february 22, 1998
happy thinking day! wondering what it was that i wanted to get
accomplished today, when things come into your brain and create clutter
unneccsarily. then i write it down to purge. everything must arise from
a logical source, be dealt with in a timely manner, and then be resolved
in such a way that i can remember exactly which processes caused it and
fixed it. am i crazy? i'm thinking, anyway:-) just remembering that
i can't remember everything annoys me. argh. i have made a decision and
although i don't remember why, i will stick to it. because my world has
included a little bit more stuff in it lately, i'm all muddled and angst.
no reason for this. letting go of the shoulders does no good. perhaps i
need physical activity. but i haven't even seen the light of day.
writing here is like walking for me. one foot in front of the other,
paced and logical, it allows me to think clearly in no uncertain terms
and to view those thoughts immediately. yes, i really do like it here.
it's thinking day and also chantal's birthday. happy
birthday, channy-wanny, wherever you are.
you think that just because you've written someone's name, that some
force is going to magically notify them that their name is on the web.
how silly. unless that force is someone telling someone, who tells someone
else, who tells someone else. which i suppose isn't an unlikely event in
this world of ours, now separated by six-degrees ... soon to be five? will
we all know each other, one day? funny how as it grows it seems to get
smaller.
i think that there was something i wanted to do today.
perhaps it is the anticlimactism. why does everything have to have an
explanation? ok ok i'll admit.
let's talk about peaceful things. i think i've inspired someone else to
create something creative.
that's a good thing, right? i also think that the whole concept of living
here and having done something this big-which of course was never supposed
to be this big-is finally hitting me. yikes.
tossling worlds. is it some kind of power trip? not realizing that it would
affect mine. as long as the familiar surrounds me, going forward seems
like a normal thing to do. it's like one big trip. stand over here; and
it's a groovy thing to do man, helps your perspective on life. cool, far
out.
stand over there, however, and it's some bizarre form of cruelty. who knows.
just wish i wasn't so able to stand on so many sides at once. would nice
to be more linear, although i don't much like lines. *:-)*
are we at peace yet? maybe i've been staring at this box for too long.
february 21, 1998
good morning, saturday.
again, choosing food from the shelfs of our global community; travelling
across the planet so that i,
the richest of the richest, can literally have the best of everything.
the nuttiest of cheeses from the tips of the alps, fullest of wines sun-baked
on hillsides overlooking the ligurian sea, handpicked saffron grown in
windswept vallies of the medeteranian, and cabbage cured in brine at least
6,000 miles north-east of where i sit. a place as frozen in the fifties
architecturally, as the realities of these foreign places were 50 years
ago. sickening, daunting, all-encompassing and passionate. how much more
power could i have?
there is a very fragile line between describing what is going on, and
telling the truth.
february 20, 1998
email read, close program, exit windows.
uh, no.
spring is in the air and the darkness shelters me. music reminding me inherently
of the homeland chimes from the room that smells slightly of tequilla,
and the 'husband' who washes the dishes. it's not for me to describe this
spring like feeling to any american, but we feel it. tasting, now, smelling,
instinctually knowing the newness that is the spring. when the chill doesn't
chill, the dog poop appears, and sitting on the balcony is a grandiose
event. we know these things.
visions come into my mind now, dark bars collecting a motley crew, cracked
roads, huddled pedestrians, the powder blue color of the freezing but melting
sky over everything. none of this exists here, nowhere near here in fact,
and no one i know here has every known these things.
what a luxury, a blessed feeling. a gift.
monday
seems far away. energy rising, finally! it always does, it always does.
but is it fate, chance, serendipity? or completely causal, entirely activated
by one mindset which leads to another and then to another. even who i interact
with changes, it seems. new neighbors in the sloped-roofed place (now a
leak-ed roof thanks to mr. el nino, so they say), bringing new sources
of smiles in my world-and those who choose to allow it, fewer than who
should. mild beer-flavored breath, some good american supper, and the soothing
rhthmic sound of water, falling from the sky. sounds odd, eh?
i no longer go on about 'waiting long enough to find it', or 'if you
want it badly enough'...because once it's material, you really know that
speaking these words is not going to convince anyone they are true. it
really is something you have to experience on your own. but there i go
again.
february 19, 1998
watching the days go by; counting but not adding.
typing into my billboard; i can shout or i can cry.
if i make you a part of my emotional experience
you have no choice but become a part of my love.
now i collide as a dream sequence, paint images as only i know how
imprinting the mountains through the sunrise in my retinas forever;
and dream of unseen forests thawing in the spring.
they call, it all calls, to me-to you;
we speak in foreign sounds.
you may not speak at all,
take my voice as yours.
packed envelopes smooth and white. dreams
of c y b e r what?
february 17, 1998
Puck:
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idel theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck,
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So good might unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
describing details brings some closer; although it's only felt for that
brief moment
of describing. OR, perhaps my life is truly boring? i can't tell you why
the olympics
are important. if you don't feel it, i can't tell you about it, only hope
for you. but i doubt
this is true, so i needn't relive the glories and the defeats, not here,
not now. let
them fly, be free.
the little things are consuming energy today, but i will pretend that
i have enough
on my mind so as not to think of them. i'm a grown up, and thoughts can
make
me feel better. let's enjoy this empty space; let's enjoy it together,
sharing ourselves
across this e-ness. touch the screen, whisper a telephone tag into my ear.
see? it's just an excercise for the real thing, when the real thing's
not there.
but! that's the awesome beauty of this powerful and magical medium, ...
it is.
february 16, 1998
monday and i've wrapped my toes. there's a chill arrived - an
air that feels like home,
in this southern californian experience. the deepest breaths we could take
were yesterday, on a balcony with access to crisp, fresh air, a rarity
in this place. and a holiday, of sorts with one half huddled but the other
half dressed and showered and sitting in front of another keyboard not
so far from here, yet distant in our minds.
and so all i need, really, is exposure to new things and intense conversation.
the rest comes naturally. my greatest ideas are bred on this fertile ground.
but how long does a dream remain a dream?
like moving through flatland, we are no longer spearated, but our universes
have collided. we see what we can from our own perspective, with our own
tools, and struggle with conclusions.
february 15 1998
my empathy allows me to feel her lonliness, because it is the same lonliness
i would feel in the same situation. her interaction with small food objects,
cracked glass bowls, and magazines-these i understand implicitly. it's
not a deep thing, but reminds me of
moments which seem to be in the distant past.
i suppose he is right, to an extent. it is difficult to write here in
complete 'silence'. and even though i have no desire to write a story,
what is the difference between his science fiction, and my dreams?
sure, i could convince myself that i don't care what he or anyone else
says, but it would be convincing. and then where would i be? i would be
modifying my feelings like the rest. those 'they', who don't look at me
because they really are so self-centered that they're not even comparing.
dreamers and schemers...
it is like he says; just do what you do, don't think about how creative
it is;
just do it. i think that some were agreeing with this concept without truly
understanding it. how can i prove that i truly understand it? the only
way
i know how, and that's by not trying.
.
.
february 14 1998
some
people use the internet to try and sell things;
and some people use the internet
to try and say things.
.
.
.
february 13 1998
let's a go! -mario
stating affirmatives about things i have done; people i have met; and
notions of who i am.
bouncing these off a neutral-well let's say new party, is always refreshing
and nice.
not sure if i'm in the middle or observing from the outside; and knowing
i am not entirely
objective, a sense of purpose has re-entered my life and for that i am
greatful.
and now perhaps both the dogs are deceased; i will join the others and
prevent myself
from thinking about it. certain things must be done and well, the decisions
left to others
must be respected. farewell, friends. bark a song in heaven.
many pieces surrounding me now, making life more interesting and purposeful.
remnants of the past resurge to become useful...and who was i just telling
yesterday that the use- fullness of that meeting was limited? that know-it-all
grin slides over my face in this room of artificial lighting as i remember
the motivational energy which brought me to that hotel lobby restaurant
and the kind smiles from a business person turned human. thanks, ann.
'what a difference a day makes' - someone had been there.
california government code section 16.5 - what?
many warm thoughts are spilling onto this page. encrypted by my words,
i would only
like to mention their roots for my own sake. e-hugs to K, K, T, A, J, E,
B, S and C.
and along with creative stuff comes making fun analogies to DNA. large
bodies of objects, such as the world wide web and the english language;
consisting of junk hanging around from previous users...and in the end
of the end, is that all we become too? i bet it is. i bet.
and the cooincidences are still to come...
parallels between our lives; band exchanges and new friends losing friends;
and the ever most awsome one of all, the history of truth functionalism;
it is the same, only we have each defined it n our own unique words.
mine, not quite so labelled and packaged and stared at as hers;
but very much as real and very much of a transition. who's to know when
it began and if it is even over, i suppose it's just wrapped up in the
junk casing
along with my DNA.
"if i want to say what i have not, then i must
feel what i cannot." .
.
.
february 11 1998
more duality as i feel both man and mouse. conquering; learning; moving
forward; gaining more of
what i have always wanted... but still forsaking my homeland. which needs
which more? i can rationalize anything but what is right, that is what
i wish i knew.
i am pretty sure the emotional roller coaster is due to emotional empathy
on my part;
which is nice to define. business mode suits me: helps to focus and empowers
me a
great deal. i do like that, and my feelings steer me in that direction.
feeling
like there's some energy waiting for me
somewhere else: but now i know that chasing
elusive energy is much the same as chasing
dreams. having left what i left, i must now stare
at the remnants which do not often add up to
something i recognize; nor know what to do with
entirely. hearing voices which came quickly into
my life and wondering when they will truly be in my
life again. the things which comfort me are changing i suppose.
all i ask for is inertia, really. a source of energy; requiring my energy.
requiring it
and benefiting from it. otherwise i will bail, i will seek it out. i've
done it before.
.
.
.
february 10 1998
today's words of wisdom: i don't giggle.
i wish i was feeling as analytical as jnet
is these days; to think myself out of this paper bag is what i need
to do; modify my rollar coaster without modifying anything else. that's
the key. control the insides from the insides and don't let perception
get you down. don't let perception get you down.
i understand what is going on and that is the shame of it; i should
be able to change it on my own
and i'm not. am i lazy? no, i keep telling myself again and again. but
why do i get into lazy situations? suppose we all need motivation every
now and then. where is that bleedin' carrot? where is it i say!
and the energy she brings to me is yet another duality; the highs come
with the lows-the envigorating with the draining. is any of this planned?
.
.
.
february 9th 1998
did you know that this was my dream come true? i didn't. i forgot, because
when dreams
come true they have a way of distorting themselves; reality has a way like
that. and so
now i am in need of a new dream.
"i dreamed a dream in time gone by;
when dreams were made and used and wasted
there was no ransom to be paid
no song unsung no wine untasted" -les miserables
have you seen my dream?
.
.
.
february 8th, 1998
fight the physicalities; there is strength in there somewhere. feeling
actually nautious now, something i ingested didn't like me, kept reminding
me through the night. waking several times with that same near-death feeling,
head pounding and now i am taking deep breaths to avoid being sick. ugh
ugh ugh. this is to remind me how good it feels to be well. an omen? i
may very well take it as such.
water, will do me good i hope. i can feel the blood rushing to my weak
fingers as they produce these words. use your brain. it is quiet here,
a Godsend and soon i will be well. what time will that be, perhaps 10 am
or 11. i can survive until then.
some people have a way ... or, few people have a way to bring about
honesty. no way to avoid it, and you are forced to face certain realities
which make you uncomfortable, and you think; hey i wasn't feeling like
this before? and it's a disturbing yet enlightening realization that you're
not too sure what to do with.
i believe my conclusions about my goals are the real ones; i believe
in what i want and what i don't want. but given the circumstances, i cannot
be 100% sure of anything. i hope this never gives anyone the impression
that i do not know what i want, because believe i believe i do. i am just
not willing to fight nail and tooth to have it, only to be disaapointed.
maybe that's why i am not ready to go out on my own-in a business sense,
i don't think i am ready to risk failure. maybe one day i will be. in the
meantime i am learning to take comfort, great comfort in what i do have,
which is alot.
later...
it has been a nibbling day. nibbling on my mind-little apetite, little
anything really.
panic-fears every once in a while, they have been a rare thing until now.
we'll take what we can, here and now-
shared between us, amongst us, somehow.
hold it tight-and upright-and inside and out
and
february 7th, 1998
prevailing excitement inside: there is only so much i can do. a true
saturday,
the winter storms make us feel at home, nestled up inside moving boxes;
sorting photos, and each to our own world of electronicness. days like
this
could go on forever, and they do.
no globallizing strategies just now about living vicariously thru others.
that will only disturb the reality of it. perhaps most of the fun is in
not knowing
how real it is. a high-ish state even though little shines through here.
in fact, a
dullness has taken over just now and i am glad for it. the tops of the
peaks are
scary places to cohese thoughts. we all know there's only so much analysis,
dissection to go around. after which, hard rock surfaces are found, and
like
callouses underfoot whether fantasy or fact, something becomes reality.
and that's o. k.
what could i say that i have not?
.
.
.
february 6th, 1998
WOW and i don't say that very often. things
crystalizing since the sealing process,
reading emails about organic farms bare feet and small honda civics as
if i am
still dreaming. who are these people? how did they arrive in my inbox?
where
are they going? the idea of crossing between the worlds i live in is now
becoming
closer. s t
r e t c h
to the other side and you can still stay in both.
i hope someone knows what i am talking about. and in trying to vaguerize
it,
i probably sounds even odder. hmm. crinkled nose as i'm embarrased by me.
late late late it's friday and i've decided that's ok. sometimes rushing
is a good
thing, but the lights are flickering now. as i said, dreams, wonderful
dreams of
flying and snow waking as if still in a dream, cloaked in peace and purpose.
what more could one want but to feel a sense of purpose, i don't know.
and
even the ones who don't understand might know it is true.
so for a short moment in time i'm out of the paranoid state,
gaining strength from people i've never met,
dreaming of far off lands where houses do not have doors,
and picking carrots so sweet that if you held an orange under
your blindfolded nose you might believe you were eating an apple.
there are places like that, there are places like that.
i know, because i had one.
sigh, and emotional rush...between love-surges
and a sense of purpose, i'd better run now.
stand tall. prosper.
.
.
.
february 5th, 1998
more dreams, but dreaming dreams. the door-sealing must have worked.
midway through my mug, at the point where i can feel clarity coming,
but
it still has enough heat left in it to be considered hot. that's the best
part.
it is a paranoid-state if mind, if you were not raised here. advertisements
beckon, with wonderful looking rates to fly abroad. but the second thought
is...140 dollars to London, do I get a seat? (or, in this city..are they
really
selling airfare? do they exist? will i actually speak to someone if i call?)
worst part is, that it's not the apparent absence of trust, quaility and
service that i lament the most, but the fact that the system allows for
it,
meaning that there are enough people who live these standards. and
that is, to me, the biggest irony of this place. can you say dualism?
the useful lists have been gathered; old receipts sorted and discarded.
the filing box becomes a reality, somehow clean things stay clean.
(don't tell anyone but i think we are grown-ups now)
i t
t a k e s
t w o
yes, two is useful. cocooning into not only me; but us. i admit it.
sharing and learning. giving and taking. no one needs to tell me
how right it is. this is one thing i know.
"tell your boss you're sick,
hurry up i'm gettin' cold
come over here and warm my hands up boy,
it's you they love to hold
and stop thinking about what your sister said;
and stop, worrying about it yes the ca't's already been fed
come on darlin', let's go back to bed"
-Jewel
........................................
evening...
sometimes i think of joe's father. adventures of yore; perhaps on motorcycles,
he told us as children. someone who had traveled; who always seemed as
if
he'd kept the really best part of the story to himself. this is one of
the comforting
thoughts, amongst others. nothing seems so fantastic, now. nothing ever
does,
at the time. it's encasing it in the past that ripens it. a young wine
has nothing
to hide, says she.
toadstool. an old word. and a poetry contest. hmm.
i dislike calling it poetry, maybe as much as i dislike it when
people label based on one characteristic. what's with all this
dualism, based on the civil rights movement or what?
poetry/not poetry what's the fuss? obsessed with definition,
they are.
a dinner of old-world food and an evening of relaxation.
2 years ago i began printing pictures from this place.
february 4th, 1998
infusion complete; i believe the brain is awake now. already having
been down on all
fours, punching holes-yes, to actually be paid for something i am so passionate
about.
but if i was; would the passion subside? that would be the cruelest joke,
so let us not
wish for things but let them happen in their sequence. there really is
a time for every-
thing.
there are things written in this book which may not be genius, and which
i not only
understand, but feel as if i should have written. i am not going to quote
them here,
but merely reflect on their truth and gain strength knowing that i know
something.
that it is in fact my 'bible', i cannot deny. it gives me hope, and somehow,
love too.
and so after soaking in blue bubbles and digesting soup made from ingredients
prepared 3,000 miles away, i sat in my cleaness to ponder this poster which
is
not to arrive, at all.
how to celebrate, without belaboring?
rejoice, without bragging?
and create, without destroying?
the questions are the same, the words are different. chewed up and spit
out
time and time again by the fools and the wise. which are we when the line
draws ever thinner? what do we do when time begins to cease, and by that
is meant becomes something we can no longer count on. counting time is
but for the young, for now one week becomes a day and the days blend
together becoming months which we can no longer hold on to but must
take deep breaths to see. . . marking the complete artificialness of time
as we know it i suppose.
and watching time this way is exciting only because
it means that life is good. and in everything, a paradox. sigh.
.
.
february 3rd, 1998
shhhhh......
the pounding rain and wind, rhythmic outside-i could be anywhere.
who could deny a small amount of fear when the wind echos?
this is when the hot coffee, music, and oscillasting heater are
truly precious. what of those who lay in the streets, now?
a little pout as i purse my lips in prayer.
and the large waves, the largest i've seen-the ones that caused me
to squeal in delight as they crashed just below our feet,
are on the front page. quoting, now:
~The ocean through bubbles on the mount
~Crashing waves at a sleepover on the pier
~Art galleries and colorful delights on the cost
~Laughs and heartiness of old friends on the freeways of LA
~The warmth of a great welcoming breakfast
~The dream of Portugal is born -
and now it is writ.
tuesday. not feeling extremely thoughtful of late, wondering
if the american dream is having it's effects on me or if there
is something good happening. are thinking of home, of
things i know; including snow. are picturing my city; our city;
what we know, friends at home. knowing that it is possible
to adopt another place as home, but wondering if we could,
what would be the point. what is home about it. we'll see.
sore throat on the left side and still feeling mostly lethargic;
for instance if someone said 'let's go skiing', would i ?
is it a good thing to decide one is going to spend a lethargic
time? well especially since the plan was the opposite, although
it is nice to live out an opposite plan isn't it? perhaps in SOHO
i would excercise. perhaps.
infusion near completion, some sense of relaxation begins.
the little blond girl has no mirror to peer into here;
she must peer into herself-but find little reference
with which to compare. disorienting, at least.
discouraging, at most. do i find myself?
one day she will know.
watching the pictures portaying great movement to my left;
black and white photos, captured individuals-made super-human,
in moments of glory. i celebrate this glory with them, anticipate
the four-year cycle (if still in my mind) which allows the world to
stop and watch. to fly like a spread eagle, spin like a top,
or glide like a gazelle, the thrill is all mine. like a child again.
monday never used to matter but it would seem that come tuesday,
clarity of vision become that much more stable. and so on.
have i become a working person?
.
.
.
.
february 1st, 1998
shivers.
.
.
