january, february, march,

more Extroverted Previews...

vacation mep

or:

MAY DAY! MAY DAY!

the test has failed for now. :(

the test did not work. let us try again:

GO: test a
STAY: test b

april morning.

need coffee badly for a system who thinks it 4 am...

the electronic voice coming from the electronic device tells me it is april 29th.
sadly in need of more time here with you, for today, I will leave you with this:

"you have no birthday because you have always lived;
you were never born and never you will die.
you are not the child of the peopple you call mother and father,
but their fellow adventurer on a bright journey to understand the things that you are"
-Richard Bach

Greetings. Back on two feet, I shall remain this way for an as now foreseeable future.

for now, learn to Dream.
Dreams are not what other people get.
Dreams are not unreachable figments.
They are the here and the now, as real as real.
As great as God above, Dreams let you live no matter the circumstance.
Dreams define you.
Let your wildest of wildest ones carry you to places you do not yet understand.
Let the wings of your life carry you. Grab the mountains, rivers and rick rock them
and don't try to ignore them. Let your love be and know itself. The ride may be wild
but as long as you are holding the reigns of your life the results will be true.

and that's a promise.

april 18 1997

greetings.

perhaps the test didn't work who knows
am i coming or going who knows
i guess i'm going now i know
is everything packed who knows
worst at worst i'll find out when i get there
and what shall pass while i'm away?
nice things for you i hope
and for me who knows
and when i return who knows
will things change much
argh argh argh argh pms and travel yuck

boil that dust speck boil that dust speck...

and while i'm gone
Ramona will watch over this place
and all things sheepish-
keep it safe and keep me sound
goodbye ramona my lullabye
peace to you and all who must fly...

April 17, 1997........

people think they don't like things.

they just can't see the thing.

GO: test a
STAY: test b
NEUTRAL: test c

take off the blinders. i'm getting stuff from a fourteenyear old with more
insight than some of the adults i work with. "i don't like jazz", or "i don't
like fish" or "chinese people are like this"...enough is enough already. IT
IS NOT ABOUT MAKING JUDGEMENTS, PEOPLE. you can't not like jazz,
it's just because you don't hear it right. you won't let yourself hear it any
differently than you do. you are unable to change your perception. you
don't not like fish. you just cannot erase the memory of the first time you
tasted it, and didn't like it. you don't dislike chinese people...you are simply
unable to see them as equal to you. you will not accept what is different.
LOOK at yourself. You are different.

bizarre train dream. hadn't been remembering dreams until the mystic
detective started bringing it up. on a train bound for somewhere, and
i was standing and the train started to tilt as it went around a bend,
and was moving very fast. it became like a midway ride and i was
scared, very scared. later on we drove a long way in a broken car
our elbows barely inside. arrived at my parents house to tell the
story of our adventure, which i forget most of at the moment.
OH! then there were the tadpoles, one a foot long, hopping
around someone's front yard. I thought they needed water
in order to lose their tails but the water didn't help.
then when they started hopping around, poof! their tails
disappeared and they were bona fide frogs.
albeit much less huge than one foot long.
lots of traveling. hm.

7:37not an airplane just the time...

april 16 1997

and counting:
the reality is, i meet people here that i would not otherwise meet.
that is a joy to me and a pleasure. (polite *bow*)

not completely grounded, at least the balls of my feet are on solid turf.
the requirements for decision making are in place, and the landslide down
to reality is just that. either decision involves courage at this point.
and i don't mean from me. all i can do is say yes. 7:59.
there are so many truths that we must actually live to understand.
this is one of the hardest truths i face. can't i simply know things?
i wasn't taught not to know things. i wasn't taught to fall face down
and i didn't. it was always obvious.

some of my million things are done my head is pretty blank as i sit and
stare at the sandy page that is april. some of the emotions seep out in
tear form as i derive strength from my writing here. i write. that is what
i do. what i enjoy doing. definition of any type is good for me now.
must call the bank. more stuff going on. more go. more go. more go.

april 15 1997

train the thoughts to go towards the positive.

barely back on track, i must again prepare to leave. argh.
clothing can be a nuisance. and it's bad enough that it
clutters the floor.

a blessing from the Buddhist
a million calls a night
a list of things to do before
i take another flight

tuesday already and time thoughts fill my silly head.
not really rushing
not really planning
just kind of bouncing,
spending alot of time thinking.
promises which i made not to be fulfilled and i hope the
disappointment will not be too great. looking at life from
up and down and all around and wondering if there is in
fact any feeling at all which i am trying to get, or are there
others which i know nothing of? those are the ones i am
truly interested in. a few of which i have had lately but am
still waiting for them to bring a kind of security. a long term
goal perhaps.
perhaps.

how do i decide what will be writ here?
perhaps i use the same clarity
perhaps the words just sound right
perhaps "we are sure to judge wrong if we do not feel right"

april 14 1997

woke feeling extremely nostalgic, twice. first to the sounds of 'you don't bring me flowers' (5:26am) and then again to 'i will be right here waiting for you' (6:52am).
not wanting to trace the memories, i focused in on my breathing in an attempt to
return to sleep. even still, they really are mostly feelings. trying to identify the
tangibles in that vast space of memories is actually becoming difficult. which
place and time do i want back? they really are only emotions, but that's sad
enough in and of itself. i still can't really bring myself to try to feel what i felt
then. but i could if i wanted to. i stop at the realization that even if someone
offered to re-create the place, ... no one could re-create the time ...

and now i am thinking back to the days when helen and my mother
were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee as i got off the bus...
whether or not my french papers were in the bus or out, you
can be sure i got a ribbing. and that little sip of coffee i was
permitted...i can taste it now as i sip the one in front of me.
the warmth, the chocolate overtones, the filling of my senses...

i certainly didn't need the caffeine then.

and i am wondering now, as the train of thought bounces around and
stops on the red ball, is she disappointed ?

dreaming of driving around, looking for 'the crowd' everywhere i arrived they had left
they just refused to be where they were supposed to be...and the only one i could find
was sister barbara, a woman from my distant past, who was mildly curious what my
problem was but not too...that evasive crowd who just wouldn't let me find them...

later on a large ferris wheel with a beautiful woman. once the ride was nearly done,
i ask her what year it is. i knew i was at a world's fair but i didn't know the year. she
tells me 1995. i am shocked, i thought it was much earlier. we were in los angeles.

wondering who marion is...

not even feeling too prowd after choosing an iggy favorite. and i used to like favorites
so much. favorite songs, colors, boys, foods, lists upon lists, we spent hours talking
about our favorites. favorites were important then...now i only feel sort of guilty.

trying to look out instead of in all the time, even though others find looking out a tad
useless i think. no mysteries to solve. yet out today is white and out today, somewhere,
someone has passed away. learn to face out even when in is afraid, excited. it helps
more then. keeping joy within doesn't free it for sharing. keeping fear inside only lets
it rot and become something you later don't even recognize. stress angst whatever
shape it takes, it is not something that should circle in your brain.

April 12, 1997

sugar /  the scariest signature i ever saw  /  bowling

april 11 1997

the shoulders are down, the timer has started, and calm has again surrounded me.
everything seems quite clear today, and upon waking, she felt actual excitement.
day by day, yes isn't this unusual. P was very busy yesterday and i didn't even mind.
to spend so much time in one place, how could anyone possible accept it as work?
this is not work, this is life. these are the people i must connect with, the people who
must accept me, the job i must enjoy. they must pretend to strangle me when i tell
them i may leave. they must come rushing to my office upon my return, to get all the details. i must not want to leave them. and i don't but at least i have them to leave.

april 10 1997

with a bit more clarity, i can function in a semi normal way today. most of the caffeine
has not quite hit the receptors, but that will come. flashing thoughts of Lucy and Harrison, of Len, Laurel, those waves, the airports, good ole' sepulveda boulevard,
and then remembering what the -5 felt like as we walked into the parking lot...

still there are other things going on. well yes, in my brain, as she says.

i am learning a great deal about things i thought i knew. the adult brain is catching
up in a very real way, and relative to some very real issues. K's story has moved me
beyond words, really. to have 'second' chances at what we thought our perception
of life meant. to live through the breaks and watch the sun rises together. to share
things from deep inside us, as the insides become the outsides...that is what counts.
not the stoic analysis without real change. not the well-meant appraisals from year to year. not the promises that come from deaf mouths, nor the relentless desire to be someone or something we are not.

until it burns to show your face,
until your gut churns when you awake,
until a fear that drives you won't go away
you gotta live, another day

april 9th

lines drawn in the sand...

zoomazoomazoomzoomzoom.
up in a big airoplane.
surrounded by a bunch of unliterates is he.
wishing i could bring you with me
but those technicalities haven't been worked out yet.
EVERYONE WANTS DETAILS but if i give you details i lose the MEP.
if i give details the feeling is gone and i can't get it back right away,
"cause i bin UP, DOWN ,
tryin' to get the feelin' again,
all around, tryin' to get the feelin' again
the one that made me shiver
made my heart
start to quiver"

somethin' like that...

today i told someone that life lasts a long time.
Ok OK so i lied. i told them tomorrow i'd probably change my mind...

"it's a free ride, when you're already late
the good advice, that you just didn't take"
-A.Morrisette

we went to santa monica

and on the ninth they all said he looked very rested.

"how you doin?"
"i'm completely fuckin' brain dead."
"you look great"
"thank you."

"old ladies were looking at me at work today. what a laugh."

five days and five lines.
i'll write when i am away
he bangs around
we just don't know what to do with it.
ignoring things for a time
then back to reality...
wish i had the energy to SCREAM
knowing that i don't.

BANG BANG BANG go the dishes and the wok and the wooden spoons sitting in the sink. what's her name A, a, alanis screams from the front room

TRUE psychosis pervades the place and off we go...
not knowing what i will tell when we return.
not knowing how tired i will be in the morning...
hoping sleep will come and hoping tomorrow too......

april 3, 1997

i definately have a bizarre communication problem. not that i'm not a good
communicator, but it seems that i often mistakenly assume that the person
or people i communicate to have some innate connection to my thoughts
making it unneccasary for me to explain the details behind what i am saying.
but if i had to explain the logic behind the statement, wouldn't bother with
the statement itself. can't think of an example right at the moment.

this leads in nicely to the following. did you know that if you don't say it,
they won't know? people can't actually read your thoughts. if i really like
someone, i can go on liking them for a million years but if i don't tell them
then it is likely they'll never know. i'm actually only learning this in a very
real way, now. maybe it's that the feelings i have are so strong and since
i'm quite (ahah!) used to be a very demonstrative person, i always assumed
that the way i felt was quite obvious. but it would seem that my adult self's
thoughts in my head and feelings in my heart do not match 100% my
actions or words. what a concept. this means that sometimes, i must, and
i mean it, i am forced at times to speak words which are difficult, sounds
bizarre to me, and mean something which i would never otherwise display.
there are so many people around me who i can think of right now, who
in all likelyhood have no clue how i feel about them. i'm thinking of t,b,a,p...
you know what it is? i think that by saying 'thank you' or 'i really appreciate
it we assume that they know. when in reality, 'thank you' is merely in
response to an action which could have been performed by anyone.

in essence, it's taken me roughly 10 years for my adult mind to begin catching
up to my childhood behavior. for many of those ten years, i hated this idea.
now, i am beginning to be fascinated by it. it's allowing me freedoms i never
thought i would have. a sense of maturity which is written on the walls of my
brain. a set of behaviors which i can watch develop, control, learn about and
use beneficially. what a riot. who the heck ever thought i'd get somewhere like
here...

the stress is somewhat alleviated now, the mere act of writing and saying it
enough to calm the nerves. 'A' was a big help, i wish i knew how to let him know
exactly how i feel...maybe that's another reason we don't bother, that words
just are not enough or the exact ones do not exist. he didn't even know what
i was talking about but he said just the right things ... i wish everyone had an A
in their life...

becoming much too self-absorbed in this place where mothers have lost their
children and are suffering...forgive me,

april 2, 1997

greetings. the cars needed oil last night. i feel like i need oiling too.
under the comet tail we oiled the cars and stood around.
the stress of what is happening seeps out of me like stepping on moss.
i'm not even noticing it, but these headaches which appear in the early
afternoon are most definately stress-related, even though i do not feel
stressed. what a funny thing to happen. how bizarre not to have control.
i guess everyone is a control freak to a certain extent...like, it's nice to
have control over your own body. maybe some don't though.

so this place would be useful then, if we left. i'm not sure. i didn't mean
for it to be a tool. talking about loving but feeling insecure. words come
out regardless, that's nice to know. argh. needing a haricut badly.
what's going thru my head? what is going thru my head? thoughts
crashing into one another, that's what. no wonder i've got a bleedin'
headache. very little direction at this point in time. little focus...or focus,
but a type of focus i'm not used to. neither of us. focusing on something
we really know little about. i think that's where the stress comes from.
i don't like this mood in this place.

april 1, 1997

i imagine any day could be april fools, in cyberspace.
i will say however that none of what i write here is fiction.

stiff neck sleeping too soundly dreaming of two women
sitting at my mother's kitchen table, watching me peel the
chicken meat off the bones in the soup pot. i am telling
them a detailed story (moi?) and had just got to the part
about D, when i realized i hadn't offered them anything.
there was a large water glass in the cupboard that does
not actually exist, and as i was filling it my mother walked
in. i reached into the cupboard for a second glass, filled it
too and placed it on the table for the second woman.
i barely made it back to the soup before i awoke.

what was i telling them? who were they? why did i sleep
so deeply that i woke with a stiff neck? well the dreaming
did me good.

"as soon as forever is through, i'll be over you"

feeling grounded today. stiff, and grounded.
WHITE RABBITS

the sections are as follows: 1) people 2) thoughts-poetry
3) plans ideas notes 4) songs 5) dreams. "notes to myself".
these are the things i write of. it's only paper, but it's writ,
so it's real. "9:17 pm on a muggy, windy, pink-skyed august
21 1995. i've begun half way down the page because propped
up on my elbows, this was as far as i could reach. i had a
slight dilemma choosing a pen - went against my intuition
and shouldn't have. black is so un-literary. inspired by
(city)west, the heat and wind, crickets and faint voices
side my window, i sit to begin this monstrosity of a collage -
which, judging by the length of time it took me to not finish
my other 'notes to myselfs' and also factoring in my rate
of slowing down writing in general, this thing should last
not only the rest of my life but my descendants too!"

so much for that, the thing's nearly full.

being the early of the month allowing myself to babble here.
countdown: (people in these here parts seem to love countdowns)
including today, and not including blast off day, 3 DAYS.
then what?