I was borne from original sin.
Annie Lennox’s voice haunts. And rings true. And if I had a dollar bill
For all the things I’ve done
There’d be a mountain of money
Piled up to my chin…
Sometime last year, amidst a pile of xanax and dark clouds I crawled out from my cave of a bedroom and was driven down to a fun city to see my old fun friend. He took one look at me. And handed me a handle of tequila.
Much later. When I had stopped crying. And was silent, curled up in a ball in his bed. He remarked to someone. “She. She’s never been like this. She can do anything. Anything. Whatever she wants. I can’t even see this happening. It’s not right.”
And now it’s been a long, long while. It passed in a fluster of whizzing lights, skinny high heels and hair whirling. And also it whooshed by in the most frighteningly silent blur of nothingness. Where everything and nothing counted. And I finally feel more right than I’ve ever felt.
More alive and the most myself I’ve ever been.
I’ve been writing on this blog for nearly five years.
And it’s time to branch out. So, my dear ones. You can always find me over here. Or here.
Practicing my new art and self-expression.
“I’ve got a message for you that you better believe. believe. believe. believe. belie….”-Annie Lennox
some things are as old as… old folk songs. the idea that around every bend is a new beginning.
thank you for the moonlight and the ducks in the water and the rain drops and the pitter pat and the love and coffee and the morning light and squishie squishes.
There are so many ways to interpret the spinner that won’t actually spin anymore. a million reasons, about why or why not or how or when it stopped. spinning.
Maybe it just got bored and wanted to hop for awhile.
Who knows.
I just got my song back. It happened about 3 weeks ago, actually. But I thought it was a fluke.
An exceptionally strong moment.
But nope.
This:
This song belongs to me afterall.
It’s incredible, when you give a song away to someone in your mind, how much you miss that song, when the person leaves and takes the song with them. Iconic. Ironic. Supersonic. Gin’n'Tonic.
I was bopping down the freeway when a radio station played the song and I got up out of my seat and danced to it. For the first time in a long long loooong time. Danced. And then, just like that, Tribe Called Quest belonged to me again.
I just signed up to serve as a family portrait photographer at a homeless shelter here in Oakland. I’m bringing a Santa and an Elf with me.
I can remember living in an emergency shelter around the holidays many moons ago. My dad was terrorizing my mother and she took us where she felt we’d be safe. An anonymous battered women’s shelter. And it was a tough time to stay there during the holly, jolly holidays.
I remember being scared and sad.
So fortunate to face the holidays, these days, in a happy home with hundreds of friends and laughs and blessed moments. And my sacred inner sanctum family.
I thought I’d go help out the little kids here in my own backyard who maybe aren’t as fortunate this season. And maybe I can make everyone laugh for an hour or two and forget how sad and scared they are about their future. And maybe they’ll meet me and see thatanything, anything, anything is possible if you put your mind to it and believe in yourself.
Spread your love around, not your money, this holiday season.
I blame Trixie Belden.
She was a mystery solving heroine captured in books from 1948 to the mid-1980’s. My mother had read all the books and her stash of Belden mysteries remained on a bookshelf at my grandparents house. So when I stayed with Roy & Beverly every summer I’d swim in the pool, use their giant video camera to record myself doing headstands I’d learned in gymnastics and of course, laze about, reading books.
The summer I discovered Trixie Belden and her cute best friend Honey Wheeler, was the summer I tried to whistle like a bobcat. I hadn’t ever seen a bobcat before. I also didn’t know what crab apples were, but Trixe had crab apples in her yard and NOTHING IN THE WORLD DID I WANT MORE THAN CRAB APPLES IN MY YARD.
What’s funny, is that Trixie was a ball busting fearless little go getter. But it was Honey Wheeler, who was timid, constantly scared and very pretty that I admired most.
When I went to the Tenderloin in San Francisco my freshman year of high school to score a fake i.d. It was Honey’s name I used for my fake name. Not Trixie’s.
Nowadays I’d push Honey over and tell her to get the eff out of my way. I don’t have time for snivelers. But back when I was 7 or 8 years old …. man, Honey Wheeler was the shit.
Funny, but just imagining those old books. Their pages made of thick, aged paper. The cover a real work of art. I can just smell the book. Dusty old book from my mother’s girlhood. I wonder what happened to those old books. I’d love to find them . . .
him: “we can’t sneak in there. it’s closed to the public.”
me:“yes we can. pull up to the gate.”
him: sigh
me: squealing with excitement. then rolling down my window like a sedate matron with a 50 billion dollar trust fund.
me: “bullshit. blah blah blah bullshit. more bullshit.” smile. smile. smile. hair flip. smile. “bullshit bullshit bullshit” here’s my card.
guard:“Here are two tickets, mimi. Young man, drive to the top of the hill and park. They’ll escort you through Mr. Getty’s private art collection from there.”
Aaah, the week of giving thanks.
I am so grateful for so many things, people, experiences and places right now.
I am especially grateful for …
My mom and my family Thank you for always looking out for me, caring about me, calling me, listening.
Jason & Alicia Thank you for being eager in every endeavor and embracing all my ideas and wackadoodle plans.
Oakland Thank for the pretty lake to walk around, the fun coffee shops, the bars, the sunshine and the whole new life you offer me.
Laughter Thank you Universe for giving me so many opportunities to find humor.
Morning Thank you for giving me the time and glory each and every morning to sip coffee for as long as I like and organize my thoughts and workload.
Photography Thank you for this glorious hobby. It saves me again and again and offers up boundless creativity. Thank you to my Three Little Birds co-collaboraters Wynene and Liz for inspiring me to take the plunge.
Culinary Road Trippin’ Thank you to Jamie for making my project Sip Snap Savor a success. For taking time to move it forward. For all the efforts that go into planning a yearly road trip to capture families and their recipes. I enjoy this project, the adventures and energy that we generate so very, very much.
Inner Strength Thank you mom for training me to be a soldier in the game of life.
It’s the very best gift I’ve ever gotten.
And now, what are YOU grateful for this week of giving thanks?
It was just as the plane touched down that I realized I was done nesting with all of them. I’d sucked them dry of everything. Sometimes I’m a blood sucker. I feel bad about that. They’re nice people.
Maybe I was able to impart something back to them. I don’t know.
They gave me knowledge.
I took it and wallowed in it. That knowledge.
I’m tired of it all. I want the bigger world. I don’t want to be associated any longer with people I’ve been feeding off of. I want that for myself, more than I want anything else.
When I get home from this weekend I’m going to destroy my old nest and scatter the bits to the wind and go about making a new fresh nest full of amazing, dazzling, glittery bits.
The spiral landing spot is the idea of swinging full circle back to where you started, but one layer above where you were before. A little bit taller. Fuller. Back where you belong. At the beginning.
