TReading Life

I was just thinking that I wish the Time Reality for Reading was a completely separate one from Time passing in general. I wish I could just sit and read all the brilliance in the world without it being a choice over other things that may or may not be more important throughout the rest of life’s occurrences.

Epic

Bannaroo in the Balance

It all started when Rachel said she was going to Bonnaroo with a beer brewery in an RV. I kinda knew I wanted to go, and threw it out there to see if there was a spot for me in the RV. She said she thought there actually might be and that I would just get a ticket and catch a ride. BUT now it looks even more sunny for Tennessee, because they might have a guest pass for me. This would mean no purchasing a ticket necessary if I would just pour beer for a few hours a day. I think I can tap that. Let’s make it happen!

Dear Heart & Mind, quit playing games with each-other.

Maybe I’m not really Penny Lane. I might just be a big talker. I mean look at what’s going on right now. I have no idea where to put my foot to take a next step. I fooled myself over and over again, so by the second over I should have been onto myself, but now everything seems all twisted. I know I am restless; can’t fall into something that stays the same for too long, and I know that I love music. But I don’t love all music, and I don’t act well enough to make loving certain music my job. I don’t want to pretend I don’t play favorites. I totally play favorites, and it’s not even playing. I hate promotions. Blah Blah Blah everyone says everyone needs to stick what they’re working on down people’s throats in order to make it happen but I don’t want to be that girl.

It sucks really loving everything about musician’s and their lives, but not being one. Oh and a few words about beginnings. I think I suffer from a love of beginnings too. I romanticize what people and things and jobs might be, and then I get quickly disappointed by their reality and freak out and try to move on. 

My heart and mind are playing tag with each-other , leaving me out in confusion without plain sight. And when my thoughts are ‘it’ they  go Ring a Round the Rosi, with no resolution and come crashing down with ashes, ashes.

Points

Well at least all experiences, good and bad, can teach us more about ourselves. I know I need to travel, I know I get restless, I know I love music, and I know that I have big eyes. Unfortunately I have very little patience, both when time is passing and in dealing with people I don’t particularly like. That’s how I ended up on the street with Chris from France smoking a cigarette right outside Friday night dinner. I just think that people who don’t know what they are speaking about should not start bothering me with ignorant and offensive questions. So what if I like bands and cannot play or sing? Don’t you dare call me “just a groupie.” And yes I know it was a little extreme to run outside and make you feel like a douche in front of all those people, but that’s what you get for being a douche. Not sorry. And I am trying to find my place. I have a meeting with Dave on Tuesday. I am grateful for people in my life who can see aspects of my life clearly when I cannot. For instance, Lady asking me the reason why I like something or someone seems like a simple question, but I had never thought of it that way. This one little exercise made me realize things aren’t as they have seemed (for so very- long to me). It is ok to nod to a crush and then realize it is nothing more. It is also ok to tap into comfort, laughter, and a good time. Ok, now I need my coffee.

Late.

It was all lost on you.

Windblown

“Within this temporal body composed of a hundred bones and nine holes there resides a spirit which, for lack of an adequate name, I think of as windblown.”            -Basho

Big Sur

If the most richly pigmented faces of this planet were brought together behind a veil of darkness, they would play a role in the pacific coast at night. Quite some time after the fog following dissipates, yet long before any morning rays would dare begin to shine, or any morning dew would dare to liquify, the stars come out and pierce through the atmosphere like glistening eyes; hundreds of them, seducing the blackened hills. The road twirls around this enchanted meeting teasing anyone fortunate to grace the scene with their presence. And witness its dark stunning magic.

These Little Photographs

…The previous few posts of writing are slightly incoherent, poetic ones. I seem to think that these little photographs taken on my blackberry during the adventure compliment those posts. It is a neat way to wrap up the slightly too artsy to some way of documenting what I’ve been doing. And now I can go on to proper story telling and quality photos…

love In.

Love is pain. But the lack of it is excruciating. I am an expert in it, but have never experienced it. I am teased by tales and hand out advice and watch as love’s threads are woven in and out of all around me. This woven cloak of passion and despair is one I observe while I wait on the outskirts. Shivering and Alone.

Their Majesty

I’d love to be Alice or even one of the lost boys and get to live always in the sort of trees I saw that day. There is no kind of nature I love more, and considering the excruciating beauty I have been so lucky to behold over the past number of days…that’s quite a bold statement. Yet none the falser. There is so much mystery in the walls of the pungent bark. Nostalgia that isn’t even mine haunts me from deep within the wood and crevices. What these trees have witnessed over years and years and time is something I’d like to know. I wish I could sit and Smell and Feel it all in for longer. For then I’d be able to Listen to the whispered secrets these majestic trees might dare to share.

Hippietized

I get teased regularly for being overly esoteric, a helpless romantic, free loving, and free flowing with optimism. I wear Jesus sandals and I have curly hair. I like the feeling of warm winds billowing against me, wrapping me in natures most intense hugs. I keep losing my breath on these delicious winding roads up the coasts surrounded by hills. I get surges of happiness from what I see and smell. And yes these surges of happiness are sidestepped by actual aches deep inside me because of how utterly striking it all is. These past few days and maybe even a week has made me wish more than ever never to fall into a routine in one place. I yearn to see more beauty. I cannot settle.

Side Folk

Someone’s AIM profile quote in the good old junior high a/s/l days said something about how not everyone can be stars- someone needs to be at the side of the road and clap as they walk by. Honestly I never wanted to be famousI never wanted to be an actress. However, my life amongst constant talent has often placed me near the limelight. People notice me and people take to me. This is not narcissistic, ok? I’m just wondering with visible proof. There is a reason that these industries end up in my life and I end up surrounded by these folk on all sides. But what happens to the sideman when he gets fed up with feeding the cake to the people who want to eat their cake and have it too? He seemed rather bitter and dark and quite frankly even angry last time I spoke with him. The glint in his eyes and the jokes he harmonized to are fading. Everyone needs to be a star in their own show. And so I would call a successful sort of me, the one who manages to serve the cake while I eat my own too. And call me naive, but with this awareness I do believe I can.

Eerie-tales

My life is an open book, and I did make that decision to fill it up with tales of wonderful life experience. However, sometimes I wonder how the plot lines turn up three degrees away from the foreshadowed themes. I am also very susceptible to the the power of suggestion; even and especially it’s self imposed. I can convince myself of almost anything and sometimes that means opinion-whiplash in hindsight. All of a sudden I see how those compliments were really not just comfort compliments. There is a lot more to them, and that makes me Bug. She thought I was her because I really like him.

Twisted & Twister

I don’t like thinking that everything happens for a reason. The neatly tied up box with a ribbon at the top form of life events is not something that makes a lot of cameos in my life. I asked one hundred times when the last night I could be here was, and I had a clean response of Saturday night. But then she decided to move the break the wall and take out the furniture day to 7 a.m. on Friday. 7 a.m. might have been forgivable somehow if I had not already nodded to houseguests. More people have air mattresses than I would have thought. And I lugged them in the monsoon downpours to the winery for them. (people are sometimes awesome- I’m starting to think these sort of people are what the word friend was intended for). 

The assholes decided to book hotel rooms instead. Rosi and I headed to a diner for an all american grilled cheese sandwich cut in triangles and all just like middle school. This was after she recorded in an all american superstar studio. ‘”I went down on him,” she said.’ and “Let’s go find some assholes.” were just two of the funny things she came up with that evening. 

See, assholes or not we both had anxiety at the same time for our boys in the sky. Our fears and mindsets are constantly colliding. It’s great stuff. 

So we went to find the boys in the west village for some drinks. Because no-one really is sober. And we got to laugh and try on different hats for a while. She kissed him and he kissed me and geometrical shapes are starting to encroach on our lives in the oddest forms.

Clear Channel

The weather refused to predict nothing but rain. However, the Billboard shoot took a few hours of sunshine. Literally and figuratively. I’m not just talking about the abundance of pizza and cupcakes. I am speaking of the absolute thrill I had watching the five cameras collaborating to shoot Rosi with the most beautiful direction. He was definitely insane and a mad scientist of sorts, but it was amazing to watch him at work and I understood what it was all about. The light, the shadows, the swooping, the timing with the music and the unexpected angles had me completely mesmerized. I practically skipped to work (an hour late) like a five year old little boy who had gotten to see the inside of a fire truck. And it turns out the producer was a lady named Chris and she tour managed a bunch of bands like The Strokes and I think even Bright Eyes, and I need to talk to her about it.

 

Walking the Miles in Bits and Pieces

Mum is an under-expresser. So is Charlie. The Father is an over-expresser. And so am I. Rivka is somewhere in between. She bottles things up and way too quiet for most of the time and then goes off like a pistol if she is triggered and over-expresses in the most extreme way. But going back to Mum…Today I was able to lure some of her under expressed insights out of her. Amidst sobs and tears after being violently ill at Home, I begged her with bloodshot eyes to explain what she was thinking. They have been known to say that mothers know everything. And even if getting older sheds cynicism on that statement, mothers definitely know more about their children than they’d care to consider. So Mum explained that it’s ok that I am wary of relationships and commitment. However it is not ok for me to sabatage my future by just following a lull of actions and bits of jobs with the mindset that I am just a figure blowing in the wind with no goals.

Short term or Long term….goals are important just to take any size steps with conviction. I realize now that she means to retire to the homeland and I had never seen her so open to that before. 

So purchasing an open ticket for the globe for the fall is not a bad idea Mumsey. India is not just a dream…and neither is my will to leave this city of love/hate for traveling and self exploration…