summer ends in this city...
|august 31 1998
"picture this" he says.
one more concept and i'm away from this place
finally, the bittersweet glances at the past year are coagulating to become a solid view of the here and the now - a better perspective of what we have, a n enhanced view of my situation, something with a real effect - not only wishing this or that and the brilliant opportunity that is to look ahead to the future.
august 29th 1998
can we dream of a world where no one is there-
are we visions ourselves is this lovely we
when the words that we know are the ones that we use and the sentances placed can't be all that we choose
when we know more what's wrong than what's
right then it seems
august 28h 1998
oh what a beautiful morning...
more of this august summer fills me with nostalgia and sorrow-
wishing i could capture the air and keep it as still as it is,
forever. the poplar's highest leaves twinkle in the early sun
the maples, side by each losing their three-Dness only with
each passerby. no one knows but you - yes, no one knows
how i cannot really even stop and think about what days like
these remind me of - there's a pressure cooker hiding the past,
as if lost inside me were scars of abuse; it may be a horrid
analogy and i apologize for that, but hiding inside me are
those sunny sunny days. i can still taste the mud pies under the
smiley's cherry tree, practically remembering
the paths we
and no one needs scorsinzki or speilberg to do that. you just need yourself
if you can. if you can look out the window and see the past-wrapped up in
a ball of august 28th, splintered with life's trials and nails,
no i do not accept it - the time that comes between now and then,
all time that is meaningless in perspective; moments which have little
weight in my heart. impressions old are the deepest, the most profound.
before pre-judice; before experience; before 'life as we know it' and
zippidy doo dah too.
nothing can or will ever change that.
and i am not an unhappy person, just a very alive one
scarred by the past
august 26th 1998
every so often, we do or say things to remind us how alive we just are.
talking about our new car , sending snarky e-mails, having parties for ourself; these are some of those things.
before, when i was a bit more free; i wrote alot of stuff here.
i don't have time to be free right now.
i've decided to be healthy instead, and so my freedom will have to suffer. for now.
bancha hot; Gardenia wet; being awake; not yet.
just rush out and do it; wait another day; moments can't be captured
how to phrase our own unique perspectives. boxes still behind me reminders of movement;
am i ever completely centered
we want to hear what is certain dollars and cents are; confirm the
the number of pixels on my screen;
i'm forcing a settling
august 21th 1998
tie it up in a clean satin ribbon
i'll sit and stare at it
all you have to do is behave nicely - it causes the circle to spin.
smile at love
august 18th 1998
monkeys floor-bound and groceries in
life hands me funny turns - which are hard to accept when you think you're in control. now, really now, how did i get here? is this my life and my beautiful wife? half of me says this is the perfectly logical conclusion and the other half watches that half thinking, because it doesn't have a clue anymore. but it's happy that the other half seems ok with it.
dreaming perfectly pleasant neutralized dreams of trying to match a rustish red and green long skirt when i found a tiny stripe of pink along the waist. my mother was worried it wouldn't match with anything (she didn't like it) but i was determined.
ah, the cool dreams of brain-settling automnn emerging.
that's all you really need.
august 15th 1998
The Roadside Fire
Robert Louis Stevenson
I will make you brooches and toys for your
wipe the monitor
messy things still in my head;
august 12th 1998
and me, what about me. i like flowers but i'd never
define myself that way. who am i.
thriving on acclaim, yes,
freedom comes quickly
now, the cool parts of august
these are surface words
what's in your core,
there's got to be a morning after.
murphy's law prevails.but you will say, Ramona and Roswell have been home for some time. yes this is true, but in another sense, they are always coming home, leaving, and coming again. we must watch them to know our true desires. guaging, defining, it's nice to have shallow water over the edge.they remind us that the deepest part is inside ourselves. what is the worst to be afraid of?
but things seem so definate, so often, when that is never the case.
guess what, the planet seems to finally have reacted as if there's not enough time. it has taught me that i cannot sit by a lake, or accept no plans, and this is wrong.
this will change.
so the bancha has warmed my belly and soul, my head still spins somewhat. busy day ahead; busier days still. away from here, a murphiesm- it's not the right time to go. and people say it every day.
singing in families, we still do it and it is wondrous, maybe my favorite thing. any song of yore in the plain octave above middle C, we can manage together - we three, with her to balance my rougher voice and he to improvise as we go.
that sun still creeps over the trees, still there. be still, poots heart. your time will come-as it is now, and always will be. allow the flow of what is liquid and recognize what is not. they sometimes mean what they say but sometimes they do not. allow this to be.
tomorrow never comes.
it's amazing how long it takes to reset my center, each time we remove it from stable. three months i would say, for each gear to be set back in place. we don't know how they know where to be rest, but i suppose that is why it takes the time it does. i'm still waiting for the second learning to occur, for now it still feels like a strugggle.
sometimes i'm reminded of what bill told me, spending too much time thinking about me, yet i know he does the same. but much of what people tell me indicates that i should spend more time on others. i know i should. perhaps not those directly surrounding me, but others, somewhere, whom i do not know.i know this to be true. i know i should find them. i know i'm wasting too much time. where are those others, someone tell me. i'll sit and i'll center and wait.
"i know i need to be in love
august 1st 1998
i have a new neighbor.
we learn we live
august 20th 1998
"i want to hold you now
we hold it all for a litte while don't
ooo ooo ooo oo oooooooo"
shades are drawn.
arch the back of the littlest poot; she bites her lip and focuses on what's inside.
a calmness comes like the undulating waves
that is what is inside, the rest merely icing in my brain.
i feel little urge to move. scant desire to
august 17th 1998
yawning this morning, a glance out the window tells me yes poots, it is still summer! this endless summer of ours, strung together by a hazy stint in another city to the far south.
and now as sirens encicle me,
let's pray for this week.
let's not talk about tv today.
i don't sound as opinionated as i used to, and you know what? i'm not. just a little bit of that Orwell effect and i'm just tryin' to survive.
my left wrist tells me i slept very very soundly. ow. i knew i would.
i should stretch.
august 14th 1998
"not counting the unmarked paths of
misdirection My compass, faith in love's perfection, I missed ten million
miles of road i should have seen"
awaking to today, no choice
to my own voice.
but i love my voice.
and the busy circles
and when asked
keeping my poking stick
sometimes, you just have
t o stand up for what you believe in.
straighten your back again, little one.
s t r e t c h
dreaming of my little
"and we sit here in our storms and
drink a toast to the slim chance of love's recovery rain soaked and voice
choked like silent screaming in a dream
Tell all the friends who think they're
swirling around remnants of a recent full
moon, things come together as they come apart.
and once again, my life goals, directions realign themselves although i cannot remember when they were the same, i know they were.
how many times do i have to relearn this?
i'm reminded of the freckle-faced engineer
from prud'homme street. did i think it would take 12 years for me to call
myself vegetarian.how many
i'm staring blankly as i chew my lip.
august 4th 1998
yes indeed they
i'd like to say some clearer thoughts
i'd like to shake your hand,
the photos will be organized,
the mEp gets some color,
things are found, one by each