|71–80 of 93||‹ prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | next|
WOULD THAT I CAME BACK IN THE NEXT LIFE AS MY OWN CAT.
ah-a! bodhi zen!!
it was about the 3rd day in. we were taking a respite from the sun @ the deep end after just getting sufficiently dehydrated @ the lamplighter's bloody mary brunch and christian leans over and asks, "so, what do you think of mars?"
"ah, i don't see what all the hubbub is." i look out into the crowd of glaring light of day virtual reality no man's land w/ stripper poles and reply, "i mean, i'm waiting for something to HAPPEN. seriously dude, where are all the really good-looking, interesting, nice people?" he laughs so hard, it sends a breeze.
my gift for the playa was a plastic bag filled w/ little red hearts. some were empty, some held treasures. (you could tell if you shook it, if there was anything inside.) i first presented the bag to evonne who consequently picked an empty heart. she looked disappointed. "if you want one w/ something inside, you've got to dig deep." she dug again and the 3rd time, came up w/ a filled heart. we passed the bag around & as it went, i listened & watched as people drew meaning. the contents were tiny painted figurines i picked up in chinatown but what they came to represent to people included: someone significant they might meet, their intended true love, and in one case "it looks just like me!" finally, somebody asked, "what's the name of this game?" i said, "tell you what. i'm going to call it 'there's a bag of hearts' and we'll see what it turns into in the next 24 hrs."
people draw meaning from what they want. a great majority of experience can be chalked up to perspective. if the mind's eye is ground control for reality, then this must be the reason intelligent people seek mind-altering substances. maybe enlightenment is really just a different point of view?
i have been invited to burningman for 3 years now & unable until now to go. if i had not known all of you people, it would have been a totally other event. a little less rich, i can imagine, for not knowing all of you people.
my home is not a place. wherever space is big enough to share some common ground, that's where i'll be. -favorite thing about burningman? riding whim's permanently borrowed/not stolen bike out in the middle of the playa, completely surrounded by frenetic energy & riding free in the center of it all. there are other memories: giggle night ("ok no, seriously... stop making me laugh, i can't walk! no seriously, man... stop it!"), laying my burden down @ the temple then wiping my tears away & finding a double rainbow in the sky, slow-dancing in our tent during the last night's whiteout, and a toast @ opulent temple that said, "if ever you belonged, it is right here right now."
i'm sitting, unstranding my braids as i work this post through. there's a warmness in my melancholy, a fondness reminiscent of summercamp, wrap parties, and the like b/c the pictures & stories will never do it justice. it is what it is when it is... a living organism unto itself.
so when christian queried late in the week, "what are you going to tell people when they ask you what burningman is like?" w/ a shrug, i said, "go." and now, one week retrospect, i would add to that simply, "IMPRESSIVE."
anyone else antsy? -teensy, tiny bits o' YES, PLEASE... ANYONE...
let's hear it... shout if you hear me...
just the absolute DEFIANCE of STRUCTURE in the 1st stanza alone gives pause. it is one motherfucker of a run-on that ends w/: "the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years" PERIOD.
read for yourself (might wanna a glass of vino when you do) & when you're through, you tell me: IS IT HISTORY THAT WRITES THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE (AND WE THEREFORE CATALOG IT IN, LET'S SAY... ART) OR DO WE CREATE OUR EXPERIENCES IN ORDER TO FEED WHAT IS, (FOR LACK OF A BETTER TERM) THE "STORY" THAT WE CALL "LIFE?"
in which way is the conveyance occuring? or is it simultaneously occuring in some universally parallel way, ie the artistic & historical dimension criss-cross...
"howl" is an example of the beat essence. and the beautiful thing is although it was a "sign of the times," the words ring true today. -did you know, mr. ginsberg? could you see where we were headed? was this a commentary of this american life in the 40's or was it some kind of apocalyptic message eloquently poured onto the page? i wish i really knew what you boys were up to those days. those jazzy dazzly days... yes sir, i believe i might buy the house a round for a chance @ that.
how do you read "howl"????????????????????
"how about this?" he said, as he planted kisses over my grin.
"meeeeeeeeew... meeeeeeeeeeeew" from outside the window. i look up.
"that sounds like a kitten in a tree," i said. "yeah, it does."
we drive on. the desperate cry resounding in my ears is no doubt being exemplified by the pleading look on my face toward christian. finally he says, "we're going back."
it turns out the little guy wasn't UP in the tree @ all but DOWN in some bushes below. it took some scurry manuevering (he put up a good fight), but soon we were back in the truck & i was cradling the teeniest wee one, all swaddled up in a t-shirt.
we did the vet thing. we did the bath thing. -twice. i have never seen so many fleas on an animal in my life. and the poor guy didn't even flinch, mostly i think b/c he was well, traumatized from being spat into the world & then left for dead downtown. i figure he's about 3 wks. old.
he's quarantined for now due to a viral infection & possibly flea eggs but remarkably in good health & very rambunctious spirits. and the word "cute" does not come remotely close to describing how amazingly sweet this creature is. put it this way: mulitply the cuteness factor from this pic X 100, 50% for not being able to share his babylicious energy up close & personal & 50% for lack of sheer scale. (he fits in my hand... and my hands are about middleschool child-size.)
i do not want to know what brought this little kitten to the streets nor do i care to think about how many people it took to walk by a screaming baby animal b/f we happened along... all i want to dwell upon is the sight of 2 dudes totally cuddling it out together... one very big & one very small... both furry & very brave.
i have been told that the small one was lucky to find us. to him & to the big guy who turned the truck around, i'm not sure who's the lucky one... or who, in the end, found whom. all i can say is, it is a very fine thing indeed finding one another... not quite lost but just waiting to belong.
in the last year, i've dropped 9 prescription medications, 30 lbs., one fat suicidal tendency & a psychotic boyfriend... and now i am kicking the habit. once & for all.
you can help. here's how: 1. offer "i'm so proud of you"/heartfelt hugs. 2. give me something to suck on. ;) 3. tell me i smell goooooood.
what doesn't help: 1. tips of any kind. -addicts don't like hearing them, don't want them & will likely get angry if you toss them. 2. *THIS ONE'S REALLY IMPORTANT* friends who smoke don't pass their pack... no matter HOW much ex-smokers ask/beg/plead for a cigarette. if you're really a friend, you prolly wouldn't light up @ all near a friend who's trying to quit. -i call this a "killing me softly" moment... b/c there's never any such thing as "just one" for the addicted. pls. pls. pls. don't. 3. stories of how your relative suffered from cancer. -i have my own & i still packed away a day. (it never helps to fear people into doing anything.) -smokers already know we're damaging ourselves... that's addiction 101... weighing the pros against the cons & choosing the cons b/c it feels good. it's fucked up logic but then, so is breathing carbon monoxide.
also, WHATEVER YOU DO... do not take it personally if i bite your head off or appear lecturely/overly verbose/randomly philosophical. those are called coping mechanisms & they will subside once i start functioning rationally.
what you can expect: heightened coping mechanisms during wks. 1 & 2 when physical dependency is staved off. occasional twitching/bitching or unusual whining for about a month while the nicotine detoxes. increased need for physical contact, esp. in the 1st month to compensate for plunging dopamine levels. a hacking cough that lasts about a week and 1/2.
for the record, this is my 7th attempt. 7 is God's divine number. i was born on the 7th day. 7 is also the ultimately lucky number. and i AM in the 7 % who achieve FULL abstinence according the above figures.
today is day 4.
here's my short list (in no particular order):
my sister janine
the song "everyday" by dave matthews (lyrics: www.songmeanings.net/lyric.php
ice-cold coca-cola after sex
the softness of laura's skin
the scent of christian
mojo doing that funny little washboard dance
my cat mocha's cuddles/energy
my cat toekie's cuddles/energy
not being dead yet
the crunch of hot sand underfoot
knowing i will never be homeless
melting in whim's arms
the memory of my mom's cooking (THE best in the world)
the memory of where i've been & how far i've come
the vision of all the places i will go
mania sometimes (i'm just sayin')
doing an unnoticed kindness
doing a noticed kindness
going to the doctor & hearing the words "it's only..."
fitting into skinny jeans
getting my hair back
sunsets in africa
thunderstorms in the appalachian mountains
wanting someone else's best
... now it's your turn... TELL ME SOMETHING GOOD... better yet, SHOUT IT OUT to the Universe. we're waiting... for... all... that... good.
|71–80 of 93||‹ prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | next|