlight and just the right aesthetic, pointing out the angles in buildings that sprouted up when my head was down, being fierce and incredibly kind and reminding me to be exactly who I already am, but maybe a little more unapologetic, and by the way HELL YEAH LIFE. Thank you.
K, so much more amazing than words can ever express, far more emotionally intuitive than I ever was, with all that wit and those big brown eyes, appearing so suddenly when I thought I was being sly about my own big sads, and then sitting while I tried not to break down and did it anyway, waiting for a break in my words to tell me, "Get your laptop, I'm gonna go get the Cheese Puffs and we're getting in your bed and watching South Park." Thank you.
J with her huge honest eyes and delightful expression of love for everything; dogs, babies, good salsa, dancing, me without my glasses, syntax, words and more dancing. She is stunning to me, like, I love her like I'm 12 and intense and want to show her every awesome thing that exists in the whole world just because of how fucking amazing it is to watch her love something, just please keep talking and oh man please keep laughing and oh god, how we snort in the grass. I imagine her in some cute little sundress all bathed in light, and I want to burst at how impressive it is when her willowy waving arms punctuate and the angle of her nose and the laugh and the giggle and the big gorgeous mind that makes sentences so perfect it's like gorging on chocolate in a silk draped carriage drawn by unicorns. Thank you.
HC accidentally dressed like a garden, her voice full of subtle intensity, holding an incense stick, the smoke curling out over her oasis of gorgeous greenery, asking, "Do you see that cascade of leaves and textures, that white flowered waterfall of flowers? Can you picture the breathtaking magic of that when looking down from the upstairs window?" On a day that was neither hot nor cold and our children were upstairs putting on wigs while we sat with the dogs, talking about physical labor and she showed me her amazing bicep and told me I was on the right track and what we both have are a lot of totally valid dreams, and I went home knowing it is time, right now, for all of them to happen. Thank you.
B and a bottle of emergency Jameson, pretty much like, fuck a bunch of typed out affirmations, I can be there in person and you will know you don't suck goddammit, I'm solid, sincere and not fucking kidding at all about how much you don't have to ever be mentally homeless and unrooted. Thank you.
R, clear and renewed of purpose, braiding her hair and pouring more wine, always so easy to talk to, so soulfully honest, so heart wide open and eyes so focused, listening while I told her my Fail Machine story and then following me to the basement to pluck it out (even though it was hiding) and admire the shiny heavy stainless steel heft of it and then follow me cheering, to the far dumpster, in the dark night ally, where I swung it over my head and finally let it go. Thank you.
M, with that voice that goes all the way back to always, straight through circumstance and distance, every layer of time, language, subtext and tonal vibration. If he figures out how to live forever, I want to live forever too, and I hope we do because forever is already too stupidly small to fit everything in it. Thank you.
P who is lovely and makes me laugh until I'm teary with the kind of stuff you have to say in a hush, who called me the crap whisperer and watched me eat a million fries, who warmed my Polish cockles by adding horseradish to the bloody marys (who once said the naughtiest, most horrifyingly hilarious thing I've ever heard) pretty much saying, Look, I trust you, here's me and there's you and we're both better for knowing all of it so let's dig in and not do it alone because that really sucks. Thank you.
L, always. Rock and root, wind and water, so bright, so kind, so true of heart, She tells me look, sometimes these stones show up. There’s one on your heart right now, have you noticed it? How about we roll it away from us? She packs a crowbar, It always helps. Thank you.
J with his confirmation as one of my oldest, dearest friends, that yes, it was jacked up in a way he saw with his own eyes, and no, I didn't misremember the intensity of those moments. And also? That whole thing was pretty fucked and unfair, but I turned out much better than OK. Thank you.
B in her sass and fabulousness, insisting with strength and softness on patio sunlight and just the right aesthetic, pointing out the angles in buildings that sprouted up when my head was down, being fierce and incredibly kind and reminding me to be exactly who I already am, but maybe a little more unapologetic, and by the way HELL YEAH LIFE. Thank you.
K, so much more amazing than words can ever express, far more emotionally intuitive than I ever was, with all that wit and those big brown eyes, appearing so suddenly when I thought I was being sly about my own big sads, and then sitting while I tried not to break down and did it anyway, waiting for a break in my words to tell me, "Get your laptop, I'm gonna go get the Cheese Puffs and we're getting in your bed and watching South Park." Thank you.
J with her huge honest eyes and delightful expression of love for everything; dogs, babies, good salsa, dancing, me without my glasses, syntax, words and more dancing. She is stunning to me, like, I love her like I'm 12 and intense and want to show her every awesome thing that exists in the whole world just because of how fucking amazing it is to watch her love something, just please keep talking and oh man please keep laughing and oh god, how we snort in the grass. I imagine her in some cute little sundress all bathed in light, and I want to burst at how impressive it is when her willowy waving arms punctuate and the angle of her nose and the laugh and the giggle and the big gorgeous mind that makes sentences so perfect it's like gorging on chocolate in a silk draped carriage drawn by unicorns. Thank you.
HC accidentally dressed like a garden, her voice full of subtle intensity, holding an incense stick, the smoke curling out over her oasis of gorgeous greenery, asking, "Do you see that cascade of leaves and textures, that white flowered waterfall of flowers? Can you picture the breathtaking magic of that when looking down from the upstairs window?" On a day that was neither hot nor cold and our children were upstairs putting on wigs while we sat with the dogs, talking about physical labor and she showed me her amazing bicep and told me I was on the right track and what we both have are a lot of totally valid dreams, and I went home knowing it is time, right now, for all of them to happen. Thank you.
B and a bottle of emergency Jameson, pretty much like, fuck a bunch of typed out affirmations, I can be there in person and you will know you don't suck goddammit, I'm solid, sincere and not fucking kidding at all about how much you don't have to ever be mentally homeless and unrooted. Thank you.
R, clear and renewed of purpose, braiding her hair and pouring more wine, always so easy to talk to, so soulfully honest, so heart wide open and eyes so focused, listening while I told her my Fail Machine story and then following me to the basement to pluck it out (even though it was hiding) and admire the shiny heavy stainless steel heft of it and then follow me cheering, to the far dumpster, in the dark night ally, where I swung it over my head and finally let it go. Thank you.
M, with that voice that goes all the way back to always, straight through circumstance and distance, every layer of time, language, subtext and tonal vibration. If he figures out how to live forever, I want to live forever too, and I hope we do because forever is already too stupidly small to fit everything in it. Thank you.
P who is lovely and makes me laugh until I'm teary with the kind of stuff you have to say in a hush, who called me the crap whisperer and watched me eat a million fries, who warmed my Polish cockles by adding horseradish to the bloody marys (who once said the naughtiest, most horrifyingly hilarious thing I've ever heard) pretty much saying, Look, I trust you, here's me and there's you and we're both better for knowing all of it so let's dig in and not do it alone because that really sucks. Thank you.
L, always. Rock and root, wind and water, so bright, so kind, so true of heart, She tells me look, sometimes these stones show up. There’s one on your heart right now, have you noticed it? How about we roll it away from us? She packs a crowbar, It always helps. Thank you.
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