San Francisco, the only city in the world

What I really miss is walking for miles, ipod on, city surrounding me. Hop on BART, walk a little more. Walk from Union Square shopping district to the massive and utterly confusing and consuming Golden Gate park. Stop at St. Brigid's and admire the stone work. Walk up and down and up and down and up and down Sutter. Bail a million times but never give up. Get lost between Embarco and Bay View. Push through the Powell crush and try to grab a 71. Walk the wrong way on Hyde and discover a multitude of joys. Muni to the Sunset, the Zoo, the Castro. Walk some more. Get a donut at Bob's at 3am, dodge the tranny hookers, give a bum a cig. Walk until the ipod gives out and then listen to the city breathe. Skate the Avenues, Marina Blvd. Sneak into the Exploratorium and have a picnic at the Wave Organ. San Francisco, life is in your streets. Anywhere else is just staying.

Some Notes from the Wedge

Yes, I love the Simpsons.
Yes, this is an owl on a skateboard.

And these are, yes, the Netflix suggested genres of movies for my best friend, I'm convinced looking at those is like a litmus test of his personality.
violent dramas based on real life
cerebral foreign movies
sci-fi and fantasy
visually striking dark movies
aaaand
romantic independent comedies
Says a lot about a person.
I'm starting a housesitting gig tomorrow. 11 days further out in the middle of nowhere. I'm calling it a "Desert Retreat" and I'm not thinking about the rattle snakes that are becoming active. Or the coyotes that might get the cats if they choose to stay outside at night and won't be chased back in. Or the storm that might come up, knocking the power out. Nope. Not thinking about any of that. I'm going to post daily about hermit crab husbandry and drying wash on the line outside and how awesome it is it have access to coca cola all the time.

Don't be afraid of things because they're easy to do.

I've known how to write since I was 5. I've been communicating with words for 20 years. It's the most fluent ability anyone has and yet I am afraid to commit to it; to use it; to embrace it fully. It's as an illness you can't control. It's only when I fall into a scribe's fit like an epileptic falling into a seizure that I find myself working.

Remember those quiet evenings

When we used to sit
after the dinner hour, after the kitchen was clean.
Curled up on a lap
was a favorite cat.
The fire crackled in the winter
over the strains of the opening tunes
of our favorite show;
over the protesting mews
of that cat.

Oblique Strategies

My new goal is to write one post a day that I wring from a different card of the Oblique Strategies. It is an exercise I've needed for some time and I only wonder why it took so long to form in my mind. I may only make it to the weekdays, since I spend the weekends trailing after my momma like a baby duck.
Maybe these will all come to nothing, maybe they will all be abominations to literature. But they are one thing: words that I've achingly, blindingly, passionately wrested from mind to fingertips to keyboard.
And that's all I care about.

To wit: The card of the day then what I feel about it.

Not building a wall, but making a brick.
Adding layer to layer. Looking at a spool of thread and seeing a dress. It's taking for granted that tomorrow will be here and I have time to grow. Nothing hinders a seedling to sprout because it knows inch by inch it will become a watermelon. It doesn't take time to doubt that spending this energy will be wasted. It has one thing to do: grow. So we have one thing. Growth is remembering what we did yesterday to add to what we do tomorrow. Growth is sticking to a goal because you know in a month you'll really have something to show for it. Growth is not a destination; it is a process.

Poems

Some verbiage from my time on Bush St.

I'm so small
that I fit
within
a drop of water
or a blade of grass

I'm so angry
that you are
a field or
a storm cloud
full to the brim
~~~~~~
you ensnare me.
I hang on
the shortest phrase,
the quarter rest
in hopes of
your smallest attention.
~~~~~~
I crept around the house
selecting meals with crinklings and rustlings in mind.
To ease your slumber;
making kills that die quietly
so you sleep
and are in turn
quiet for
fucking once.

Vacation Cooking

Who said I can't cook? Prep: Chocolate pie. Let's go. 

Really the only thing to do after Finals Madness ends is just clean the kitchen so you can make pie. I've been looking in the freezer sections of the grocery stores for a chocolate creme pie with whipped creme on top, but all I can find is fruit pies. Oh well, We'll have to make our own.

Graham cracker crust. Prefect for getting out the last vestiges of anger at the semester. Wrap them up in a plastic bag and towel and smash them against the text/project/messed up print out of your choosing!

Marvelous. Much better than a frozen confection; after all, I whipped the creme and crushed cookies and made the crust and cooked the filling. 

And all the better, because no one else gets any.

Being nothing

What is it that people do that causes them to live in a whirl of routine, hours spent accomplishing things, and living life as if they enjoyed it? Why can't I seem to find the space and time and energy to create a space that is actually conducive to me? What day in school did I miss that everyone else has self and I'm just... blank? Do I have something that everyone else is missing? That drives them to create an external life that I just hold inside? 

Living moment to moment, with plans that stretch all the way to 2pm. Is it momentum or inspiration or simply the part of the brain that handles all this that I lack?

Is it fear of failure or simply laziness? Is it apathy because I feel I don't matter?

It should be more empowering to be nothing, with no one to disappoint and no worry about mistakes. It should be more empowering, and I think can be more so if only the correct force is applied. Being incorrect, however, now that we're empowered to be nothing and no one means nothing. How can nothing be wrong? But how can nothing be with external force added? How to you wrangle this observers stance into a creators product? How can you distill knowledge from these passing glances? Can you create completely internally? What are we without what's around us? How do we escape this influence and be ourselves? Can we be anything without our society's influence? With nothing else what do we have? Take away the things we buy to accent some part of our self, take away the advertising, take away consumerism, take away wants. What's left? As it is the root, is it the most important? Or is it still just as unimportant as everything else? Are we what we make, what we do, what we wear, or what we think? Are we what we love or is it the other way around?

I like to begin my notes to you as if we're already in the middle of a conversation

Goodness this layout is boring. We'll have to fix that. For now, a bit of millenary. 

Headband for class with ribbon flowers! More later, hats are really hard to photograph.

This little blog has been neglected for quite some time. I've been searching for an outlet, a way to stay organized, to see what there is to see in this little digital Pensieve. So if you, reader-not-me, happen upon this; here's what it's like to be me.