I try and describe my feelings. . . thoughts. . . experience. . .
I make comparisons:
when I loved in Portland in 1999
I remember it as being my happiest
I was stoned every day
worked at a bath house: had sex about three times a day (rarely anal; never bottomed)
went to a nude beach or hot spring almost every weekend
only listened to music at work
mostly hung with kids
slept on blankets in a sleeping bag (no bed)
often in the back yard
woke every morning at about 5:30
most often walked to work (two miles)
- had a schedule (and a job)
is it fair to say "happiest"?
I may have just been very high
surfing on oxytocin
I do remember constant anxiety about diseases (that bath house was filthy; gay=AIDS/death still in my mind then)
but by "happiest"
I remember being filled with passion and excitement and hope and desires
yet I also had a zen about everything
a calm perspective
or I'm just full of nostalgic bullshit
it was green and moist and limited
able to be comprehended
and relaxed into
Most of my friends were near my age
we'd hang in coffee houses. tea houses. book stores. parks. graveyards.
I. . .
I keep talking about being depressed now
K doesn't experience me like that
and calls it all bullshit
as if I'm attracted to an idea of myself like that
and I wonder if that is what is inside, underneath
or just garbage in my head
I'm a mind person
could I just follow my own actions and feel I had an entirely different identity than I think I have?
I talk about having a closed heart
not being good at loving
J says "don't believe everything that you think"
"it becomes a problem when you take all those thoughts as serious and real and make a big deal out of them"
T says I am very caring, very loving, very joyful and alive to watch
maybe a park of me is a great dark daemon that likes to tell me I'm dead all the time
keeps singing me that song
while the little kid of me keeps dancing and playing
. . . I've been telling myself this story for over a year
since going to be with Dying L
about how I don't really love anyone
not really. . . not entirely. . .
just some fantasy idea of them. . . not the real them. . .
then I filled myself with guilt and shame about it
and have been drowning under that garbage since then
the whole situation made me hate The Church again (any of them, really. I'm still fine with Jesus as a story. . . but any time I hear anyone talk about any of the Christian shit I feel like screaming and smashing shit)
wow, how difficult to love someone when you hate their religion
wow, how easy to hate when it involves religions
the stories that make up the world
the stories we might be allergic to
the stories that make us wrong, bad, evil
where's my zen perspective now?
. . . probably lost in one of the piles around my apartment
yeah, and I continue to move the stacks around
I try and describe my feelings. . . thoughts. . . experience. . .
I woke late yesterday
I think it was a morning of double waking
but around noon
in bed til 2
on the video-phone with my mother
and then Koos
who told me I was beautiful, damnit
and would have to tell me again later in the day
while eating a gourmet grilled cheese with white truffle mayo and tater tots at MELT in the plaza of Lexington and 53rd
looking up at all those high towers of glass
wondering what it would be like to work in one
so many people know. . .
I worked for a temp agencey once
in 1998, I think
staying with JP, yeah
working for orthodox Jews in the jewelry district
yeah. . .
could I fake it and pass?
be sent into those towers of glass
to be bored to death by recycled air?
I spoke with dust while thinking this
friends are inspiring to life
I went to see a show called Closer Than Ever
with a man who has the rare experience of having a gay life and a straight life
each with limitations
but it made the relationship stories of these songs poignant in a sympathetic way
sitting next to him
I didn't feel they were singing about my experience very much
I got it
I walked through the city
the night air cool on my bare arms
cool for me
on the train
the car I entered had only one seat open
and was quite crowded
no one took it: big fat man sitting there
I took it
telling him I'd balance on the ledge
he said "no, that's ok. . . "
so I nuzzled back in with him
my body being enveloped by him
he was dressed boring
wasn't a handsome face
but it made the ride so cozy
I find my sense of comfort and attraction very odd
two dapper gay fellows treated me like some famous person
pointing at me and talking to eachother and smiling shyly when I caught them
they waved as they left
I read John Waters talking about Lady Zorro and the Catholic Church as some skinny black guy got on in neon green reflective vest lettered "JESUS SAVES"
going on and on and on about how we're all sinners and should be afraid and repent
and I was happy that various people either told him to shut up
or re-examine Jesus
I didn't have to say anything
and plugged my earphones in to play some Bhagavad Gita
til I walked home
I talked with Koos again
(he must have felt me come in and called me instantly on FaceTime)
just go to sleep
if you try to write or finish the chapter or anything
you will be up til four
of course not
I can't even say how it happened
the time just got sucked away
I got lost in all sorts of music and stories on the Internet
and here we are
may as well take the time to type it out anyway
can I sleep for a few hours?
see old friends
connect with some
older than others
113 at the last 13 to be the 23rd
not exactly theatrically
but some inexpensive useful things
and more books to stack up
offer your knowledge
had you smoked already?
talking like a monster
like a monster
impress everyone into gratitude
and hand out your card to a Persian mystic (of a mundane sort) offering your ability as a psychedelic guide
call your friends assholes
in a friendly way
way to much
in order for the day
right on time
I always say too much
I went to see a film with Koos called
"Safety Not Guaranteed"
an indie flic set in the pacific north west
some of it may have been shot on an iPhone. . .
possibly a 3GS
it kept me guessing
and brought tears to my eyes
was generally entertaining
and kept me thinking about it
even more important
it set my emotions flowing in an inspirational current that caught me up continually a good while after it ended
(I saw someone in the movie house who stood out to me. . . and as we left he was on the phone just outside the door. . . when I recognized him as a friend of a friend that I'd never met but had sent a few messages on Facebook. . . and never heard a reply. . . but he said my name to me as I said hello. . . interrupting his phone call, we shook hands. . . )
(I recall, in conversation, speaking of how, last year, no matter what physical and emotional pains I was suffering, disease. . .disillusionment, I was filled with a feeling of gratitude. . . and, as often with perspective gained over time, I told the story as that grace period of gratefulness ending when I went to that spiritual healer. . . and pressed my heart against the pains of my loved ones and asked the spirits to flow through me and help heal those people I love. . . and in telling that story tonight I came to an even fuller understanding of: I gave up on Healing other people years ago: it was making me bitter all the time: I kept laying my life in the fire to help other people and I felt they squandered my love. . . (note: judgements placed on loving will always cause pain: best not to bring your knife into the house of love); I also remembered a friend who operated in the Buddhist paradigm explain to me that
when you do healing work for others you have to deal with their Karma: eat it or cut it or burn it or express it: live it out. Many of those loved ones are doing well right now: I'm suffering (the smallest things) greatly. beast of burden and all that. Oh. Also, I thought of the experience I had of being disillusioned.. with a great lover I had just expressed my love to on an entirely new level. . . only to find, yet again, I didn't know him at all. . . just the facets and projections I found useful or entertaining. . . pleasurable. that would make a great novel. . . or at least cathartic writing experience.)
(I had half a truffle and half a bottle of wine. . . and time may conspire with those to rinse out these epiphanies. . . so I'm making this note more for myself. . . )
Tony and I went to see Martha Wainwright at the City Winery
which felt like being in Napa. . .
in fact, their cask wines were from Napa and Lake County
and the prices and energy felt like that pricey pretentious bourgeois beauty prominent in Napa
but the wine we had was tasty
and the sautéed chard and wild mushroom "flatbread" was good
The opening performer does not deserve mention. . . but a chubby jewish friend of his came on for one song to play the baritone guitar
he was cute to watch and will be performing at Rockwood tomorrow (Monday) on Allen street, just south of Houston
Martha was amazing
she had fun thrashing around in her performance spasms
even wearing a "Kiki" grimace for a few of her covers
giving beautiful introductions to the Piaf songs. . . which she breathed life into
. . . but she opened the show with three "newish" songs that will be on her new album.
two I had heard last time I saw her live with Tony
but the second song she played was new to me
her first song about Motherhood
she told us
where she begged her child to be smarter than she was
and understand that she would live as long as she could handle it
but mainly she was just a stepping stone for her child to do what they had to do here
not to get hung up on her. . .
she then played the song "Your Clothes", which still haunts me, about her experience of going through her mother's clothes after she died of cancer a few years ago.
Martha Wainwright will never be exceptionally commercial
but she's a beautiful poet who speaks as truthfully as she can
a fantastic live performer
and someone who's struggle I am sympathetic with
I admire her as an artist
if you haven't listened to her
I suggest it.
we are living in a time of abundance
there are those that tell us
it will all run out
or be polluted
or controlled and taken away
what if the world is
there isn't time
what if it's just whatever we want it to be
("we" as in: the universal spirit of humanity/the world/our universe
"want" as in: what our heart as a whole decides to manifest as our reality)
the limited supply of helium on this planet that we're squandering on floating balloons
won't ever run out
we'll have it always
we'll always have enough oil
and happy skies
if we just believe
if we keep the ball going
keep it up in the air
outside of the ideas of
What Goes Up Must Come Down
why is any joy for me always obscured by knowing that the ball will drop?
maybe we'll never need to sleep
or exhale. . .
I explained the philosophical idea of "Objectivism" to Koos today
that was the world I grew up in
(Fuck You very much, Ayn)
but have always resonated more on the easterly channels of
this whole world is created by Us
None of Us are Independent
and, when we do drop the concept of separateness
understanding the use of our ego
but realizing to each other more as deities in the divine
( oh! ego trip! people often have asked me if anyone ever calls me "D.Vine" and I've always shrugged it off. . . but if I wanted to express my ego as even more out of control than it is and actually use it as a moniker it would be very clever to style it as
because the : is kinda like and i. . . get it? ha!)
(ummm, sorry. ok.)
and working together as cells in a body
identifying as just tiny pieces in the universal body with specifics tasks to perform until our usefulness is expended
we could still have some "fun" (woooo!hooo!)
but we could work together with more love and honesty and create more beauty and destroy and abuse each other
wouldn't that be Awesome?
amazing to me
the go after
I wanted to say
it's amazing to me
the lengths we go to
how many castles we build
to protect ourselves from it
how many traps we lay
to ensnare it
how many daggers
to kill it
what songs and theatrics
begging for it
building and destroying kingdoms
stabbing our kin in the back
sitting next to love
wanting only to flee. . .
did I say "we"?
I'm sure I mean "me"
if I could make wishes
...presuming I didn't just accept myself as I am
I would wish to
keep a clean house
be more athletic
have a better spiritual/mental/emotional discipline
be more compassionate to other people's lives
enjoy the world around me more
see things more of what they are than of the projections I beam on them
generally what everyone wishes for
I love seeing my idols (always temporary for me) in their human frailties
it does me good to see someone terrified
when I know they perform graceful and sublime work
I'm a fine freak
I don't try too hard at it
I don't feel comfortable in or out of it
I tend to agree with their actions more than I do mainstream people
but criticize just as many
I always fantasize about appearing "normal" again
shaving my face every day
and tucking my shirt in
. . . maybe even tying a tie. . .
I'm fetishizing "normal"
which, again, makes me a freak
so I'll always be more comfortable being an obvious misfit
instead of playing the game of appearing solidly ideal. . .
I gave a litany of imperfections about Humans
I can't help but always see them/us for our insidious evil
destroying the earth
my self-loathing is multi-ply!
being a man
etc. . .
all of these are umbrated by being Human
deep shame at this sorry state I have fallen to. . .
though I know I could see all and any of these same traits as reason for Pride!
(yay! happy pride! happy lust! happy gluttony! . . . )
. . . if I were more a celebrant
than tedious old Ezekiel
-everyone stinks of coffee sweat-
first time at the office since I got back
and i had no patience for it
civilization and society are important
but a big factor of my identity (for better or worse)
is I cannot please people all the time
I cannot listen
be patient with
be grateful of
I cannot always have an open heart
I cannot always be awake
as much as I'd like to. . .
as much as I'd like to sleep all the time
surf in dreams
as often as they are nightmares
as often as they are tedious and nonsensical
as often as I am omniscient or omnipotent
saving the day
or used to
sometimes. . .
wish I woke with the dawn
though I have struggled
to be polite
though I struggle
to write a book
to wake with the sunrise
and I have to be Ok with that
coz it is what is
it's beautiful anyway
two bears I hadn't seen in quite a while hugged and kissed me on 23rd street
before I got a matcha bubble tea
I got to pull off some magic for Koos
appear in a puff of smoke he exhaled from his fingers
standing behind him at the movie theater
watched The Avengers
amazed by all the zippers
met up with the jailbird and the lion sage
saw a play
a ritual blessing of balance
silliness and play
look what we can do!
the world is full of options. . .
I squeezed in next to a princess and pulled out my iPad to watch the rest of "Neverland"
she actually said "seriously?" in the mocking bitchy tone I'd only ever heard queens feign
girls are horrible monsters!
". . . only sometimes
they must be
the night carried me through it
the beautifully colorful morning clouds are singing me to sleep
the gates have been locked
12 months from now
my wild secret garden
will be reopened as a Nice Park
which I don't think we need more of
I wish I could make some case for the necessity of nude sun bathing in manhattan
but most of the people who used the beach just used it for cruising
ignoring the raspberries and mugwort
never climbing the trees
and hardly ever laying naked in the sun
. . . there were a few of us, though
it makes me want to run away to Europe again
where a friend wouldn't have to spend a night in jail just for drinking a beer by the river
where being naked in nature would be understood as a human right
and I doubt they'd be killing a thousand geese a year just to cut down the chance of planes engines getting clogged
maybe if we kill all of the nature
things will be perfect?
I'm hardly one to talk, though
can't sleep like any human being
lay down to sleep at sunset
blessedly I slept
but woke "in the middle of the night"
only to find it was 10:30
after gnawing on myself a bit
I went for a walk
got some food
and then set to work on learning new aspects of video editing
I could feel the prospects of the project filling me with passion
to solve the problem
to create something
execute a vision
even though the steps necessary to manifest my idea seemed daunting
I knew it would just take time
just lots of focused time
which I don't have a good track record of implementing
but I can feel its possible
then the program crashes
and the birds start singing
so I can brush my teeth
and lay down
hoping for some easy rest
now that the sky is lightening
it will all be in the right place
(everything is in its right place)
( if the ceiling doesn't cave in )
then find something useful to do
scrape up the feeling of obligation
surf that artificial motivation
alien with friends
as are they are
go for a walk
feel the trees greet you
the air here
moist and cool
the wood chi tendrils brushing the skin and hair
you know the way
through this deep dark forest
through this beautiful park
its wild animals
these people are your people
these views are your kingdom
we're all here together
we know the way
and forgive our tragedies
feel grateful for our quiet depression
over the tales of passionate
and destructive ones
hear from friends
even reach out to some
receiving manic bliss
ebbing life wanness
and reveling in the failures of past friends
I told him
one of the reasons I'm isolating myself
I'm being a real bitch
so I'm keeping to myself
keeping my hands busy
and urging them to move to actions of creation
over killing time
or spreading discord
but I do not have control
only sway. . .
... I didn't take Facebook at all seriously for the first two years I was on it... I'm still pretty loose with it and think of it as this era's "AOL" (this too shall pass)... so I've got 1700 "friends"... many of whom I do not know at all. I occasionally look through the newsfeed.l. but not often.
however... a few weeks ago I saw some guy post about how he met some guy "with zero help from the Internet" and fell in love a year ago and with the greatest man EVER!
which I thought was a sweet way of celebrating the anniversary... I'm so reticent to believe in romantic "love" but it made me feel I should be less cynical of it...
I don't really know the fellow...
but I saw a post from him today (he posts a lot) saying how he's just gone through a terrible break-up and is so grateful for his mom and friends for helping him through it.
OH... greatest man ever broke up with you on your anniversary?
yeah, that's what I thought. oh well.
the universe will support you on whatever idea you hold as true, I know..
it takes a while to weed out these echos and reflections...
it's worth it to believe in love
to sculpt a vision
hold it precious
we'll try that
as the route of keeping love at assistance isn't too pleasing