one way to freak the fuck out of a date: tell them youre actually six people

According to the 90 question test in the introduction to "what color is your aura" -the book i sat on a used book store floor reading for an hour last week - im equal parts five lightcolors. the author swears every one is ONLY ONE. sometimes there are internal and external rings of light. but thats rare and usually because of a life changing trauma of massive proportions. but i did the math twice and there is no way around it. i come out to a poop brown.
this is not the first time ive flown in the face of an ancient art of telling-you-who-you-are-because-you-cant-figure-it-out. i defy palm readers, i once had my cards read and blew the woman out of the water, it doesnt matter if mars is in my venus, or plutos in the house shit never makes sense when it comes to me. and why should it? my rational 90 percent knows the only way to know thyself is turn off the music and listen... and yet, im wierdly determined to try it all, fixated on finding a system that will somehow make sense of the chaos.
ive always had a suspicion that i've got more than one guest in the old upstairs hostel - something beyond voices, beyond the average self-conscious person's running inner commentary. also beyond the average hormonal bitches mood swings. all of which have been suggested by well meaning and somewhat uncomfortable friends.

waiting and finding. and losing. and waiting to stop expecting that to change.

Waiting and Finding

by Jack Gilbert

While he was in kindergarten, everybody wanted to play

the tomtoms when it came time for that. You had to

run in order to get there first, and he would not.

So he always had a triangle. He does not remember

how they played the tomtoms, but he sees clearly

their Chinese look. Red with dragons front and back

and gold studs around that held the drumhead tight.

If you had a triangle, you didn’t really make music.

You mostly waited while the tambourines and tomtoms

went on a long time. Until there was a signal for all

triangle people to hit them the right way. Usually once.

Then it was tomtoms and waiting some more. But what

he remembers is the sound of the triangle. A perfect,

shimmering sound that has lasted all his long life.

Fading out and coming again after a while. Getting lost

and the waiting for it to come again. Waiting meaning

without things. Meaning love sometimes dying out,

sometimes being taken away. Meaning that often he lives

silent in the middle of the world’s music. Waiting

for the best to come again. Beginning to hear the silence

as he waits. Beginning to like the silence maybe too much.

pictures from my buggerberry

Poet light bringer Iyeoka at Harpers Ferry


Slick Rick and Bad Rabbits at Harpers Ferry

radiance. snapped on the T at 8:05 AM.

ahhh.

what a night.

wierd and wonderful weather, really.

A Meeting of the Birds

It's been weird weather. Storms that brew
but don't break, winds that strew
small branches and leaf litter,
sun and rain in equal measure,
cold so deadly it's the talk of town,
and no one's sure if the drought's broken.

It's been weird weather. Especially
this morning. Tim calls me excitedly
to the window—look, a meeting
of the birds—in the grey, fraying
limbs of the dead tree, distorted semaphore,
pink and grey galahs, hooked tooth and claw.

Tim, like me, is sceptical of allegory,
though he insists, and I agree
that the weight of the birds
might collapse the tree, their words
frenetic, ecstatic, hyped,
their perches stressed and cracked.

It's been weird weather. A sudden
gust of wind sweeps in
and shakes the living dead,
splintering feathers, drawing red
out of the galahs' pink chests.
An apogee of conference.

It's weird weather. Something
had to give. Gutturals are rumbling
hollow, shreds of the tattered
sun strobe through. Tim's dread
of what will come—broken hymns—
I will never again walk under its limbs.



John Kinsella

trying to find something you can feel that you can believe in

it was on a run yesterday listening to music when i realized id finally grown into a song ive always loved. much like i grew into my mothers big amber beads that i coveted as a child, but at the time as she pointed out, they wore me. until one day i tried them on again and i was able to carry them. and it was glorious. and then my mother told me to keep dreaming and stop rummaging through her shit.

back to the song, here it is:


i am finally openly confused enough to appreciate the songs message about searching for yourself. and its mixed message about finding yourself in someone else. something i wrestly with and probably always will.

for a while now ive felt like a lost tourist in my own life. and not just a little bit lacking in direction. im talkin map unfolded wide as my wingspan mouth hangin open no idea which way is up or what the word for up is in this country or whether up is even where i want to head.



whats different now is that i'm dead tired of pretending that i'm NOT lost. im tired of folding the map down to a tiny square that can be hidden in my palm, tired of rehearsing phrases before i say them so i dont sound like a foreigner...tired of projecting fascinating plans into my future; of rehashing old stories from my past to make up for what has sometimes felt like a plot-less present.

its terrifying to take off the training wheels of identity that we are given by our parents. not just our past but our future and all the assumptions that went along with it are called into question. to actually face the reality of a moment and the idea of open possibility...that has been difficult for me. but if for no other reason, im happy with where i am for the fact that its breaking me out of old patterns. growing slowly into new songs.

another song gifted to me last year that makes me happy.
B you will like this one if you dont have it allready:

Trespass Against Me

Mouth at my ear
i think youre telling me about
a typewriter you found
in an abandoned mill
but words are dragged out
to the sea of sound around us
leaving me with just the breath that formed them
ghosts dancing up the back of my neck
we give in
to the crowds compression
we are held
upright by the press of stranger love
an embrace ill pull in tight around me later
walking home in stripping wind
imagining your mill
how it would feel to slide in
through a paneless window
wander with you stepping over
each glass scattered shadow
tracing fingers across muscles of machinery
to feel our way into the lightless inner rooms
filling hallowed space
with the breathless music of discovery

i am reading the letter correspondence between elizabeth bishop and robert lowell

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster

-elizabeth bishop

a life without gripe is not realistic. and no fun.

i was reading The Last Lecture, which is so affecting and impressive if only for the way Pausch serves up his wisdom in bite-sized portions- wisdom can be hard to digest at all, nevermind wisdom from a dying lecturing professor of computer science. He talks about the time wasted complaining... how he was able to remain positive through his battle with cancer, and even when he gave in to his imminent death his optimism allowed him to enjoy the time he had left.
i cant argue with that. i cant do anything but admire that.
on the other hand, and this i cant help, people who are relentlessly, aggresively optimistic cause me to have dark thoughts and violent urges.
maybe one day ill encounter some form of enlightenment that allows me to spin everything in a positive light, see the best in all people, disentangle myself from the aggrivations that snare me throughout my day, NOT kick the side of the T in frustration for the fact that im late and its the third one to pass with no room for a single passenger...
but at this point in my life im not that mature. and complaining is perfectly acceptable when its done with the right spirit. and its worth the pain of a most-likely broken big toe.

here is a list of complaints filed by my office to the national coordinator who had no idea the kind of bag she was opening when she asked us if we had any issues with our current space. I didnt write this list so i take no credit for its dramatic flair but i am particularly fond of the approximation of the number of chairs in excess in our conference room (true) and order in which the problems are presented with dying plants (see picture) as the priority item:

Hi;
Per your request, below please find some of the greatest problems the Boston team has been having:
• Plants are dying and falling into the entryway
o At least 4 plants are completely dead and scattering leaves throughout the hallway and entryway
o One tree has fallen onto an employee’s desk and upon moving has fallen onto the ground and is coming out of the pot
• The ladies bathroom is absolutely disgusting
o On a daily basis toilets are not flushed and several have been close to overflowing
• The conference room is a complete mess and unacceptable for client meetings
o Approximately 20 additional chairs that do not fit around the conference table
o Random electronics and wires scattered throughout the room
o When room is occupied, employees have no other meeting place that is closed and confidential
• Often have internet issues which affect the VPN – all employees are repeatedly kicked off of the network in the office due to internet and firewall issues in the adjacent office
o Internet has completely gone out or is very slow at least once a month – this also affects the phone lines
• the adjacent office's employees often conduct team meetings in the hallways or meetings on speakerphone which is distracting when our team is on calls
• The office is often extremely cold-we often wear gloves while typing- and there isn’t any way to change the thermostat

Please let us know if you have any questions about the above issues.