Archive for March, 2004

i try to say i love you, but the words get in the way

March 30, 2004

i’ve been meaning to write something here for a few days, but the things I want to write about seem too large to try to break apart piece by piece on this page. be warned: i’m feeling a little cranky the last two days. Maybe a summary would work:

1) i had to go to the hospital last week. my first visit to one since my mother died and it was a totally overwhelming experience. with one whiff of the decay-laden air, i was transformed back into the renee zellweger/anna quinlan character from ‘one true thing’ and remembered a watercolor i did for my mother when she was dying the first time. it was of the earth from space, seen in context with the galaxy and i wrote a line from tears for fears’ ‘break it down again’ at the top: “They never mention all the beauty in decay.” oh, the teen years! the nurses didn’t want me to put that up in her room, but i did anyway. i can be so cold sometimes. being in the hospital made me painfully aware of the grief that is behind this wall. it’s like being on the dry side of dam and seeing the little crack start to form, knowing the velocity and weight of it will simultaneously crush me and sweep me away to some other place emotionally. ugh. the last time i saw my mother, she was crazy. she didn’t know who i was, but kept talking about the truck that was coming to get her. it came to get her that night while i was watching a play with my then-boyfriend. double-ugh. i have to go back tomorrow for more tests.

2) people are acting weird lately, and I am both attracted and repelled by them. one person said, ‘i have something funny to tell you.’ his idea of funny is not my idea of funny, let’s just say that. freaking HiLAReeeeous. it was something about someone seeing something i did and how someone wanted to cite me, or possibly fine me for it. so not funny, to me at least. nothing will come of my minor infraction, it was an honest to goodness accident, but for someone to call me out and say that they think it’s funny, well it makes me question my judgement of the people in my life just a wee bit. i think it’s ‘funny’ that i actually went out of my way to purchase items to construct a care package for this person this week because they’re under a lot of stress at work. questionable, questionable. or am i just too sensitive?

3) Is there a way to give to others that also replenishes your inner reserves. when i was a practicing bodyworker, if i gave a massage the correct way, with impeccable body mechanics, I felt as rejuevenated as my client. i am looking for a way to give to the world around me and my rolodex without feeling drained and cranky. any advice? or as bk would say, “what do you suggest?”

4) do you ever have a list of 12 people to call back and then the people call you back before you can call them back to make sure you’re ok because you haven’t called them back and you then have double the pressure to talk at a time when you have nothing really of merit to say? I think I’m on overwhelm.

5) I once had a friend named J. Moody. She was a mother of several young children, came from money, and was both over- and underwhelmed by her life. She pulled me aside one day in her kitchen and said, “you’re like my family. you’re like my brother. can we be honorary brother and sister? if you ever need anything, i’ll always be here for you” later: “can i throw you a birthday party?” RL would come to town from London and we’d play guitar and sing to her in her study. Then she had a little nervous breakdown, called me from a train bound for a facility in Arizona. She wrote me exactly one letter. I never heard from her again even though she came back to town a year later. That was 1995. I sometimes think about her and how the most generous, well-intentioned people can break in two suddenly.

entries like this always sound more depressed than i really am. i’m not really depressed all that much. i promise! it is just the random contents of my mind, like link and random coins from other countries in the bottom of your change purse.

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the king of bring by malcolm middleton of arab strap

March 26, 2004

I’m halfway between useless and potential.
I’m all the way travelled from hope.
There’s no one leading me down this road.
All the wrong turns have been my own.

Did you know that I’m telepathetic?
When I walk in the room, I know.
All eyes turn towards me,
everyone wants me to go.

I’m only happy when I’m sad
and my good times are all bad.
And my best years have all left me
along with you.

When I’m up,
I’m still down,
and my smile is my frown.
I’m a clown,
I’m still falling away
from you.

My hallway is fraught with dangers,
it’s peopled by memories and ghosts.
An apparition sits on my laundry,
laughing and eating my toast.

I don’t lock the door at night anymore,
I’ve no one to keep safe.
Pancakes gone, kissing gone,
along with the smile on my face.

I’m only happy when I’m sad
and my good times are all bad.
And my best years have all left me
along with you.

When I’m up,
I’m still down,
and my smile is my frown.
I’m a clown,
I’m still falling away from you.

I regret all my regrets.
I forget I forget.
I forget all my regrets.
I regret all I forget.

I’m just like a bad actor falling,
falling in love with you.
You know I’d do anything for you,
what do you want me to do?

I’ve burnt all my bridges and I’m stranded,
I’m joking on my own.
I’m wider than the Atlantic,
the distance between us grows.

I’m only happy when I’m sad
and my good times are all bad.
And my best years have all left me a
long with you.

When I’m up,
I’m still down,
and my smile is my frown.
I’m a clown, I’m still falling
away from you.

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and new york city won’t make you a better man if you can’t find it where you stand

March 26, 2004

finalized my new york trip plans, and i am happy to be making good on my new year’s pledge to travel more spontaneously, more frequently, and not feel exhausted by moving my body and belongings through time and space. travel can be fun — i think i remember that — and so now the only big question is whether or not to hassle with bringing my guitar. i can’t imagine being away from it for an entire week, yet, i also think it might be good to take a break from the dailiness of practice, writing, playing. maybe it would let me metabolize what i’ve learned and allow new songs to come through…. so i’m leaning towards not taking it. maybe i’ll put it out the universe that i’d like to have a guitar available for my use while i’m there.

i can’t believe Joey is leaving New York. i can’t believe julia and emma will be around for a visit. i haven’t seen them in five years…since i moved to atlanta. i can’t believe jt may make the trip up and that glen will be able to cart me around. margaret graciously offered me her bed. heidi went to columbia, and that’s the neighborhood i’ll be hanging in, so she’s whipping up a heidi tour for me. my friends rock.

i’ve been in such a place of simple gratitude for my life lately. it’s like a homecoming. i feel more like myself in years.

saw the most amazing performance last night at The Fabulous Fox Theatre: Shed Your Skin, a ballet/music performance by Indigo Girls and The Atlanta Ballet. It was stunningly awesome. I can’t even describe it, but if you like dance, and you like the Indigo Girls at all, run to see this show. I had a sappy moment where literally a lone tear streamed quite dramatically down my face. I haven’t had a visceral reaction to a piece of art like that since 2000 when I first saw Glen’s painting that I named ‘the cure.’

Grab the nearest phone while seats are still to be had. Seriously. These times are strange and unsettling, and the best antidote – without a doubt the hottest ticket in town – is “Shed Your Skin,” a sizzling defiant dose of hard-driving attitude gorgeously vocalized by the Indigo Girls and interpreted in a fresh, hip, no-holds-barred dance by the Atlanta Ballet… …What a brilliant idea by Artistic Director John McFall, to put the Indigo Girls and their backup band live and onstage with his company of energetic, individually expressive dancers.” – Julia Bookman, The Atlanta Journal Constitution, on The Indigo Girls Project

tonight is my first cocktail party at my place for my friends Tony & Marty (New Orleans) and my best friend’s parents (Outer Banks, NC) who are all coming to Atlanta for the weekend. Small, intimate gathering…and my first real run with my candelas on the balcony. ;-)

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Dia a Dia

March 24, 2004

Lori’s such an amazing writer…..

Day after day
There is a line running through
Years and miles of rain
Tar and concrete, the changing moon

When it’s over there is just the end
And no other choice but start again
I let the rain pour through the pain
Until you have washed away

Day after
Day after
Day after day
After day after

Day after day
Everything’s a little strange
Even what remains
Is buried in the many changes

On this very street we counted stars
Now rows of restaurant windows
Shiny bars
Line the avenue lost to me
Like you, gone away

Day after
Day after
Day after day
After day after
Day after day

Wake up in the afternoon
Sun shines in the window
On a natural resistance
To the future in the distance
Coming

Day after day
Time means nothing to the trees and sky
Life goes on in a way
Slowly rearranging
Slipping by
What you get may not be what you sought
What you find out different than you thought
I’d let the wind carry me
If I could be that way

Day after
Day after
Day after day
After day after
Day after day…..

© 1990, Lori Carson.

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nothing works like they said it would and nothing feels as good as they advertised it would

March 22, 2004

i ordered lisa cerbone‘s entire back catalogue last week and it arrived today. and i thought, these are the simple pleasures in life; increasingly, they are ones that i do not take for granted. to wade thigh deep through an artist’s body of work and to be able to do so and to savor each moment of it — that’s a gift.

i think when i dream, i dream of that.

when i was young, i meted out my allowance amongst whatever music was capturing my attention. as an adult — and as an artist myself — it has to be one of life’s greatest things to be able to find what you’re looking for. perhaps that’s why shopping is such a cultural pastime. in a generation that is searching for so much, trying to get the things that we suspect might make us happy, it is indeed rewarding to crave something, know what is, and then acquire it.

relationships get messy, careers don’t fulfill us, our own desires turn on us, our lives morph into something we did not choose wholesale. perhaps this is why our generation is one marked by consumerism.

i love going to the drugstore to buy deodorant and toothpaste and stuff like that because i know these items will generally make good on their promises. what could be more comforting than buying a case of advil, knowing that in these mostly uncertain times, it will indeed, most likely, completely eradicate your headache?

when i was about 10 years old, i used to lie in bed at night and dream of being an entertainment journalist. not just the work, but all that i thought it would entail. then, one day much later, i saw my reflection in a pane of glass an an airport as i waited to fly off to a hotspot locale to interview a hotshot movie star for a few publications. i realized my dream had come true, actually over and over again, but it never felt the way i thought it would feel in my childhood fantasies. i’m not sad about this. i completely believe in life, but i think our culture misleads us.

>> From Salon today: I ran into Patty the day her ninth book became her first to hit the Times bestseller list. She grabbed me by the shoulders, looked deep into my eyes. “It doesn’t change anything,” she said grimly. “My mother still doesn’t approve of me. I still don’t have a boyfriend. I still can’t sleep at night. Don’t let this be what you’re waiting for.”

And yet I wait for my agent’s call, telling me there’s another chance that it could happen for me. <<

and so i find comfort in deodarant, in shopping malls, in woody allen, in putting pen to paper, in picking up the guitar, in being with friends, in purchasing a cd i’ve always wanted, in browsing a bookstore, taking a walk in the park, or a long shower.

they are the little pleasures i can count on, the little things that make up my life. and more and more, i know i wouldn’t have it be otherwise.

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Sometimes I think Meg Ryan is my biggest teacher

March 19, 2004

the more i talk to other bloggers, the more i realize that we all have our boundaries about what will be posted and what will not be posted. it seems we’ve all taken down a post or two when we realized that we may have inadvertently crossed that line.

certain people said they haven’t read or won’t read my blog because of what they might read about themselves here. that just strikes me as odd. ever since i wrote a scathing letter attacking Meg Ryan for her views on relationships that was published in US Weekly, i have realized there are just some things you don’t want to have attached to your good name. In that letter, for instance, I realized that all the things I took Meg to task over were actually pretty good reflections of my own views about long term relationships. At that point in my evolution, I couldn’t even recognize those beliefs in me…i couldn’t believe i had that much ambivalence and bitterness coursing through my lover-ly veins. But there they were. Only when I saw my words in black and white at a Publix check out line did I see them in myself, too. In that way, I think that saying something bad about someone only shows us what we have refused to accept in ourselves. We all have a killer and a saint in us. To be whole, we have to embrace those opposites. As ani difranco sings, “I’ll find out what you’re made of by what you make of me.” It’s true. Meg Ryan helped me see that. Thank you, Meg.

So, when you check this blog, dear reader, here are some things you probably won’t ever see: specific details about anybody I’m spending time with, attacks on specific individuals (love, not war! not even antibiotics!), gossip, perfect grammar or spelling, political activism….

I’ll never tell you to get away from me.

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When you need a tear in your beer, call Lukie

March 18, 2004

A lot of you have written or called to ask what time I would be performing Saturday. I’ll be playing an all acoustic set at a benefit for Atlanta’s gay rugby team at Angel in picturesque, lesbian-laden Decatur. I’ll go on at 3:00 p.m. until 3:45 p.m. and then again at 5 p.m. until 5:30 p.m. Once again, it’s $10 all you can drink beer (very straight, huh! a keg!) to help the Ruggers go to play in the international gay rugby tournament in London. Angel is a cool restaurant/bar with a great patio. Come hang out for a while!

By the way, if you haven’t been to Decatur for a while, you may be surprised to realize this is a hair gel-free zone. People are so relaxed and easy going there. Dare I say, stylishly au natural. My and my boys went there last weekend for brunch and it was such a great vibe I wanted to pack up and move down there. Quite a WONDERFULLY different scene than the sunglasses worn inside, totally tanned and tight-shirted scene that enfuses my little Midtown neighborhood. My body just relaxed once I realized that. Being in Midtown is like being on the Academy Awards 24/7. When you get up from the table to go potty at a restaurant, this is the gay version of that 15-second walk of fame to claim your big shiny statue. You must make sure you have excellent posture and pretend not to notice anyone. Surely all that tanning and denying of bodily needs will pay off and this is your big moment. Work it baby! Anyway, if you’re a big old gay boi, Decatur can be a thought of as a little vacation from the pressures of being beautiful. Somebody there might actually like you for your personality there, so brush up on your conversation skills. K.

Ok, who knew I had that little homophobic rant in me?

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i’m stained all through my insides

March 18, 2004

here comes the end of march
i’m failing all the time
my love carved his name in me
carefully but full of might

see my head spinning
as surely as the planets
justify, why should I,
he’d never come to stand it

what is this?
this foreign breath i’m lying with…
thieves are never sweet

only the end, it’s only the end
it’s only the end i’m dying through
only the end, only the end
give me trust and faith and all the things i had

i’d trade my blessings
for a way to open up
a toss up of meaning and
hello, care to make love

give me punishment
say i’m a normal boy
some would say – “you just need to get through”
“you’ve got everything to learn”

what is this?
these hands that hold me differently….
thieves are never sweet

only the end, it’s only the end
it’s only the end i’m dying through
only the end, only the end
give me trust and faith and all the things i had

i kissed a marionette that didn’t move
stronger every day without you
reached for my crown and it wasn’t there
i got a fat sticky mess and i’m feeling pretty bare

that’s what I feel…
“What is this?” and “it’s all mine”
now
i’m stained all through my insides….

©1998 Emm Gryner (SOCAN/ASCAP). All rights reserved.

I could weep every time i see this amazing CD in a used bin.

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Try

March 18, 2004

This could be my favorite thing ever. I want to save it, print it out and frame it. Let’s all join our beloved Margaret Cho in ‘trying.’ I’ve always been a casual MC fan. I watch her movies, I asked for her book for my 28th birthday. I enjoyed her guest spot on Sex and The City. But because of her blog, one of my favorite things about the Internet, I now can appreciate her for the wonderfully talented and immense person that she is. I’m not a political person at all, have little interest in most current events, but her writing about such matters totally pulls me in. It may not call me to action — sorry Brad! — but it puts my focus between my ears, which is where all the WMD’s begin anyway.

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too blessed to be stressed (can i get an ‘amen’?)

March 17, 2004

So, historically, lunch has been my ‘trouble’ meal. The meal that can derail the entire day’s caloric, carb and fat intake, making it ok to slide into an over-the-top dinner with cocktails and dessert.

Not anymore, my friend. Not since Jason’s (beloved) Deli came to Cumberland Mall. Now I can have a soup and salad every day should I choose to do so — and I often do!

One of my favorite things about eating at Jason’s is that afterwards, me and my homies take a little walk through the very tragic Cumberland Mall. Once a magnificent retail mecca, it now has the outdated, lifeless sheen of a 70s sitcom rerun without the nostalgia factor.

But there is this one store that I love passing by called Heel Quick. Now, Heel Quick is a fine and versatile retail establishment. In addition to fixing your busted footwear, you can also browse their many inspirational and entertaining garments. My favorite stares out to me each time I see it from the window. We make a little eye contact. We flirt. But I never buy her. Yet she inspires me more than one could imagine. She’s a little “Daily Word” placard on cheap cotton, and I love her. Her message is a humble one: Too blessed To Be Stressed.

I really couldn’t agree more!

When you think of all the wonderful things we have in our lives, even at our most foul moments of human pain and suffering, I’d bet most of you would agree: In the big picture, no matter what is going on, most of us are ‘too blessed to be stressed.’

So today, as we move through our lives’ more mundane moments and choices, our dentist or hair appointments, our green martinis (happy st. patty’s day!), our middleclass caffeine and white sugar addictions, and the last of the girlscout cookies, remember that life is just flowing through you.

And as Harriet, the Greyhound Bus Station lady in New Orleans, used to tell me every Tuesday: It’s all good, babydoll.

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wasting away again (with new friends) in margaritaville (and bad discount stores)

March 16, 2004

This really happened and lemme tell ya, hayden’s a great writer, but I don’t think anyone could totally capture the sheer hilarity of those 10 minutes at that godawful store. I literally had to pop advil for the next few days because I pulled a muscle in my side from laughting. I thought I broke a rib. Of course we were already drunk on margaritas by then, and it was only 1:15 p.m. You should buy his book! Hella fun!! You should also send him fanmail to tell him to move to Hotlanta.

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If you feel too free and you need something to remind you, there’s this loneliness springing up from your life like a fountain from a pool

March 16, 2004

Looking through some photographs I found inside a drawer
I was taken by a photograph of you
There were one or two I know that you would have liked a little more
But they didn’t show your spirit quite as true

You were turning ’round to see who was behind you
And I took your childish laughter by surprise
And at the moment that my camera happened to find you
There was just a trace of sorrow in your eyes

Now the things that I remember seem so distant and so small
Though it hasn’t really been that long a time
What I was seeing wasn’t what was happening at all
Although for a while, our path did seem to climb

But when you see through love’s illusions, there lies the danger
And your perfect lover just looks like a perfect fool
So you go running off in search of a perfect stranger
While the loneliness seems to spring from your life
Like a fountain from a pool

Fountain of sorrow, fountain of light
You’ve known that hollow sound of your own steps in flight
You’ve had to hide sometimes, but now you’re all right
And it’s good to see your smiling face tonight

Now for you and me it may not be that hard to reach our dreams
But that magic feeling never seems to last
And while the future’s there for anyone to change, still you know it seems
It would be easier sometimes to change the past

I’m just one or two years and a couple of changes behind you
In my lessons at love’s pain and heartache school
Where if you feel too free and you need something to remind you
There’s this loneliness springing up from your life
Like a fountain from a pool

Fountain of sorrow, fountain of light
You’ve known that hollow sound of your own steps in flight
You’ve had to hide sometimes but now you’re all right
And it’s good to see your smiling face tonight

Fountain of sorrow, fountain of light
You’ve known that hollow sound of your own steps in flight
You’ve had to struggle, you’ve had to fight
To keep understanding and compassion in sight
You could be laughing at me, you’ve got the right
But you go on smiling so clear and so bright

© 1972, jackson browne, new inductee into the R&R hall of fame — finally!

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i tend to fall asleep in the fast lane, in the fast lane

March 16, 2004

the past week has been a blur of furious activity and rapid changes. But the good news is: i have pots and pans again and i can actually cook at home. getting my tv and dvd player and cd jukebox into my space has suddenly made my house a home. i don’t know why that is, but, even though none of those items are plugged in, i find myself sitting on my little sofa more. i guess the ‘living room’ feels more like a destination now instead of a hallway to the bedroom. ;-) truly, it is the little things….

my therapist is coaching me to write a book about what it’s like being a gay adult child of alcoholics/addicts. i think it could be done, but i don’t know if i have the chops to do it. i remember going to a psychic 10 years ago and one of the things he told me was that i would one day write a book that would be very personal and appeal to small niche audience, but that it would be popular and creating that work would usher me into a whole new life. i didn’t remember that until K started pushing me to do it. maybe now is a time to think about structure as opposed to content. i have so many other arty projects going on, i feel a little stretched thin when it comes to all of that. still, it’s a topic that never ceases to amaze me, and never ceases to color every relationship and interaction in my life — if only i were exaggerating!

by the way, I’m playing a benefit for the gay rugby team at Angel in Decatur this Saturday. The admission is $10 but you get all the beer you can guzzle down and i’ll provide the tunes to supply you with the tear for the beer. ;-) It’s from 2:00 to 5:30, and I’ll be playing for an hour or so somewhere in all that time. These events are always and a great way to meet people that aren’t necessarily in any sort of scene. Very low key. Contact me if you need more information or have any questions!

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I know you’ve been wondering….

March 12, 2004

It’s the kind of question that can keep you up nights, and now you can have the answer! If only the rest of life were that simple.

Which of the Greek Gods are you ?

Aphrodite
Aphrodite/Eros

?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

leave your results in a comment ;-)

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oh god give me one more song so i can prove that i’m so much better than him

March 10, 2004

Did you see this?

got the best night of sleep i’ve had in a long time last night. i slept with my laptop next to me playing an endless loop of janis’ new song and turned on the visualizer. it was quite hypnotic. I worked late last night and when i got home around 8 i just turned on the candelas and hopped into bed and napped until 12:30 a.m., then chatted with M a bit, then turned back in until 8 a.m. I so needed it! I feel like a new man today.

my laptop is the new cellphone. what did i do without the laptop?? There is no way to comprehend not being able to pile in bed in your jammies and watch movies or listen to tunes or surf the web. I know that sounds bratty, but this boy is loving his gadgets.

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i know everyone’s just trying to be happy but…..

March 9, 2004

I really haven’t read any Marianne Williamson in a while, and only have 4 of her audio lectures in my car and only one talk she gave on my iPod. This is progress. Ten-twelve years ago, I practically began every sentence with “Marianne says…” So truly, to go months without dousing myself in the wisdom of Marianne Williamson and the freaking Course In Miracles daily is quite a change.

Of course, the further I get from it, I realize the principles have taken root in me and form a large part of the way I think. For the last four days I’ve been thinking about love and the people that come into our lives via the people we love. The people who just show up as part of someone else’s big fat drama and we have to put up with them. Say your ex starts dating someone new who used to be a friend of the both of you. Say two friends become close while squeezing out a third. It’s everyone’s right to be happy, and to pursue that according to our wonderful country’s constitution, but at what point is someone willing to put a cigarette to your soul, even so-called accidentally, or unconsciously, to get what they think they want out of life at that moment. I was thinking about all of this and a marianne-ism came to my mind..two of them, actually.

“sometimes the worst crimes, aren’t crimes.” sometimes the things that hurt you the most are so subtle there’s nothing to point to to say, ‘hey, don’t do that. that’s my soul you’re treading on.’ your friend gives you a backhanded compliment, someone shifts their weight slightly in a relationship and you can feel the difference and they say nothing’s changed. people who know they could give you information to ease your suffering and don’t just so they can feel in power and play some game you don’t have the rule book for. people who don’t honor your ‘no’ — you say no and they make the offer so sweet, you choose to participate in the internal conflict. man, those are the big ones that can erode your core, dude. or be your biggest teachers, shall you choose that path…ps: i’ll choose ‘biggest teachers’ for $1000, Alex. Alex: “It’s a daily double!” i digress…. :-)

and

when a woman, who used to be an friendly acquaintance of marianne’s started dating M’s ex quite soon after a breakup that she knew hurt marianne deeply, told her: “You know, Marianne. I never intended to hurt you.”

Marianne replied, “I know. But you also never intended to love me.”
I think that’s so powerful. Not that there are any rules of behavior and I’ve certainly felt righteous in hurting other people to get what I thought I wanted at the time. It’s just beautiful brain and heart food.

Intend to love someone today — someone who may be in your inadvertant path to your alleged happiness. It might help them stay sane one more day and, in the end, when you realize you probably didn’t even really want the thing you thought you wanted, you’ll be glad you kept your lit cigarette to yourself and just enjoyed your smoke.

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sole mates, they’re not just for your feet anymore

March 9, 2004

Chad Nielson: did you write this? :-) Nah, it was an answer that CT posted on Salon to a woman who wondered why the man she was in love with wasn’t in love with her.

You met your soul mate and then had to give him up. It’s painful to receive such knowledge, but that’s what happens: Soul mates bring knowledge of your being; they don’t often hang around to get married. Soul mates are messengers, bearers of brief ecstatic news; they arrive, change your world, and depart.

The soul mate is not the marriage mate. Indeed, the soul cannot be married; only the body can marry. You don’t live in your soul. You live in your refrigerator, in your car, on your bed, in your chair: You live in your body. Where your body brings you is where you stay. You couldn’t bear to live in your soul. You’d burn up. The searing intensity of pure knowledge of being — it would whiten your bones and leave you on the road, tumbling like the husk of an insect. So you meet your soul mate and he ignites who you are and you live in that flame for a few minutes at a time and that seems like an eternity. But neither of you could stand in that flame for long. Did you not know that? Did you think you could stand in the summer of his gaze without cracking?

Again, I’m sorry, and I’m sad for you, but I’m also rejoicing, as I wish you could as well. Because brief as it was, it ignited something in you that will keep burning. So here you are, lit up in a new now. That kind of gift does not disappear.

But you still need some practical guidance, don’t you? You’re still in the world of How do I find a man who will love me and be my husband? There is much to be said, but here is one thing germane to your situation: Beware of the ecstatic union that promises eternal bliss.

Why is it we find ourselves drawn to people who remain reserved and hidden and slightly elusive?

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I’ll love you with all the joy of living until the lights go out in new york city

March 8, 2004

this was fun! (but a little long, be warned….and WATCH your spelling closely…)

post your score in a comment.

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is it hard to hold up your shoulders when guilt hangs down your wrists

March 8, 2004

oh my. talk about a day maker. a new song/cd from janis. i’ve already listened a dozen times. ‘they talk’ is so self-assured and confident and relaxed it makes me want to go back and redo every song i’ve ever recorded….. i feel like all of our songwriting has gotten more brief and subtle since the workshop. we are showing more and telling less and are more gauzy and warm…..

i also stumbled across the liner notes lori wrote to accompany our songwriter’s cd coming out later this year. reading what lori wrote about each of us separately and collectively brought me back to those special days at the tip of New York.

lori is probably the only personal ‘hero’ that i’ve met who didn’t disappoint me in some way once I’d spent time with them. she’s a magnificent musician but also a gorgeous person, so real and kind. i have to pinch myself sometimes because it’s such a surreal thing to realize that the 22-year-old who fell in love with this moody singer’s debut cd while grifting through a used cd bin on decatur street in New Orleans is in any way affliated with her.

I remember bringing “Shelter” back to the room in which my then BF and I were staying and putting it on for us to listen to. I don’t think he appreciated the way I ignored him as I sprawled across the bed and devoured the lyrics and liner notes, while listening to each word. It was love at first listen. (Unfortunately, everytime I hear “Pretty Girls” by Lori, I always think how that was the last song PAS listened to together the night we broke up under the moonlight in his garden in Little Rock more than a year later. I remember because I so identified with the protagonist of that song and said so while we listened to the song in the car on the way home from dinner, and he started being a butthead and asking how i could identify so strongly with a girl protagonist. LORD!)

I didn’t even play guitar then, or even dream of being a musician…well, maybe I dreamt. ;-) but when i did start playing it was to learn a lori song. so to see the imprint of her in nearly every song I write and to have her say kind things about my music and be so supportive, it’s quite fufilling. If you haven’t discovered Lori’s music through the many movies and tv shows her songs have been lovingly featured in, do yourself a favor and go here. Spend a little time getting to know one of the finest songwriters of our times.

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words to live by?

March 8, 2004

“It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters in the end.”
–Ursula K. Le Guin

here are a few other words i’m living by lately: desperate, clutching, lonely, hiding, text messaging, brave fronts, conspicious consumerism, writing, avoiding, music, showers, balcony, candela, internal running, stanton, vodka, marta, clouds rolling by the window, old books, procrastination, anger, restlessness, sleepy, over-gadgeted, dining out, red bull, one foot in front of the other, overwhelm, circles.

can you believe i just read about martha stewart today? I had no idea. Let me add one more word: head in the sand. ;-) oh, and purgatory.

this song carries me….

Well I got myself a new day
and I got myself a second chance
So I headed to the train stop
And the sun, the sun was warm on my back

Today I ran for miles, just to see what I was made of
Today I ran for all that was mine

Well I got myself a song inside
and I got myself some full blown daylight
Wanna tell you just how hard it’s been
trying to talk myself out of jumping

Today I ran for miles, just to see what I was made of
Today I ran for all that was mine, just to see what I was made of

I feel like I have been running for two months to prove something to myself — just to see what i was made of. Can I stop now?

I also like to think of the definition of faith as described by The Course In Miracles:

In the darkest of night, act as if the morning has already come.

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