On Saturday I bought the Ninja. I am very excited (no pictures yet sorry).
My mom is not excited at all.
Last night I dreamt about shoes. They were all too wide except the impractical yellow strappy sandals with a smoothly curved sole, slippery on any surface. I don't even like yellow. The sensible shoes were all so wide they wouldn't even stay on my feet. This can't be a good sign.
Later I dreamt a friend of mine had a party. I went wearing only some skimpy underwear and a thick and heavy chainlink skirt with a purple translucent pearlescent taffeta sash tied around over it. It was a hot outfit, but my leg muscles got sore from carrying around all that heavy chain. What this means, I don't know. But the escalators at the party location were collapsible and easily guarded.
I forgot to post on Wednesday.
Happy Thanksgiving. My contribution, Veuve Cliquot. Who doesn't like that for dessert?
Looking through some old folders I found this thing from I dunno, a year ago. I liked it, so thought I'd put it up.
I spent a year in a fugue. Thinking. If you asked me now what I thought about I couldnít tell you. Well, I could, but you wouldnít understand. Understand how I could spend a year on the same 6 pieces of information. Worrying them until they unraveled and became meaningless. Not realizing that misery wasnít the end result, but a means to nothing. Or maybe you know how it goes. How when youíre in it, itís all there is. No light at the end of the tunnel. You know the tunnel is limited, you know that someday youíll find your way out, youíre just not concerned with turning someday into now. Until you realize.
And one day I did. It was a Wednesday, and I was going to see some friends for dinner. Force myself out of the house into human company because someone told me that was supposed to help. I sat on the floor on my knees and put my head down and let some sobs escape. Thereís a harsh sound that comes from your throat when youíre wracked with emotions that donít make sense. Emotions youíve already had for days, weeks, months. You donít need them anymore but you donít know anything else. And itís a Wednesday, so you kneel on the floor and put your head down, hug yourself and cry. When youíre
done you clean up, put on makeup (no mascara) and go outside. You put on your hat and scarf and exit. Go to your friendís house and eat dinner as if nothing is wrong. Even they donít buy it. They know, but they feed you and let you be. They walk you home or not, whatever you want. But the problem is; nothing is what you want. And so you realize, and you make changes. You make it work and you make yourself clean. Force yourself down the tunnel into the light. Even if itís still dim, itís lighter. Easier to carry. Itís a relief but you donít feel the relief because thereís no point in worrying about it anymore. And one day you donít even carry it with you. Youíre free.
And then somebody loves you, and you exhale, just a little, and wait to see what goes wrong. What gets fucked up this time? When does it turn? But it doesnít turn. Somebody loves you and they turn down the bed for you. Somebody cares and they look at you and smile, make you coffee and wash your back. Somebody draws you a bath and puts you into bed and somebody hugs you and keeps you awake at night with their snores.
You tell yourself it isnít what you want, and itís not going to be. And then suddenly it is. Itís just what you want. A friend whoís more than a friend. Someone to talk to, sit with silently, and someone who you return nice favors in kind. Who it feels as good to give to as get from. But then there it is, the other shoe drops, and itís gone. Youíve already been through the tunnel so you donít go back, you just sit there in the dim light and wait for spring, knowing you could do more than wait, but not doing it.
Do you ever think you pull away more from the people you like the most? A defense mechanism. Stay away from spilling it all, make yourself not care, not want to tell. So much so that eventually, you think you donít like them so much anymore. How could you like them if you donít want to let them in? If you want to keep it all to yourself? Hide it away and fix it before anyone really sees it. Fight your way through your tunnels and prove you're worth it. Finally come through that tunnel, stand up tall, look around. And youíre alone with no one next to you. And where are they? It doesnít matter. Theyíve all gone.
But I signed up for the Motorcycle Training Course to take place in mid-December and I'm going to buy my friend's Ninja 250 this weekend.
Not that my mom could say much. My dad started riding motorcycles a few years ago. Granted he's 73 so you figure he's already got a long life should anyone plow into him... but you also gotta figure my reaction times are going to be quicker. Iíll also never forego gloves just because itís warm out, or ride off for a gallon of milk in my house slippers. But Iím crazy like that.
It's just that I've spent enough time on the back. For days at a time across Thailand and Cambodia (through mud puddles up to the seat and monsoon rains and asleep), around the City, down to the races, whatever. Iíve only been thinking about doing this for 6 or 7 years, so itís time to just go do it.
Maybe I should start doing more of the other things I want to be doing too. Hrm.
"Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking when I said..."
In my head for 3 days.
"Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It's a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity."
All the more reason to save yourself first.
Though there's nothing wrong with givng some of your equals a little humanitarian kick in the ass.
I got a book in the mail today from my one blog fan. I might as well just thank you directly: Hey blog fan Kev from Missouri, thanks for the book. My oldie boss already saw it on my desk and asked to read it when I'm through. Plus I was trying to slog through "The Land of Charm and Cruelty" (which is good, dont get me wrong) but just haven't had the concentration for non-fiction relating to socio-economics and stuff.
Anyway, thanks again k-dub.
Guys named Kevin are like the new black these days, I swear.
I lied, summer came back for a minute. It's too warm for a coat outside. Wtf, I say. Wtf.
Also, I'm still having fun almost all the time. What the hell is going on around here?
Variable group of symptoms occurring before menstruation in 40% of women, severe in about 10% of those.
Physical symptoms may include headache, cramps, bloating, and constipation or diarrhea. Emotional symptoms range from irritability, lethargy, and mood swings to hostility, confusion, and depression. Theories as to the cause centre on hormones, nutrition, and stress (known to affect severity). Depending on the symptoms, treatment may involve exercise, stress management, nutritional therapy, or drugs. Dietary measures include low sodium and high protein and complex carbohydrate intake and avoidance of xanthines (including caffeine). Increasing calcium intake has been shown to prevent or reduce cramps, which are best treated with ibuprofen.
It's winter again in San Francisco. Time to get out the heavy blankets.
This weekend, in the midst of it, I thought I was having too much fun. Every time disappointment started to creep in, more fun came along instead. Shows and parties, costumes, people, and the adventure of falling asleep in strange places, once on a floor, in seldom visited neighborhoods. My only concern was a tiny nagging voice somewhere in the back of my head trying to tell me that itís somehow inappropriate not to act my age.
I found the little voice, and I killed it.
Of course now that the weekend is over, Iím cranky and today is a craphole of a day, but I can console myself with the fact that Iím younger now than I was when I was younger. Which doesnít make any senseÖ but is a lot more fun.
Plus, now I can do whatever I want.
250,000 people come within 4 blocks of my neighborhood to gawk and grabass. I meant to go walk around and come home early. I failed. I did manage to avoid the flask of Southern Comfort (and who wouldnít avoid it), but I failed to avoid a bar full of beer and costumed revelers. Is there anything better than overly friendly costumed revelers, 3 out of 5 guys in drag, girls in skimpy outfits, group clothing irony, all with a slimy coating of beer, and softened by a hazy filter of cigarette smoke?