dirty mirrors. i cant seem to keep them clean.

I wore a black swimsuit and a yellow skirt I bought in front of a hot dog stand in NY. (25 cents!) (i had it cleaned, just chill) I didn't know how to accessorize it, and out of nowhere, like a magic cloud, my sister shows up with a bone bracelet she picked up for me in South Africa.  It's as though I did something extraordinary and now the gods love me or something. Something? 

Your friends are never gone

You know when you start to feel so much _____ and you just cry? Maybe because it just comes overwhelmingly natural to you but your cheeks and nose become wet, your eyebrows closer to one another, and your head bows down as to not let others see. It's all because you feel IT. You feel the sorrow, the joy, the tenderness of relationships, the praise in high hanging rhythms, the yearning for lost loved ones, the shame and pain in unforgivable, unretractable actions. Without these feelings first, what real thoughts have you? These feelings I've grown quite fond of; some of the most intense vibrations I've ever experienced. 

I recently read a letter from an old friend. They told me they missed me and hoped one day we had the time to meet again. I hoped for this, too. And I hope this friend knows now that even though we are far apart and our time is not spent conversing or giggling with one another over coffee and bread everyday, I am still thinking of them with strong feelings of joy, love, regret, and then gratitude. 

When life gives you James Perse

...you bake him banana cream pies, cinco leches cake, and alfajores.

There are two types of people in this world: People who liked The Cable Guy and yeah, well, you know the rest

I haven't written anything for sometime.  My hands have been hurting.  I have been so busy since we spoke last.
I have moved to Los Angeles.
I have gotten a job as a busser in an elegant little bistro downtown.
Was promoted to barback.
Then offered job as garden specialist.
I didn't spend as much time in the garden as I wanted.  I was concentrating more on researching and planning my next move.  The plants we had in were doing great.  All different types of herbs and veggies.  Basil, mint, sage, lavender,  thyme, and  so many more different varieties.

to be cont.

La Dolce Vita

Sometimes laying in bed all day and only getting up to smoke a cigarette or drink some water allows for some wonderful, much needed film time.  I watched La Dolce Vita, I am Trying to Break Your Heart, and Creature Comforts. Had I not I wouldn't have spent another hour wondering how Anouk Aimee became so wonderful.

Rough rough draft of a childrens story

Pg 1

(Boy playing piano with mom, dad, and pets dancing, singing)

"Once there lived a boy who loved to play music, paint pictures, and write stories.


Pg 2

(Boy playing piano with pets dancing around him)

"The boy would spend his mornings playing his piano."

Pg 3


"His days painting pictures."

Pg 4

(Boy writing and pets playing with costumes, swords etc, father watching, content/proud)
"And his nights writing stories of adventure and intrigue.


Pg 5

(Boy in living room w/ piano)
"One morning while playing his piano his fingers stopped and he found himself at loss for a tune. He thought of all the great musicians before him...Mozart, Bach, and Chopin! How amazing all of their works had been! The boy found himself feeling discouraged and thinking all of the beautiful music had already been made, and there was nothing left for him to make.


Pg 6

(Boy in art room surrounded by paintings, frowning)
So the boy went to his paints and pulled out a blank canvas. He sat and stared at the white canvas for hours. He looked up at his walls, covered in paintings from all the great painters before him...Van Gogh, Leonardo Davinci and Pablo Picasso. The boy became sad and said to himself "All of the beautiful paintings have already been painted and there is nothing left for me to paint."


Pg 7

(Boy with pen and pad in library type setting, frown)
So the boy moved on to his bedroom and pulled out his pen and paper. He looked up at the shelves filled to the brim with books inspired by love, friendship, and travel. Hemmingway, Kerouak, Tolstoy. He found himself unable to write down a single word. All of the beautiful things I wanted to play have already been played. All of the wonderous paintings I could have painted have already been painted, and all of the things I would love to write about have already written. There is nothing left for me to make.


Pg 8

(Boy, head down, getting into bed)
So the boy crawled into his bed and fell fast asleep.


Pg 9

(Boy in bed, w/ pets sad, and food(untouched) next to bed)
The next day the boy awoke feeling very tired, and quite ill. So he lay in bed all day long and did not get up for anything.


Pg 10

(Boy in bed, w/ mom taking temp, pets concerned)
The next day was the same. The boy did not get up. Not once. Not once to play his piano, paint his pictures, or even write his stories. His house was quiet.


Pg 11

(Boy in bed with father on phone, family& pets distraught)
By the third day, the boy had turned a faint color of grey and his family became worried. His father phoned the doctor and within a few hours, the doctor arrived at the front door.


Pg 12

"How are you feeling boy?" asked the doctor.
"I'm feeling very weak and tired, and I cannot leave me bed, doctor." replied the boy.
"Cannot leave your bed? Oh that sounds terrible! How long have you been feeling this way, boy?"
"For a few days now, I suppose..."
"A few days you say? Well, thats no good, boy! Let me take your temperature."


Pg 13

The doctor examined the boy and could find nothing wrong with him. Everything was normal!
So the doctor asked the boy a few more questions
"Young man, have you eating plenty of fruits and vegetables?"
"Yes, sir, I have."
"Getting plenty of rest?"
"Yes sir."
"Have you been getting lots of sunshine?"
"Yes, sir, all that comes through the window."
The doctor was puzzled. He did not understand why the boy was feeling too weak to leave his bed. so he told the boy and his family he would return in a few days to check on the boy again.


Pg 14

On the way home something strange happened to the doctor. A thought struck him.
"If I cannot help this boy, I cannot do what I love, which is to help people. And if I cannot help others, then what am I going to get out of bed for?"

Pg 15

So that night the doctor went to sleep feeling quite sad, and awoke the next morning feeling just as sad, if not more, and he thought to himself I cannot do what i love and i feel so sad i don't think i can leave my bed today.

Pg 16

So the doctor stayed in bed.  He stayed there all day and when the sun finally set, the doctor closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.

Pg 17

That night the doctor awoke from his sleep in a sweat.  I have been so selfish lying in bed all day long feeling sorry! I have not been doing the things I love to do!  Thats it!  Thats what I was fogetting!  He has not been wanting to paint and write and play his piano!  This is why he is feeling so ill! So the doctor threw on a robe and pair of slippers and ran out the door to the sick boy's house.

Pg 18

The doctor finally arrived at the boy's house feeling anxious yet strangely exhilarated and knocked on the front door. Oh I hope he is alright!  I have just the medicine to cure him!  Just then the door opened and in flew the doctor, right past his mother and father and into the boys room, where the boy was laying, fast asleep.

Pg 19

"Wake up boy!  I have just the medicine for you!"  The boy awoke with a fright!
"What is it doctor?  Whats wrong with me?"
"There is nothing wrong with you!" said the doctor. "You have been getting sun, eating your vegetables, and you don't have a temperature!  I forgot to ask you one very important question, boy."

"What question is that doctor?" the boy replied.
The doctor looked at the sick boy and smiled.
"Have you been doing the things that you love to do?"

Pg 20

The boy looked at the doctor, looking so sad and said,
"I cannot do the things I love to do.  All of the beautiful works of art have already been created, all of the wonderful compositions have already been composed and all of the great works of writing have already been written.  There is nothing left for me to make."

"Ah" the doctor said "I fear you are quite wrong about this, boy.  You make your family so joyful when you practice the things you love to do.  Your body feels happy when your heart feels happy.  When you stop doing the things you love to do, your body feels sick, because your heart feels sad.  You see?  So don't look at what others are creating, create for yourself, and for those who love you.

You see, boy?"

21

The boy did see.  He immediately knew what he had to do.  He pulled back the sheets, jumped out of bed and ran to his piano.  "Follow me, doctor!"

The two ran down the stairs and into the living room.  Thy boy played as his family and friends danced.  They danced until the sun came up and through the next day as well.  And everything was beautiful, and the boy was happy.

I knew this kid while growing up that was always trying to kill himself.  He hung himself from the metal pieces that that pulled up the garage door.  This means nothing in the big scheme of things, but it meant a great deal to his younger sister, who tried and tried to be only kind to her brother.  She would make 2 hot cocoas whenever she went for one herself.  She would always ask, first thing every morning if he needed to use the bathroom before she would go to use it herself.  She would pick up his plate when he was done eating.  With her head held in the middle (never high) and her shoulders a bit sheepish.  She wanted to be kind to him, not because he was worthy of such treatment, but because she loved him.