Thursday, April 27, 2006

A matter of time

The first butterfly of Spring stops its flittering and rests on a bush, allowing me to get really close and take a few snaps.
Satisfied, I silently thank it, and he flies away.

The big knat is looking at me from the other side of the window. I wonder if they have homes to go to, or if nothing is ever familiar. And I wonder how that must feel, and if it makes them anxious. Despite the yoga I feel a lot of anxiety these days.
There is a big man of the wilderness sitting in the row adjacent to me. Piercing blue eyes, but other than that, all overgrown beard and massive bushy hair. I think of my good friend Lance and smile for the first time today.

Listening to Love song for no one by John Mayer
Can't stop listening to Naïve by the Kooks

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

surfacing


Spring is coming, the air is quite chill but the days are much brighter. I am remembering. Sitting here, waiting for my car to be finished, too early in the morning for me, I think to myself that I probably had a more active social life at 11 years old than I do now. I recall going to a Grandmaster flash and the furious five concert at that age, with my sister and her friends. I was the smallest person there, watching in amazement as Melle Mel and his band stomped across the stage in their finery of fur pellets and leathers, boots and feathers. The swell of the crowd pulled me in, and I was pulled out again. This was a new world to me. He threw his sweat covered towel into the audience and sticking my pre-adolescent hand in the air, I caught it. At least, I choose to remember it that way. I think it was more likely a lucky upwind.
I preserved that towel, with its dried famous-person perspiration, in a
clear plastic bag. Later, my mother washed and laundered it, folded it
in my drawer, and it become just...a towel. And a memory.

In the room at the gym, there are mirrors along 2 sides of the wall. I have flashdance fantasies of doing solo dance routines, spinning around and around, perfecting my routine that would almost certainly win me the contest, and free me from my job on the building site. Haha. Unfortunately, only basic rhythm made it into my gene pool.

Early start tomorrow..i was called to assist Georgina Graham on the Toni and Guy campaign. In my mind i am running in circles with my arms out, like an airplane, giddy with possibilities. Light-headed with hope.

Listening to Peaches by the Stranglers
and Sugar by Armand van helden, over and over

Saturday, April 01, 2006

slipping under

I don't remember ever feeling this sad before. Its like all past
sadnesses have accumulated and now attach themselves to my wrists and ankles
like weights. The yoga teacher gently pushes my shoulders into the ground and tells me I'm carrying burdens and worries around with me. My 7 year old nephew leans his little body into me, completely unaware that he is throwing me a lifeline. I am drowning, it seems. I'm not going to write for a while, not until I feel better. It could be days, or maybe weeks. But I will not journal this apparent descent, only the upturn of
the tide, when I finally start to swim again.