october 15.... 2010
fivethirty
am
i'm up. the entire house sleeps; fish alike
mEpwords abound
java percolates
poots is back.
fireworks in all directions point at the same space
inside, i'm twelve again
wake up, little poots, look around, take stock
it's been a while
and miraculously, the littlest one is hungry
on this day
this day.
was that sleep i had
or merely altered states
keep adding poots, keep adding
and so, beauty is now mine to find. mine.
this flatter stomach takes a breath
and some focus comes
shoulders down he called you little poots
and you told him the story of the wallaby
sip - both hands on the big mug today.
momentarily, fear, and simultaneously joy
how does one spell simultaneous
those moments come back now
those only created by trauma, and the only trauma i knew was dragging
myself to california
and back.
it's the only inspiration i have now
the smell of jet fuel at 5.30 am in el segundo
in the dark
i drove him to work
what drove me to do that?
but the drive along sepulveda; the long, long drive, wound with
christmas, canyons, whole foods, and hermosa, ends here and now.
it's not black and white
october 14.... 2010
awash in
beauty; all around me
it's everywhere i turned today
surreal but there
from louiseville to grandmont
and to louise inside and out
four hours of throbbing music;
throbbing inside:
throbbing out;
running thru permutations, combinations, calculations
someone, not knowing, has succeeded in more ways than one
i can do the math
i can add it up
wednesday, october 13.... 2010
later...
ferris
turned over a few leaves today...
writing with certain trepidation
at the end of a long day.
feeling magical
all over
miners freed, keys found,
poots will sleep tonight.
Would you
mind if I pretended we were somewhere else,
doing something we wanted to,
'Cause all this living makes me
wanna do,
is die because I can't live
with you,
and you don't even care.
Would you mind if I pretended I
was someone else,
with courage in love and war.
I use to think that's what I
was,
but now this lying hurts to
much,
and I don't know what for.
I'm weak in the knees for you,
but I'll stand if you want me
to.
My legs are strong and I'll
move on,
but hunny I'm weak, in the
knees.
Would you mind if I walked over
and I kissed your face,
infront of all your friends.
Would you mind if I got drunk
and said,
I wanna take you home to bed,
Oh would you change your mind?
I'm weak in the knees for you,
but I'll stand if you want me
to.
My legs are strong, and I'll
move on,
but hunny I'm weak, in the
knees, for you
serena ryder
wednesday, october 13.... 2010
poots,
in her forty-fifth year, is determined to prove that she can work.
work through arpeggios with kathrin;
through nights of bad sleep with the mEp;
and through daily life, a marriage, and anything else that might take
some energy.
it's mostly mind over matter
everyone else does it, and more...
but they have to, says cynthia. alas. and that was the comment that set
me about here on sept.26
"you've always been peddling downhill" were her words
at 45, i'm determined to change that.
what's the fun in downhill? what's the reward, even worse. and, what's
the accolades. nothing.
it's a zip zip zippy morning for poots on this wednesday. down faster,
java, words, spit spot,
and back upstairs quickly to shave those armpits.
october 12.... 2010
music to
move me
"i'm weak in the knees"
books to haunt me
Columbine
a sleep
to ruin me
october 11
we know
what Selma thinks of happiness
poots says through bad-sleep lip quivers
the bottom of the cup comes faster on these kinds of days
october 10.... 2010
awake
alone at eight fifty-four pm,
a copy
of 'Columbine' in hand,
the hamster stirs as his nightly routine begins.
deep breath, in. out.
it's real, i'm back.
it's the end of a headachy day for poots
dancing night of oysters, a bonfire, too much vouvray, and a whole lot
of people who spent too many hours on the champlain bridge.
somehow the garage got cleaned!, the cantina re-orged, the cousins
visited, and a whole many little tiny black things got strung,
delicately, to dry. the whole world is preparing for the main event.
so shake
your head out poots; shake it dry;
belly laughing with the cousins is good for the soul; and the hangover
too
and the big one doing some modern dance was a sight for all eyes to
see,
his comprehension of those movements and their interaction with the
planet
is the main reason you love him; no one else could understand that
rona runs;
poots slows down; eyes nearly closed;
it's
time to go and give thanks for your new mattress
and everything castorlicious.
october 8.... 2010
bursting
with juxtaposition - it's a beautifully photogenic day
as poots
makes her way
today
a newness envelopes an oldness; mild canadian music serenades me while
obaachan fries polish sausage in the kitchen...
i can't explain why i call her obaachan; well i could, but i won't
and
driving about ndg in the rain in october
the freshness of this old place comforts me;
the privacy of it (pronounced privacy) a delicate balance
a warm blanket amongst friends;
it's
only uniquely mine
only uniquely yours; like dancers
covered in white powder; we interact
but we don't...
interacting directly reminds me of ransacking my own room
it's the only way i know how, if you don't...
i'm intense
maybe too intense, for most of you
what do
the new faces
in those pictures think of me;
we're all looking at me again together;
is it someone i know, i used to know her
and the precarious balance that is that which is in between new
and old.
it's an
odd place to find yourself but i need to discover it
and do something useful with it
there
are luxuries in life; many are mine;
the one i treasure the most is this one.
and that
really is something i can't explain.
2:51PM
october 8 2010
october 7.... 2010
chocolate cakes and ACBIS upgrades swirl around poot's
head ; amongst other things, and secrets.
rainy morning on poot's street leaves the family still sleeping and
poots cheating, the mug empty...
plastic
glasses, warming up, but very well rested, two days in a week.
planning.
maybe
scheming.
tantric
yoga
and
places
i've
never
been
before
would i really make a documentary? or would i just write it down...
i can't
say for sure. i know i would bring jillian with me
poots,
relax your shoulders; it's the best part, remember.
remember
all the advice they all gave you
remember the good words, not the bad
remember bill, carolyn, cindy,
and then in a nidra/shoulder moment: discard them all, poof, they're
gone.
it's only you -
and you, too.
thrilled for this moment, thrilled for the new bed, thrilled for fall,
wow, thrilled, that's thrilling.
march your slightly flabby 45 year old frame upstairs now and move into
the matrix for the day
shoulders
square;
as
they
seem
to
be
all
of
a
sudden,
voice
sharp;
head
held high, at least for this day.
because
i think themEp is back
and
widely, deeply, a smile crosses my face and slighlty flabby body
too.....
september 26.... 2010
another paperless sunday brings poots, red-mouthed, but
well-dreamt and alone, to this place. lucky she.
what is a paperless sunday, it's every sunday now, it's piles of
saturday papers beside me, but yesterday's news.
i'ts a perfect cup of java today, it's woken by a phone call from a
dream where my camera didn't work just when i needed it to.
otherwise, i had a cynthia story for you scribbled on the dashboard
going 30 through westmount one day.
it was about things you can tell someone whom you've known that long
it was
about how you can tell them things that only they would understand:
that no
one else interprets in the same way:
and you didn't even have to tell them that they did
they just know it
and do it
but i forget what it was
and i've lost the paper i scribbled it on
but i don't mind because since then there was sarah jones in the desert
haunting us like an angel
i don't mind because i'm here now, less than a week after it happened
i don't mind cause she's coming to town and we're going to a Hundredth
Birthday party!
i don't mind cause i read two large papers yesterday, i drank some
great wine last night,
we talked about cars of all things, but we all talked, we even laughed.
cause the fish is swimmin' and the hamster sleepin
my head's not pounding
and the java's good.
september 19.... 2010
all of a sudden - poof! - poots is paperless on sundays.
how did it come to this?
but it's
nice to be alone here in my quiet corner.
the rest of the place is still far too noisy and becoming moreso;
an
entire assortment of interesting things are transpiring
inside; outside; and even all around us
days tranform into winter, slowly, at a regular pace
the little one transforms into a bigger one
washing
her hands
combing her hair
doing her homework
as the hampster bites unexpectedly
and all of a sudden - i have time to think.
and so
vast expanses of mind are in front of me
empty; mostly
i'm drawn to TED, to Urban ZEN, to
The Webby Awards;
june12.... 2010
still quiet here - poots is generally lost in jesse-world of
late;
some observations have poots firmly esconced in middle age;
i need to remember that the little one is still little
maybe i always thought older gentlemen were to be respected
but somehow i'm not sure
for the record
the world around me is wet
brighter - with a big door -
but wet indeed for a superb may following
there is no paper
the family sleeps
it's week-end; not tunnel's end
"and all the days will wrap around our fingers: they'll hang around our
hearts like bits of gold"
"and every tear we counted, every memory that we thought would linger,
dissapears oh it disappears"
-jann
arden
so i
think life is coming back, that is the bottom line.
out with the Romanians for one; lively people;
dundee is exciting, for a while,
feeling like something interesting will happen
recognizing the world around me
sometimes there's not much time left
and other times, anything is possible
as i encourage her, show her things,
i don't know much about them
but they are there
i can no
longer keep all my wild thoughts in my head,
would i wait 15 minutes for a second marshmallow, asks the mormon one
i need to train her well
and now folks, back to facebook
may13.... 2010
hey,
it's not facebook;
maybe
no
one's watching (except you, simon)
from a place where we wanted to be seen; now we are hovered over;
picked
apart;
everyone's
watching....
it's what we wanted, no?
ssshhhhh;
no one is watching here;
we can say what we feel
feel what we think;
lurk
it's the matrix now
and they're all connected:
they don't know it
but they are
how scary is that.
is it
like the old days;
typing in ste anne de bellevue
on the second floor
with a bottle of port
and
james
james
was watching
now;
for
once; back where you were;
it's late;
it's dark;
nothing has changed
peace
words
coming
no matter
where poots looks
her old haunts are there
and
mostly
she
is too
can we get listed in fancy blog lists?
unlikely.
we're not fancy anymore poots
but.
we were here then
and we're still here
that's a good thing, no?
it's
still the same peace.
the same beauty.
the same words.
the same keyboard.
the same me.
the same not you.
i like it
still.
jan 21 2010
I had
a
dream
it’s a life we can’t live
buried under our stuff;
from the outside looking in
I wonder who’s on the inside
and who knows reality
jan 14 2010
second attempt
things like
singing and buying stocks have something in common; it’s the things
that connect all start-ups;
the inertia to do something: it’s either there or it isn’t.
do you
have to really want it or can you convince yourself that you really
want it in order to get what you think you want.
I
want
to hit that note, but does my life depend on it? I still derive a lot
of pleasure out of my own singing, imperfect as it may be.
And,
as
for the 200,000 dollars, I guess I really don’t want it badly enough.
freedom comes from having the freedom to choose: not from being bound
inside something: that makes me free now:
so why is it not enough:
jan 05 2010
