Monday, May 31, 2010



"I learned to be honest
the way I learned to swim
dropped into the inevitable
my father's thumbs in my hairless armpits
about to give way
I am trying
to surface carefully
remembering
the water's shadow-legged musk
cannons of salt exploding
my nostrils' rage
and for years
my powerful breast stroke
was a declaration of war. "

Image by Brian (Inner Light Photography)
Poem by Audrey Lorde ~ "A Question of Climate"
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Despite my head being in my ass all day, it's been a good day. I've watched three movies (lost in translation, forrest gump, and curious case of benjamin button), had two home cooked meals, read a terrible article about some man doing mushrooms and ripping out his friends heart while he was still alive because he was trying to silence the devil (?WTF!), finally hiked to the Griffith Observatory for the first time and laid there for an hour and a half just taking it all in -- it's been a good day. (that article had nothing to do with it - just a random sidenote)

A year ago today, Cris and I were driving back to Seattle from being at Sasquatch all memorial day weekend. We left after Erykah Badu - Cris drove the majority of the way while I slept. I remember we pulled over at a gas station and slept in the car for a couple of hours before our 6 am flight back to LA. Our flight got in a little late but somehow I still made it in to work that day - no shower, smelly, and tired as fuck. I remember the drive from Seattle to the Gorge was absolutely beautiful. I remember the biker on the side of the road that kept up with us for miles because of the traffic - the snow off in the distance- the trees - the water coming out from the cracks in the huge rocks that bordered the freeway.

The day before I went to Sasquatch I found out my Nana was bleeding from the brain from an accidental fall and would have to have brain surgery - she was 96. She died June 7th. -- The same exact time that all of this was going on with my Nana, I found out that one of my closest friends had a snowboarding accident in Canada and was recovering from the same injury (bleeding in the brain) as my Nana. She, my age, lived. It's a little weird being at the one year anniversary of all this. Feeling very disconnected - a little numb - weary of my emotions in the days to come.

I think if I walked around with the same openness that I display in this blog I'd have more random encounters. I am much more open here than I am out in the real world. When I was much younger I seemed to just attract randomness. Hitchhikers often found their way into my car - bums would come sit at my table outside Riverside coffee shops - just weird shit, all the time. Adulthood has jaded me I think - I very much believe it is a causative relationship. I am much more controlling of the encounters I have these days. In the near future I would like to make the effort to meet someone new everyday - maybe when I return from my vaycay in the woods I'll make a project out of it - Not now though, I'm feeling very closed up and focused. When I was younger I used to think I'd end up like that old lady on great expectations (the movie - I was fascinated by her + I loved that movie). I still kind of think that way....Either that, or I'll end up in some naked commune with no kids and 3 husbands. One can hope.

I am going on a very long hike tomorrow to hot springs that are off in the desert. I have had a lot of wine tonight and must retire to my bed. I leave you with... a picture of my wonderful Nana from Christmas of 2006. Really glad I had the notion to grow out my eyebrows. .... Eyebrows - they are your friends, ladies.


Nana - I miss you I love you I miss you.


A picture from this time, 5 years ago(!) I flew in one of my best friends for her birthday because we haven't spent qt time together in almost 2 years. Here is a picture from when we went to the same hot springs for her 22nd birthday - now 27, we revisit the springs, just the two of us.

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Image taken by me.

1 comment:

  1. I remember when you received that call and feeling so bad for you when you were hurting.

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