generic

i am heavy with sadness. the beasts i've been running from are close behind me, panting hard...it's all catching up after years of what feels like living as a deranged woman in an asylum, forgotten. like Camille Claudel . i don't know if you saw the film . i love the part when Camille discovers her over-bearing less-talented ego maniacal ex-lover Rodin no longer wants her. in her heavy skirts over long roads she stumbles to Rodin's home and with a guttural wail throws herself on his front stairs, like they said it'd be in hell, with weeping and gnashing teeth. WHOA- DAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!! WHOA-DAAAAAAAAAAAN!!! i can say this about moving, know why you're moving before you do it. now that it's over if i'd known what was coming i'd have done n-o-t-h-i-n-g. so, you figure it out. or plan what you can and let god figure out the rest. i need to ramble a bit today as I'm brewing up another head of steam and it usually goes like this then maybe i reach somet...

so tomorrow I'll be heading over to the geriatric home where I'll be {possibly} em-ceeing the evening Karaoke hour. that'll be interesting. and how did that happen you ask? well, I'm an avid eavesdropper with a keen imagination. as i wiled away time at the wholefood's cafe recently i chanced upon a gaggle of swimmers, women of various ages, whose one connection is that they religiously swim in the icy cold waters of Barton Springs 'pool'. it's no more a pool than I'm a midget but here I'm learning to let people call things what they want. for instance the street, "manor" is pronounced may-ner...and i wouldn't care except I'm the one trying to spell it out for google maps which i think is in cahoots with big oil as it keeps taking me on the most circuitous routes and i need to stop for gas every forty-five minutes. at any rate Barton Springs is as it's name suggests, a spring and an icy one. the first time i swam in it was ab...

i just wanted to say those words, lugubrious, having to do with a mournful heaviness and desperado, not so much a kamikaze but desperate, sad, lonely, apart. in other news i'm sitting at my other new favorite place, the public library with free wi-fi and lots and lots of homeless folks. i've taken to squatting in the children's section where i can plug in my laptop. here they have small upholstered chairs and ottomans...kid size and my arse fits quite nicely in one. atop the shelves are stuffed animals, bright, colorful, large and small, dragons, a unicorn, a big rubber ducky, an elephant in a birthday hat, a little red car, a green wagon...and above me hangs a larger-than-life book  backlit with red neon, open to the letter "A" with words in spanish next to related images: abuelo (grandpa), aguacate (avocado), armadillo (armadillo), arbol (tree), azul (blue), av'ion (plane).  and a homeless man just got rousted for sleeping.  seeing as it's been very cold...

 i lay awake last night after a long day of frightening grouchiness while Luella the cat nuzzled up to me and kept innocently digging her little sharp claws into my overly sensitive skin. to which i said, 'sister, i need you to be soft and fluffy, no claws." oh you have no idea what kind of grumpiness i refer to, preternatural, demonic and hissing. it was a gorgeous 81 degree day as i drove out to the dry brown hill country with low-slung contorted trees, shallow rocky ravines, a tiny stream here, there, down the road a piece and curving road and sun sun sun.   on my way back into the city i pushed the button to the lowered driver's side window that refused to go back up. i smushed and pressed and begged, pleading please window please. i tugged the window while trying to raise it with my hands. no no no. now dark and arriving home i remembered  the invite to share homemade chili and cornbread with a friend. ugh. i'm supposed to pick up the dvds which i did and then ...

teach us to care and not to care. teach us to sit still .-t.s.eliot/ash wednesday I've decided that it maybe best to let you know the truth about making large sweeping moves when you're close to middle age and creative and semi-always unfocused. it's tres dificile. I've applied, yes, applied for jobs as a host, waiter, floral designer, hotel desk attendant, hmm, what else? doesn't matter. what matters is the process which it is my intention to keep you abreast.  thankfully the one commitment i made to myself before leaving Chicago i am following through on, and that's a  yoga certification to teach. i had started about a year ago but due to my divorce, working full-time and taking improv classes i felt overwhelmed financially and time-wise. the classes were either every Saturday or Sunday, or sometime both for nine months and usually 4-6 hrs each time. and i wasn't sure if i was 'teacher' material as I've taken yoga classes on and off for the la...

so what does mediocrity have to do with wandering? lack of clarity. that's my experience.  sure, i can't control a car accident, that's why it's called an accident. but i could have better protected myself when i purchased this car which has become my big ass cry baby, so i either  love it or leave it. what i forgot to mention yesterday was my intention that no matter what my current living situation, this is my life and my experience. i can choke on it like sour grapes or i can gently massage it into a workable shape.  part of me regrets so many  hazy decisions I've made mostly related to living in Chicago. the pattern is one of dismissal, dismissing myself, my utter worthiness because i believe such awful things about myself. I'm not smart enough, I'm not pretty enough, i don't have enough money, I'm too old, I don't do headstands, I'm not a child  prodigy, i didn't graduate from college although god knows I've spend plenty of money...

OK, i've had the type of day that makes you want to douse yourself with gasoline and light a match but only after several hundred shots of bourbon. here's the list: 1) remember the car accident? turns out the woman who hit me had an expired insurance policy that naturally covers ...nothing, not my car (Kerry's) or her own car. hussy! and she didn't even get a ticket! 2) i had another blow out today, same side, dummy tire! what's the chance? oh yeah, the car i bought that was "so well taken care of"  has four, FOUR, bent wheels which means that the new FOUR tires i put on today will not wear as long or as well, and i still have to replace the wheels at 175 smackers each! seems like there's more but i'll spare you that to say this: i'm done with mediocrity, period. i am sick to death of accepting aluminum foil for gold. as i sat on the concrete picnic bench outside the 'discount tire' repair shop which is situated along the highway, ...

to start with Austin is dark unlike Chicago where everything shines like a glow worm. here i literally have to open my cellphone to see the car door key hole, yes because remember folks, my beast is from 1993, pre-key fob. the streets are dark, lack visible (i.e. useful) signage and the erratic drivers have me on pins and needles. I'm just trying to stay inside the yellow lines... and hello! I'm lost. but that's not the story for today. today's story boys and girls is about taking a very, very long walk. think groundhog day, the movie...so i set out around nine a.m. along a course parallel the twisting river. the path makes approximately a nine mile oddly-shaped circle which i don't intend to traverse today yet I'm eager to explore beyond the boundaries I'd set for myself in days past. It's going well, halfway through i see a little road that leads off to my favourite swimming hole which is exciting, now i know how to get there when my bike arrives later...

"everyone who blooms late in life, whether you're a writer or anything else because you never,  never know.-Julia Glass I've been asked, "why did you you move?"  why? did? i? move? good question. there are moments when i ask myself that question about nine hundred times a day, especially after i purchased my un-sexy Volvo wagon that immediately cost me 150+ to pass the Texas vehicle emissions test because not only did the car have dry-rotted belts, the horn doesn't work which is a portion of the safety test. makes sense. horn...blow...people can hear you when the brakes fail. the mechanic attempted to bribe me, asking for a 'tip'. "a tip, what're we talkin' about here?" he wanted five dollars. well god knows i tried to give it to him but as a he continued to work  it was somewhat difficult and ridiculous. i drove away feeling angry and empty. the following day i was given bad where-to-transfer-the-title information which led to my pa...

i could really benefit from a Quaalude or two about now, not that i take drugs, i usually drink them like everyone else. in the wholefoods 'cafe' the small fat dark haired woman with a red Christmas gift-printed turtle neck and mom jeans is squirting, endlessly, a topical cleaner on the massive table behind me. no doubt it's filthy but she's seventy-five sprays in...and she's wearing what appears to be a gauzy red ribbon bracelet adorned with hundreds of tiny multi-colored tinkling balls on one hand and a latex glove on the other. "spray it again sweetheart." i don't have the heart to tell her i think she missed a spot. i can see the attraction, if you attack the largest available surface regularly it can keep you occupied for...hours. In other news... the Salvation Army, it's everywhere here, the trucks, the effort, and the stores. A few days ago as i shopped for plates and cups I glanced up from an exorbitantly overpriced set of really ugly dis...

i have the strongest craving for my mom's "mile high" biscuits. they are as tall and light as the name suggests. More than once yesterday a golden high and delicately layered biscuit slathered with real butter and honey floated provocatively before my hungry eyes.  I'm not a big biscuit fan, OK that's a lie. i am a fan of really wrong-headed golden greasy biscuits from Popeye's which my intuition  whispers are doused with butter-flavoured animal fat and bleached white flour. to avoid valve congestion i enjoy one of those tasty treats about every seven years, just like swallowed gum, so the rumour goes, it takes seven biblical years to digest.  maybe it's the weather here, crisp and warm, the trees still with leaves turning gold and red, cool morning and evening. or maybe I'm a little home sick or maybe it's the oncoming holidays, the desire to cook , create, bake my loose unfocused feelings into something tangible. I'll let you know how it...

it takes time to realize some fundamental things have changed since i moved. like traveling i took very little and have moved from spot to spot figuring and reconfiguring where to lay my head, which furniture is likely to shelter a rogue cat and how much i actually want to unpack before i have to re-pack. the house I'm staying in has no wi-fi so I'm 'working' from wholefoods or Jo's coffee, my new favorite place.  I've noticed: (1) there's no full length mirror where i'm staying. you may think it's unimportant but it suggests i'm walking by faith not sight as i have no idea what i look like below the waist. and i don't spend half my day like a baby transfixed by a dangling musical mobile drooling on myself wondering if i'm physically acceptable. i just act in the world.   (2) I have a very limited wardrobe. again, it seems unimportant but having few choices forces me to be grateful and creative. i'm not sure why i own so many clothes ...

fifty minutes after my normal wake -up time of 7:22, the time Maddie has decided is long enough for me to sleep no matter the previous night's occasion, i awoke grumpy , stiff and in a murderous mood ready to kill the next cat who stepped out of line. (go on, make my day)  the night before in a peaceful frame of mind i leisurely dressed then relaxed on the bed watching a 'six feet under' DVD until the time was upon me to make my way to Vespaio were i would join my friend for dinner at the bar. As i drove along the frontage road in the right lane before my exit i noticed a car speeding off the ramp in my direction, three lanes away, two lanes away, one lane away, dangerously close and boom! without ceremony i had been whacked sideways and shot off the road where my loaner car stalled. shaking i restarted it and pulled over into the Chevron station parking lot all the while watching the perpetrator...would she stop? she did. we met in the lot where a series of phone calls beg...

so i'm at my favourite place, unlike Wal -mart, the YMCA.  why i like the Y: people at the Y, the patrons anyway, are usually gregarious talkers and interested humans who wear worn out swim suits, dirty shoes and make use of the complimentary Dial anti- perspirant . today i saw two aged women emerge from the showers, their large saggy crepe-laden nude bodies waddling towards the locker room where their daily routine unfolded. you can tell people with a routine, i know, i'm one of them. (i always take either the locker  furthest from the action or closest to the aisle and escaping, although with the aisle you're constantly swishing your bare-naked ass out of the way for passer-byers.) the grannies revealed their  preference not only for the aisle but the entire shared bench; sensing i was encroaching on their territory i made myself small and invisible while they dressed. they had matching short haircuts and black pants and t-shirts that read, "women in black" on ...

numb and thick tongued...how to turn off the big brain? i wonder what's the difference between medication and meditation.  i remember seeing a documentary on people with epilepsy who experience almost hallucinogenic awe...the golden buzzing glow. thing is as soon as they're placed on medication intended to alleviate the seizures many slump into a dulled depression, the fireworks stop, the colors dim, the visions cease replaced by a steady hum hum hum. the hum of ordinary-ness. and isn't that what i'm afraid of? i'm not going to include you reader, i wouldn't presume that you're a wily maverick always kickin' against the pricks, always shifting course..exploring, circling, wandering. and meditation, will it blunt my sharp edges, my quirky jerks and rambling? will it speak sweet peace to the angry woman living inside me. the woman who surprises me with her rage and disappointment, still sad as i peel away the failed attempts at everything.  these are m...

one evening last fall i had met some friends, Cat, Tom, Mike, et al... and accidentally got a little loopy drinking first, red wine, then easing into toffee flavored beers, oh yummy.  i had parked my car around the corner which now seemed, to my friends, too risky to drive, whatever. "oh no, i can dribe." ...thinking i had slunk away unnoticed i made my way to the car and was just about to unlock it when i was  hoisted over Mike's caveman shoulder and lugged away kicking like a baby, placed in a cab with Cat and escorted to my doorstep. upon waking the next morning i vaguely remembered that, "oh yeah, my car is three miles away." undeterred and emboldened by several espresso based drinks i walked the distance. it occurred to me in my hazy head that, "wouldn't it be funny to text Cat?" text: I'M A VERY BAD GIRL! as soon as i launch it i realize i've sent it to my cop landlord.... response: "WHAT?" like a homeless bag lady with a se...

so i'm sleeping on an air mattress from wal-mart -my least favourite place in the world-swaddled in sheets that even after a brief scalding wash are about as soft as sand-based toilet paper. what was i thinking when i fled chicago? i knew i might have a day or two in transition until i found a home but this, this is silly. my greatest longing of late is a nice set of hangers, even plastic will do. i left every single beautiful sculptural wood jacket hanger ...and loads of toiletries and cleaning products.  how about a sponge, i'd love a clean sponge. it's not that i can't buy more it's the idea that i left it all behind. who packs a sponge or a half bottle of murphy's oil soap?  and the poor kitties, they were subjected an airport ride in new unscented carriers, plucked from the bag before passing through security screening, shoved under a seat with a 10" clearance and had their ears pop with the same frequency as mine. then carted and shifted into another...

so i'm paying good money to stay in this overpriced precious 'cabin' in the travis heights area of Austin. there's a small bedroom, a little bathroom with a non-stop running toilet, and then the 'kitchen-screened-in-porch' that is shared with a small fox family and a rogue squirrel. now notice what i did not mention because for the most part we assume certain things about the places we pay money to stay. there is no closet, there are no hangers, there is no place to work except the dresser vanity in the bathroom where i have my laptop hooked up. (i'm watching myself type, pretty) the screened in kitchen has gaping holes in the screening where the animal families can come through and where my two cats are plotting their escape. i spent an hour catproofing the screen so at least they can't SEE the openings....but it didn't deter the squirrel i found sitting on my kitchen table. he must have climbed down the roof. ever see a trapped squirrel trying to w...