another sun and moon

2010-11-19T08:44:00.001-08:00

2010-11-19T08:43:00.001-08:00

2010-11-19T08:42:00.001-08:00

2010-07-27T20:39:00.000-07:00

& my dreams keep persisting, and the question is always humming "when will i be ready?"

2010-05-20T05:49:00.001-07:00

2010-05-17T05:53:00.001-07:00

2010-03-24T08:30:00.001-07:00

2010-03-15T13:36:00.001-07:00

2010-03-15T13:35:00.001-07:00

2010-03-12T12:59:00.001-08:00

2010-03-08T15:22:00.001-08:00

2010-03-08T14:09:00.001-08:00

2010-03-07T19:52:00.001-08:00

2010-03-06T20:22:00.001-08:00

2010-03-05T20:28:00.001-08:00

2010-03-05T20:27:00.001-08:00

2010-01-21T11:34:00.001-08:00

2010-01-21T11:23:00.000-08:00

rediscovered jems from childhood

2009-12-07T07:15:00.000-08:00

THE END - LE MONDE DU SILENCE 1955 COUSTEAU
Uploaded by this-is-the-end. - Classic TV and last night's shows, online.

my mom has all of cousteau's "Monde Du Silence" on VHS, which she used to play for me so I would sleep as a wee creature. of course, i was more fascinated by marauding frenchmen and strange aquatic life then tired.

2009-11-27T13:37:00.000-08:00

current anatomical fixations

2009-11-09T17:08:00.000-08:00

i dwell in possibility

2009-11-09T16:42:00.000-08:00

sometimes i find myself in a daze of days watching fragments
do run to
each other connecting in full-blown spiritual ecstasy,
the fractal effect of every moment truly opening itself
up to my awareness.

a giant snake of occurrence,
swishing tail, clocks giving up, realizing I finally
had the cold hard evidence needed to disprove their
authority.
fortunately we are all unfortunate.

2009-10-14T22:00:00.000-07:00

found things

2009-10-01T17:49:00.000-07:00

2009-09-16T18:21:00.000-07:00

Niña morena y ágil, el sol que hace las frutas,
el que cuaja los trigos, el que tuerce las algas,
hizo tu cuerpo alegre, tus luminosos ojos
y tu boca que tiene la sonrisa del agua.

Un sol negro y ansioso se te arrolla en las hebras
de la negra melena, cuando estiras los brazos.
Tú juegas con el sol como con un estero
y él te deja en los ojos dos oscuros remansos.

Niña morena y ágil, nada hacia ti me acerca.
Todo de ti me aleja, como del mediodía.
Eres la delirante juventud de la abeja,
la embriaguez de la ola, la fuerza de la espiga.

Mi corazón sombrío te busca, sin embargo,
y amo tu cuerpo alegre, tu voz suelta y delgada.
Mariposa morena dulce y definitiva
como el trigal y el sol, la amapola y el agua.

- pablo neruda

eroding worlds

2009-07-30T12:14:00.001-07:00

tree stories

2009-07-30T11:43:00.000-07:00

2009-07-27T22:56:00.000-07:00

i walk with vines and jungle cats.

great grandfather jaguar visits me now, links me to the fine lines and the inbetween worlds. he shows me that jungle walk, and brings me to himself in comical manifestations. crossing worlds and making our reality.

land(escape);

2009-03-08T22:16:00.000-07:00

subterraneously;

2009-03-08T14:01:00.000-07:00

masks;

2009-03-08T12:27:00.000-07:00

(i) woud like to

2009-02-16T16:24:00.001-08:00

admit that in moments of wanting to rip apart all the seams and seems of my creaturecomfort realities, that there's this heavy burden of self. self awareness self consciousness self love self hate self pity self righteousness. i must admit that i have a steadfast record of crawling desperately up walls and out of my skin to escape; getting empty loving from runners and running from true loves.
when i was a small and my heart would throb so loud&heavy in my ear - i thought i would boil over crazy, mom would kiss it away and tell me this will pass. i would cry and make myself sick to keep from going to school, and she would say nothing stays the same, it'll get better. when i would rant and rave about the cruelties of people, in her manner, she simply sighed, everything & everyone changes.

there is no steady, no stable, so why try and build my life around these notions.
i am a creature of perpetual motion, and so are you.
thankful to excersize realizations; to take two steps forward and one step back as long as i am not walking anyone's path.
truth is a pathless land.

i've checked out and gone for a run.

2009-01-20T20:37:00.000-08:00

the cold is filtering through the gaps in my window, settling chilling comforting. soft reminders of north country winds that call for hard city walks. spinning songs carried on windburnt cheeks and rouged mouths. that old city cold that makes your eyes water and calls for retired scarves and gloves. tired black sack lays at my bedside, mouth wide and anxious, half full with wintery notions, journal and camera. my nerves are screaming for movement, not concerned on how i spend this rotation-celebration.. no, just screaming to get out.. to shiver and dance through unknown weather and weave and dodge in the undergrounds with all my belongings and sweethearts at my hand.

2008-12-10T06:15:00.000-08:00

alive alive alive alive alive

creaturecomforts

2008-11-28T06:38:00.000-08:00

it's pure devastation; the urge to start wildfires in the mind and let it all keep burning. always just enough to keep my hands warm, i suppose. winters are a repetitive pattern of heartache, soulchange, running and hiding. another blow to tightly kept optimism. the cyclic; creation .. destruction. i'll let the fire burn out and watch, and wait for the solace in a sprig of green.

the battle for good juju

2008-11-21T07:15:00.000-08:00

it was a relief catching the train.
it's that.
it's simple.
i'd missed the blurs in windows, sundazed naps, and dizzyreading.
accordian humsongs; absentminded melodies.
lazily chugging along through backwoods. staring through crypt woods, gutted homes and rusted cars -- all winking back in the sun.
feeling like a giddychild watching the green burn out to yellows and reds.

(train-life journal entry/words without thought braingame)
having no trouble recognizing patterns in my sleep solar sequences reflected back in lunar ponds light filters light washes drumming concoctions of everest proportions seeking truth seeking solace traveling astral planet to planes realistic Isms the worship of cellobodies goddesses booming bass lines on your arterial pulse rubyrosed children flight absurd in green pastures doing little to pass the time laughing tree limbed notes drifting dwelling dying fat belly of melancholy exuberant mirth on the lips of dogwomen blacklimbed dancing perceptions in cataclysmic symbols of alterations alternations self progression backbending heavenly stretched past smoke stacks and communication unknown unknown unknown ambrosia lotus feet streaking golden paths in the dirt roads only finding no one hear in trees or written in skies on the tongues of wolves and ghost feather father / smoke sweltering curliques feed incessant plummet through trees through trees

begin

2008-10-28T16:58:00.001-07:00

it's never a question of knowing who you are;
you never lost yourself;
you've always known;
i am always myself.

wise womens

2008-09-27T00:29:00.000-07:00

in late nights and rambling discoveries to my sister
she has the honest and kind words i need to follow through;

"This is growth
Here are your stretch marks"

aditi;

2008-09-17T10:28:00.000-07:00

we lived in a small mountainpass village in india. seeping summerheat and life hung in the air; oranges and reds color-reflected all the joy and feverish emotions. naomi and i tended to the smaller animals and stayed with the smallest children. we had our duckling herd, who followed at naomis heels. i had sewn together bands of feathers and tied them to her ankles when they were born and had imprinted on her.. there were also fat rabbits and one particularly obese cat who seemed to be ours and we had jokingly named ganesha because of its elephant-size. there were a few others that had come with us (the most distinct face is hildi), but most of my interactions were kept to animals and babes and my sister. we were caught in the minute details and workings of the village and had gone from being foreigners to contributing and accepted. we had no past, we accepted the future and lived for the present; keeping to simple ways that the village mothers instilled in us under the vedic goddess - aditi. it was close and familiar and too beautiful for words. swallowed and kept safe in the belly of mountains; snug in simple living.
then darkness started saturating slowly; drip by drip.
reinier was.. he was caught up in documenting something with the village that forced him to be away often. we all had our roles, and met in the middle in love and understanding. still, issues with what information was being gathered was bubbling under the surface; never being discussed with the women. it was mostly out of protection, and maybe some denial. things finally came to a head when three european men came. they were all pleasant, and distinctly french. naomi and i were really curious about news from the outside since we were essentially cut off from information flows for months at a time. they all sort of skimmed over topical events, but it felt like they were hiding something. the youngest of the three became more directly involved in a friendship with us and eventually told us that they had come to the mountains seeking refuge until they could safely get out of india; and apparently reinier was trying to get all of our visa's processed as well to get the group out (not known to us). our friend had some news about global border shutdowns as a result of -----, and a tremendous antisemitic backlash. most E.U. citizens were okay despite border troubles, except the trio fell into the french-jewish category and had been unaware of the visa problems they were going to encounter since they had been nomads for the last year in asia.
india was one of the last countries effected by -----, and the urban centers were now just outbursts of violence. everything was in flames.
the mountains were our refuge, but no one knew for just how long.
seasons changed. we saw less of reinier and some of the other men in our traveling 'family'.the winter was settling and making death and transition known to us all; our colors were fading. more and more unbending foreigners were taking toll on our microsociety and we couldn't sustain everything and everyone.
especially now with the unbalance of having people who knew nothing of agri-life and had little respect for the way things had to be done to keep harmony. our solidarity was eroding under the pressure of strangers. even technology had resurged in our lives, and at some point there was a hut built as a small cinematheque.. the new arrivals wanted creaturecomforts. even though we were hesitant, we still go to lay on the floor with blankets to watch films projected on a large undyed tapestry.
it's on one of these nights that we're uprooted after reinier and the frenchie return; looking more more haggard each time they come home.
the move is devestating, particularly to us and the other women, who had become embedded in this place. the villagers had decided long before not to leave, and although things are uncertain its the only path they can accept. still, there's mothers who had entrusted many of us with the lives of their babes. naomi and i both leave with a child on hip and at hand. there's love and encouragement from old teachers, and most of us have now stepped fully into the role as mothers.
it's a midnight exodus through the mountains, and when we're finally 'safe' from exposure to bitter cold and at the train station it's then we realize we're mankind's refugees. there's no game plan, and no safe haven anymore.
we're back in chaos and tumult and our only chance at survival is nomadic life.
we're crossing the collapsed mountain border on an overpacked train with viciously corrupt 'officials'. the colors are gone and its all greys and inky blues. simply trying to keep to each other; to not lose hope and keep our fire going.
we, the women, have already decided as bhutan being our best hope but we'll have to make the crossing on foot from our stop in nepal.
the last bit becomes a haze of a strife while on the train, reinier and his camera come under question, the youngest frenchie comes under fire for his obvious jewish heritage. one of the attack dog officials pistolwhips him and ----

i woke up. bathing in sun and sweat.

yesterday,

2008-09-11T17:10:00.000-07:00

was one for the birds.
today, everything is in a good and right place.

"somewhere along the way i found out i was happy"

2008-07-19T06:02:00.000-07:00

i'm home, but still caught somewhere in between dreams. the escapism of not wanting to be
where i am. one of those weeks where i would like to see the people i love, but have no energy
to stray out of a mile radius. still, sometimes rescued or joined by a warm body. closed off from sunshine, which is a drastic change to the last two weeks of blinding light and waterfalls.
i've somehow been content enough to sit around and study my books and sing myself little
melodies to sleep.
sickly feverish dreams, all quickimage'd fucks anyhow. completely
incoherent. mostly infinity. mostly mountains, trees, and yarn. sunflowers, which is disconcerting. boots, piles of dead leaves. silly sing song tunes. shake sugaree has been reoccurring. sometimes floating in a nonexistent box on a nonexistent plane with infinite knowledge.

today, though. todays the day for sunstorms and family outings. and much needed love from familiars.

alternate takes

2008-06-18T22:23:00.000-07:00

it happened again. familiar bed, familiar boy beside me. and incredibly familiar alternate takes at realities. it was all thunderstorms today. rain beating against the windows, curtains drawn as we tried to sleep.

there was a large window in his bedroom. you could crawl through it and out onto a rickity, wooden balcony with no railing. the standard pillows, paints and cups. it was four of us, doing the natural thing.. talking bullshit, passing the bowl and staring at the overlaying canopy of night sky and a large lake. tino, rein, some unknown friend of rein's and i. the 'unknown' was interesting and charismatic. silly talks of 'gorks', and elitists turned into a group mess on physics. there was that manic midnight turn of "lets all go to the lake!" from this point i hadn't paid much mind to the house... but then it was clear it was completely enveloped in a grove of trees/think Swiss Family Robinson-style.

instead of going inside, there was a rope we went down from the 2nd story. all of us were running to the water as though our life depended on it, that sort of bellyfeeling that you get when you're young and you put all of your spirit into doing some of the most mundane tasks. tino made it before us and ambushed a bunch of wet ducklings which he had in his arms by the time we reached him. sort of one of those "what the fuck?" moments passed with surprised laughter and he let them go... strange thing was when they shook out (almost like dogs) their feathers ruffled out into the most goddamn fluffy-abominablesnowducks you've ever seen. we didn't have much time to pay mind to it when i spotted the golf cart to the far right of the lake.
"they're not actually going to.."
two guys, in a golf cart, hauling it from onside of the lake. we're watching it in a surreal panoramic view. they push it full speed to the water's edge and keep going.. over the water.. it was almost cartoonish; when you see wiley coyote go over the cliff's edge and hang for a moment. gravity suspended. they make it to the center of the lake, sink, and drive up to the other side.

there's a blackout here, i think i physically woke up. looked over at reinier asleep and drifted back off... the next thing i know of that dream is a continuation where i wake up in bed with him, same scenario except with the addition of a large, old english sheepdog. instead of going back to sleep, however, i get up and go downstairs.

this is where the realization of the construction of the house really starts to sink in. its almost shambles but well constructed shambles. ragtag, wooden, but functional. think Swiss Family Robinson. also, everyones claiming to be siblings and all related to reinier. the closest feeling i can convey is Peter Pan-ish Lost Boys. it was like a United Colors of Benneton ad. the family ranged from 2 year olds to 35 year olds of all ethnicities. a mess of people; everything alive with morning activity. someone pours me a cup of coffee, and i go over to the (massive) living room to sit
with the littlest ones.

my favorite bit of the whole dream. after i told reinier, he made a nice note of the possibility
of them being indigo children...

they're all gathered in front of massive television screen, it looks really modern except for the retro-bunny ears ontop. there was probably about 5 of them all on the floor, some on bellies or sitting up...none of them over 6 years old. they're totally fixed on the current segment of the children's show theyre watching. it brings to mind old images of psychadelic-handdrawn-sesame street segments with numbers/letters. there's this great countdown to the segment that i remember vividly. 3 being a giant turtle/ 2 a flamingo / 1 a tree.

and i'm thinking its going to be standard counting, and they're all going along with it out loud. they know this.. except it turns out to be counting off the square roots of different numbers.
i sort of pause. have some coffee. enjoy the colors, observe the babes, and walk back over to the kitchen. in the dream i'm definitely taken aback by it, but i sort of accept it. its like when someone warns you that you're going to get a pie in the face. you know, but you're still going to be a little shocked that you're face is covered in pie..
the only two introductions i can recall are: an older 'brother', probably about 28, that we had apparently met before while at a party.. we had a simultaneous blackout and had woken up on opposite ends of a bench together. and a younger 'brother', a cute haitian boy about 6/7 years old. it was a really great passive moment. me shuffling with my coffee, and him with his a kiddiecup and juice.
"hey, whats your name"
"dre"
"cool, i'll remember that"
i thought it was comical, how mature he was.. even with the sippycup.

another blackout.

we have a huge outing to a white sand beach not far from the house. theres been a giant platform/foundation thats been built on some higher ground beside the water. kids are
playing in the shallows with the family dog. some of the older 'uns and i are all sitting on the edge of the foundation, talking about whats going to be built. reiniers with us. someone unfolds a bunch of plans/images for the construction of the next
house. the architect of the project is David, funny enough. its something between 'park guell' and a greecian home.

weltanschauung

2008-06-02T14:05:00.000-07:00

"dreams watching each other narrowly"

i've come to the conclusion that it must be something in the air
or collective unconscious.

since last friday i've rarely had rest, mostly just tossed between fragmented
dreams and tales.

(friday)
+ camels

excruciatingly vivid reality of being in the desert, and on the lam with eddie.

saturated but natural blues and oranges.

everything was stark contrasts and i've been pouring over desert pictures to try and pinpoint this one. i think i've got it down to the "Dead Vlei" desert in Namibia. i can never remember the beginnings of things, but we're on the run from either slavers or a

very angry sect of bedouins (geographical clash is what has me hungup). we're on our last reserves and have lost most of our group (faceless).

the only thing keeping us alive and free is this herd of camels. probably 10 to 15. each of them painstakingly ornate and beautiful. again, picture-pouring. this is the closest thing i came to. however, these camels were head to toe covered in a dust pigment (similar to the effects of indian gulal). each had individual markings on their hide, color, silks. they reek of thick flowers; like a gardenia scent. from the get-go they're our family, and protectors.

sand permeated everything of our lives. the whole story is struggle and narrow escapes. the last fragment of dreamlife i remember was making it to the water; i don't remember a ship or anything that saves us, but theres finally this washup of relief. i've never seen images of the Skeleton Coast before i started researching into this. the images are perfect; entirely too perfect and true.

(saturday night)
+ cave

it started in some gateway sleep, The Book's "Lemon of Pink" was drifting on a reed and i kept having this really foggy image/felt almost like a choppy film of a cave being lit up by different floating embers (but no fire). the cave is sort of, neutral, it doesn't feel comfortable or menacing. it just Is. there was a masked almost decrepit figure with a walking stick slouched in the cave; lit up in brief moments when the embers would drift by. very shamanic, without actually being a shaman. the lights would bring to life images on the walls, colors, even faint sounds (probably the sleep music seeping through into dreamlife). the most obvious sound that really stands out in my mind were birds; but not chirping.. almost like a language. i shook myself out of it before actually falling asleep; i wasn't the only one in a different place... but reinier explains his images better. theres rock cloud formations and a sunset.

the rest of the night was in and out of dreams i can't recall. it was definitely contagious, and sleeping beside rein was overwhelming. at one point i snapped out of a dream to turn over
too quickly to look at him; just as he had opened his eyes only a moment prior to look at me. it was a really panicky eye-lock.

after the night at reinier's i was exhausted, despite sleeping in until noon. i got home, ate a bite and curled up for another five hours. it was if i hadn't slept at all.
the afternoon felt really feverish, and i woke up in coldsweats a few times. i can only remember two dreams, the first is one of my "norm" dreams. where everything is very plausible, almost mundane, and feels like a memory. it's like a dreamish dejavu.

(saturday afternoon)
+ blonde haired babe

i hop out of a black car with odie, were in the middle of a talk and are parked at the edge of an open field. the smalltalk ends when she points out that everyone is here. we start walking out to meet a group of guys, who just finished playing soccer. eddie is at the front of the group, reinier, big bear and i think dennis
are in the group.
eddie's holding the hand of a small, probably two year old girl, with brilliantly blonde/gold hair and vivid blue eyes. she breaks away from him, and rushes out to cling to my legs. she's not exactly frail.. but light, thin for her age; lacking the fatcheeks which makes her eyes look even more startling. i scoop her up and were on our way to a sort of gym. except it's decorated beautifully. it's almost like a circus-rehearsal gym? more friends pour in; the girls. eddie, my daughter(?) whos in a papoose on my back, and i go up a wooden ladder to a half-loft that overlooks everything. there's earthy blankets and pillows everywhere, and we just lay there watching everyone form a circle and play some sort of word-association game. catching wisps of laughter and words; we're having our own conversation which i know was beautiful but i can't remember.

the girl is sort of half-asleep on my belly as we talk, making little noises here and there. she never speaks throughout the dream, even though i do address her at certain times. she responds with childish flittering, almost her own language, that none of us question and, in fact, understand. during our conversation, i start breastfeeding her. not for nourishment because shes old enough to eat,
more out of creaturecomforts and closeness.

+cave reoccurance

the second dream/shortest, i revist the cave. it's more vivid the second time around. no 'shaman'. reinier and i are instead playing a hand game, communicating in some other language and giggling. this is the only dream where i'm looking at myself; i'm around the same age/possibly a few years older, the only notable difference is that my hair is to my waist. the cave is more lit up; more 'embers' circling in the air. the ceiling seems lower, and the illuminations on the wall are more natural. no colors or sounds this time around, but simple images/symbols. the details are sketchy. there's a lot of peacock feathers scattered around us. we discuss whatever is brought to our attention by the 'embers'. it's as though were piecing together a story, but we aren't allowed to see all the images of it at once. it's draining to do so, and there's no exit to the cave. i eventually fall asleep in his lap.

Sunday, Eddie and I had a talk and we watched a beautiful documentary of Edgar Cayce. It started the search into Akashic Records; and made me want to jot these bits down.

untranslatable

2008-06-02T13:41:00.000-07:00

(greek) meraki: This is a word that modern Greeks often use to describe doing something
with soul, creativity, or love -- when you put "something of yourself" into what you're doing, whatever it may be. Meraki is often used to describe cooking or preparing a meal.

(spanish) duende [dwen-day] (adjective)

This wonderful word captures an entire world of passion, energy, and artistic excellence and describes a climactic show of spirit in a performance or work of art. Duende originally meant "imp" or "goblin" and came to mean anything magical. It now has a depth and complexity of meaning that crosses artistic borders, from flamenco dancing to bullfighting. The Spanish poet Garcia Lorca wrote an eloquent essay on duende that explores the complex and inspirational flavor of its sense, and I know no better introduction.

(french) esprit de I'escalier [es-pree de less-ka/-iay] (idiom)

A witty remark that occurs to you too late, literally on the way down the stairs. The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations defines esprit de l'escalier as, "An untranslatable phrase, the meaning of which is that one only thinks on one's way downstairs of the smart retort one might have made in the drawing room."

my favorite untranslatable words; stolen from an old NPR morning edition segment.

clouds

2008-04-11T10:08:00.001-07:00

finding yourself inexplicably laying on a rooftop learning stranger songs;
palmtopalm & cheektocheek. children with bellys full of laughter, giggling
until mothermoon is bright and smiling. matching up the lines of their hands
and comparing notes of thumbs and things.
"i'm glad you are the way you are"

the summer is already itching at her toes.
time to pack up the gypsy caravan; grab friends, lovers, oranges and just

roam.