as the world goes by

it is silent here
lonely
but the comfort
so soothing

I haven't been writing much of lately. I have been reading a lot. Reading the LA Weekly marveling at all the great things one could do if one would do them. If one had a car. Or money.

My sister is going through a break up. Rough times. I have a stormy sea too at times. But I love it.
I love Los Angeles, more and more. Every day.
Like this one person you never thought you'd ever like but then they just grow on you.
Was at my old school today, got totally tripped out. It was such a different world then. So different. So real. Surreal.

I miss poetry days with my wife. And reading Anais Nin at Pign'Whistles.

one minute

beautiful
tingely inside.
sun shining through the blinds and leaves and
a tree full of rose pink colors bursting into the hills
there is a nice little place where the French Room used to be
peaceful
so golden
a coffee
orange juice, fresh
and his beautiful eyes

relativity theory again

somebody stole the frontwheel of my bike
my brother in law left my sister, this time more for real than the times before or so we don't hope
my nephew lost a tooth and is seven years old and piscies like me and still believes in the tooth fairie
my other newphew, the older one, he ran crying through the Alaskan forests screaming for my sister's husband to come back, that was during one of the other times he left
my niece told my little nephew that tata is on a vision quest. and he took all his stuff because every little thing you have helps you find out who you are. that's why he took all his stuff. blood was on my little newphe's lips from losing his tooth and he cried curled up like a little cat in my arms.
his momma made him pancakes and later she cried in her room.
his sister has an audition today for a big movie and his brother is learning 'nothing else matters' on the guitar.
i ma go now check out this massage school

yesterday i was on third street, standing still. the light was lovely and people moving. children playing, musicians moving emotions up and down the street. i had a burning cigarette in my hand and felt like in 'Momo' but just as one of the bad grey guys.

some times

some times
you just lock in
and there is the waves rolling in
words obsolete
only the sound
rhythmically running through your body and soul

and when i met her she was there, it was clear, her eyes so near
like coals burning
and my stories bounced out of me
like butterflies in a tropical storm
i got too excited
heads over heals
healing

nothing is expected but what is in it
getting it out
loud
or not so loud
hands in hand
locked in
and you wonder 'where have i been?'

it's good to go your own way
it's good to follow your whales

lie

lie is a bitch.
makes life more difficult, sadder, lonelier.
she spins her webs in crazy circles
never leaves you out
always catches you
always finds your weak spot
excuses turned promises
fears turned trust
hatred turned love

her shadows, cast over your soul
and you don't know it
but you run from her
can't see

can't see

back into her arms

slamming

People look ways but that doesn't mean anything...

He kept crying 'Maaaama, Maaaa-hama!!!'
She finally stopped and shouted at him 'don't you see I'm talking to Emi!'
Emi is the most disgusting nickname for Emeralda.
She thinks she knows me.
But she even doesn't know my real name.
She thinks that one day I will understand how hard it is to be rich.
Maybe then we can be real friends.
For now, dear, I would like to tell her, I am your nanny and you my boss.
A horrible one for that matter.
She couldn't wait to handle this rationally and reasonable in the evening. No. She had to do it in front of the kids.
At dinnertime one of the little ones told me I couldn't have dinner that night. His parents acted appalled. Acted as if he were crazy.
He was just honest.
The whole day she couldn't look straight in my eyes.
I tried to make it good.
She misunderstood.
Said, she felt I was taking advantage of her.
I thought of the countless nights I had spent handcrafting with her for the boys, the school, the fair. The days I had volunteered for the school, for her boy's birthday.
She said I offended her, pissed her off big time. Hadn't I been sitting in the car, writing, taking time 'off' - there are your four hours off!
They paid six hours days when I was with them from 8 AM to 9 PM and after that I had to listen to her problems.
I thought, didn't you ever think about how it felt for me to have to listen to your richman's problems?
She said, I've been taking care of you like my daughter
I thought how she had treated me like her property,shushing her friends who would have liked me to work a few hours for them too...how she bragged around with me and my skills and made me cook and iron and do her laundry and pick up after her and the boys.

Tears were no option.
There I stood, barely defending myself.
Swallow your pride
Swallow your intentions
Now, do, what you never meant to do
and just keep on going


I am not a person like that, is all i said, and if you keep thinking that I will have to stop working.

We both pretended to let go of it

I never cared about any little convenience of her life
I know who my friends are
I don't want money
I just want to pay my god damn bills.

She needs me, but I am replacable just as everybody else before me
I don't need her.
But there are children involved
It's sad to see that it is almost an impossible mission

unfinished dance

The light is dim, grey in grey. Like lead the ocean seems to be one. No waves, no wind, just cold air drenched with humidity. My uncle's huge 'boat' ploughs through the water, leaving traces as if they were carved into the sea. A line of birds is crossing in the obscurity of Kachemak's night which is slowly setteling over the bay. There are people living here.
I am leaving soon.
I don't know where I will be going. I don't know what will happen. Will I find what I am looking for? Where ever i will be? There is a reality to places, such as this. There is a reality to inter-action. To what IS.
I grab my ugly sweater and bury my hands under my armpits. It is darn cold. My dad is silently gazing into the wilderness of the sky. My breath is slow, trying to make it's way through knots over knots of uncried tears. Just swallow them, don't wallow, swallow. Make peace come true. Like this surreal seeming autumn night.

A tango, from afar, like a lightening bolt. There is music in everything. I Want You To Become One.
Dance for me, come!

like the weather

I feel like the weather, sometimes foggy, sometimes bright and clear like the blistering sunshine on Kachemack Bay.
Yesterday a veil of early autumn mist hovered right over the ocean, wafting back and forth between the shores. Covering my little refuge into a grey wall, making me oblivious to the rest of the world. I heard the seagulls cry and the flapping wings of eagles, I heard the waves dancing but couldn't see none of it.
This is how depression foggs up your soul and mind when the tide is low.
A distant flute, crying strange melodies into the deep forests of our homeland that is not our home, moved me to tears.
A distant flame is trying not to be blown out by the winds of change. The winds of fate. The winds of decisions that can cut deep into our flesh and our lives.

Yesterday night around the campfire, I missed you. But your voice, it was so cold, so distant, so casual. It couldn't still my thirst for sweetness amongst the cold bright stars. I called in the hopes to find you alone but you are never alone but the loneliest knight I know. In the midst of a battlefield that is folded into grey misty cool. No fire. No songs. No soul.

Masses, masses

I do, what many people did just a minute ago: update my blog. Blogger shows me all the blogs that updated at 2:03 PM. I am going to be among those who updated just a little later.
I realized, what many have realized before me: It is not utterly inconceivable and idiotic to create a family with someone whom you only learn to love over time and whom you may never love the same way you loved your first and most passionate and intense love. In many ways it makes a lot of sense to build a family with someone who doesn't only gaze at you but also looks onward into the same direction as you do. Who meets you not only emotionally or physically but also spiritually.

A thunderstorm gathers upon the hills of my grandfathers land. He and my grandmother did that, they married just because. Later she left for his best friend and moved to Tennessee. In their case it was for the worse. They didn't really look into the same direction. They didn't really do.

And I think love is still worth it.
Still worse.
Still better.

Shhhh........

Rape

At dark night, and I am screaming. Like the woman in Edward Munch's painting. Without a sound. I wonder, what it takes. Slitting wrists? Letting go?
Sobbing I disappear in the bath tub, wrapped in towels, trying to weep myself into sleep. I always had a thing for bath tubs... The only place to hide at home, the only place to go when everything feels so wrong that laying in a bath tub is just the right thing to do. Righter than the rest.
A few eternities later I crawl back into his arms, they feel oh so good. His soul and his eyes, his smile, his love.
Hours later, thousand of miles away I sway back and forth, dancing with the wind, the grass as tall as me. The horses. The eagles. thinking back. It feels like rape in my mind. Like I raped myself, my soul. A violation of my integrity. Of my longing. Of my love. Violence shaking every inch of my body into pieces and shatter of dreams. Of who I were. And who to become. It is time to leave. Not him. But that.
Time to move on. But everything needs to be planned carefully. Like a secret. Read it here.... ;-)))

Silence

You know, he says, some things just really don't make any sense. Period. The end. NO sense whatsoever, utterly meaningless, horribly senseless. That's that! You don't always have to look for meaning in everything and all that. Sometimes, booom, it's just meaningless. And wrong in a way. You know? You don't have any idea how many things I fucked up. Gosh. I let so many doors and windows open and close and just let them go when I should have jumped right in. But I didn't. And you know, in a weird way, that's when there is freedom. You are there, in this place that you don't belong and weren't meant to be at, and there is freedom in that.

At what a price, Dad, I say and breathe a layer of ice right off my heart into Kachemak Bay. The glaciers lick the mountains across the water as if they were gigantic ice tongues and I feel a chilly breeze. The alders, the blue jays, the horses, the trees.
Pushki, Devils Club and wild roses.
Wild rasperries. Wild berries I don't the name of. Wild, wild clouds over wild wild land.

If you messed up twice, you will be all the more concentrated and ready when it comes around a third time, he says, and it always does. It always comes around again.
I hope you feel little, meaningless and small. It is good to know that. Screw the rich and the famous.

He never wanted that. Richness, fame. My mom more so than him, but she grew up on beautiful land and knows what it means to work it.
But i understand him more and more. Wealth, fame, property. I don't want that either. Money is good for food, to pay bills. And that's why you work.

work is beautiful he says. Woe those who don't have to work. There are only a few who can manage. It is what makes us human too.
When I told him about the surrogate mother, the c-section and all that he had to go for a walk. Just doesn't feel ready for this kind of world yet. I am right in it. Every day. Not for long though. Not for long.

As I get up and try to shake off the stress, the city, the airplane, the frustration at home and at work I look in the sky. I feel good. I know why.

the fall

I definitely lost some innocence and I can't blame him for losing all his respect for me. Indeed, if it was me ten years ago I probably would have crucified myself in a rageful storm of tears and disappointment. We both moved on after that year and don't talk anymore. Funny how life meanders. How we fall. How we lose touch. How we lose ground. How we lose ourselves. How we hope to be found.
Days go by and by and some morning bring the bad news: I can't do this anymore! Nah, says the other voice, trying to balance out, trying to relativize, trying to make it grey, nah, it's just your period. Period. Or the wheather or your emotional condition.
Courage? Rage? Coeur? Heart? Love? Life? Breaking away? Rageful courage? Action versus passivity? All those people who went on adventures up the Kunam Punur, down the waterfalls. Up the mount everest. Through deserts, cultures, lives, loves. Story telling for the sake of it. Nah, I don't want to be in business. Maybe a field researcher for human rights issues. Maybe this maybe that but the days stretch on and on, only sometimes a little kid's smile breaks through like a crack in the ice. Melt it away, tears, melt it away. Melt it away. Melt it away.
He is fragile, and trying, and we are bouncing off each other. He wants to be heppy I want to make him heppy. I want to be heppy. We all want to be heppy. He, she, it.
He, she, it. I, you, we, them they us.
And I know that nothing else matters.
The fall. From innocence to confusion. Trying to break through. While doing so, breaking my wings. While doing so, falling hard on concrete. Falling, not on soft green pastures. No, no. Lost and found, somewhere in the desert, a lost and found station, shattered and grey - for all who are looking for something or someone.
Theresa, where are you now.

You are sleeping, still, warm and fuzzy. Hard to leave your arms, they are golden, they are warm, they hold me. Sometimes I think of L.Cohen's 'Marianne' and how she made him forget to pray for the angels. And then they forget to pray for us....
I leave you good bye, just for a second. Finding myself in the clouds. When I come back you still will be sleeping, we'll make breakfast and go to work. Art is breathing under the carpet, tears are saved for the rain. Smiles break through me when I am angry, worries in vain.

'Hey that's no way to say good bye' (L. Cohen)

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.