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Nov. 22nd, 2006
reading the past i have to remember
Nov. 22nd, 2006 03:38 amDon't return to a source that doesn't want you there.
(no subject)
Nov. 22nd, 2006 02:32 pmmr_heathen asked about home. this is what i said.
it's been flipping around for me lately. the definition of home. i am starting to think it isn't where the heart is - but where it isn't. home has become about longing and nostalgia and the sort of rose colored glasses - remembering only the good parts that whatever home i am living in at the moment could never live up to.
home in michigan right now smells cold and brown and wet. rainy with the ground soaking up the wet just in time to freeze extra hard. nothing feels soft. feet crunch on every surface, the wind and air push back hard against your skin when you walk outside, and the trees have given up the last of their colorful affectations and just reach up to the sky waiting to hold bushels of snow.
home in san francisco is nights lost to a smoky apartment in berkely hiding behind whiskey bottles. home is a musty apartment in the western addition with dark windows and bright paint in the kitchen. it living with cat hair tumbleweeds in a huge flat across from the lexington where we would turn out the lights and open the windows. because you can heard street noises better in the dark and there was always drama outside of the bar. it is living off of haight street and trying not to deck the tourists that walk too slow when i am just trying to get the groceries home. it's living in the sunset, on the one corner where the fog doesn't block the ocean. where even when it's overcast the house feels bright with daytime because there are so many windows and it takes no work at all to feel like i have lived here forever.
and tomorrow. home will feel like the warm houses that i go to. where everyone has their own personalities that will cross over and interlap and mix up with everyone elses. and we will share food and stories and love and cranky. it will be rushed and madhouse and relaxing and family.
come friday - i will find the nostalgia about all of these things and then they will be home.
it's been flipping around for me lately. the definition of home. i am starting to think it isn't where the heart is - but where it isn't. home has become about longing and nostalgia and the sort of rose colored glasses - remembering only the good parts that whatever home i am living in at the moment could never live up to.
home in michigan right now smells cold and brown and wet. rainy with the ground soaking up the wet just in time to freeze extra hard. nothing feels soft. feet crunch on every surface, the wind and air push back hard against your skin when you walk outside, and the trees have given up the last of their colorful affectations and just reach up to the sky waiting to hold bushels of snow.
home in san francisco is nights lost to a smoky apartment in berkely hiding behind whiskey bottles. home is a musty apartment in the western addition with dark windows and bright paint in the kitchen. it living with cat hair tumbleweeds in a huge flat across from the lexington where we would turn out the lights and open the windows. because you can heard street noises better in the dark and there was always drama outside of the bar. it is living off of haight street and trying not to deck the tourists that walk too slow when i am just trying to get the groceries home. it's living in the sunset, on the one corner where the fog doesn't block the ocean. where even when it's overcast the house feels bright with daytime because there are so many windows and it takes no work at all to feel like i have lived here forever.
and tomorrow. home will feel like the warm houses that i go to. where everyone has their own personalities that will cross over and interlap and mix up with everyone elses. and we will share food and stories and love and cranky. it will be rushed and madhouse and relaxing and family.
come friday - i will find the nostalgia about all of these things and then they will be home.
judi sent me leaves
Nov. 22nd, 2006 04:39 pmso i got a box in the mail a week or two ago
full of leaves with instructions create my own piles of leaves to roll around in
evidence follows
full set over at flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/emchy/sets/72157594387642225/
full of leaves with instructions create my own piles of leaves to roll around in
evidence follows
full set over at flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/emchy/sets/72157594387642225/
comment whore answers part one
Nov. 22nd, 2006 05:39 pmhere are the answers only to the SUPER SEEKRIT questions... wanna ask one? just go here: http://cindymonkey.livejournal.com/652716.html
1.wake up early. get handed a coffee. put on jeans and my old cure teeshirt. drive to breakfast someplace that has those hashbrowns where the potatoes are shredded crispy and buttery. then drive to a really good record store. its a bit of a drive to get there and i have judi and rooster and some other chosen people in the car. i am both smoking and not smoking at the same time. the air is crisp like late october and the sun is warm making the light all fresh. i have enough money to buy two records. one import and one used. they are both rare records that i have been looking for for a long time. on the drive back we stop and explore an abandoned institution. the kind with gorgeous old architecture falling apart and tunnels to explore. graffiti and poetry on the walls to read. i find a stage to sit on and write for a while. then we drive to get coffee and walk around downtown. sit in a nearby park. talk about art and dreams and love and drama. there is a lot of laughing. then we go to the quirky homey restaurant. we get good food. we go after to see a late afternoon movie. we drive back in the night, talking about the movie. i get home and go for a long walk with the lucky dog and rooster in the moonlight. it's bright enough that stern grove is pale and bright. we play outside, smelling the eucalyptus and ocean air. then we get home. some folks stop by unexpectedly to play cards. i open some beer and wine. we all get rowdy. everyone wins at least one game. there is a lot of laughing. it gets late. people stay over and we all talk late into the night. in the morning, i make us all breakfast.
2. poetry.
3. life is beautiful - the film by bengnini. because of the purity of the love one person can have for another.
4. the describing of smells. it can bring and make magic that people forgot to see. um and apparently - pictures of me in a kitchen covered in leaves. i am getting the impression i bring that in too.
5. fail better by samuel beckett. because i forget that i can fail better. and i get chills when reminded.
1.wake up early. get handed a coffee. put on jeans and my old cure teeshirt. drive to breakfast someplace that has those hashbrowns where the potatoes are shredded crispy and buttery. then drive to a really good record store. its a bit of a drive to get there and i have judi and rooster and some other chosen people in the car. i am both smoking and not smoking at the same time. the air is crisp like late october and the sun is warm making the light all fresh. i have enough money to buy two records. one import and one used. they are both rare records that i have been looking for for a long time. on the drive back we stop and explore an abandoned institution. the kind with gorgeous old architecture falling apart and tunnels to explore. graffiti and poetry on the walls to read. i find a stage to sit on and write for a while. then we drive to get coffee and walk around downtown. sit in a nearby park. talk about art and dreams and love and drama. there is a lot of laughing. then we go to the quirky homey restaurant. we get good food. we go after to see a late afternoon movie. we drive back in the night, talking about the movie. i get home and go for a long walk with the lucky dog and rooster in the moonlight. it's bright enough that stern grove is pale and bright. we play outside, smelling the eucalyptus and ocean air. then we get home. some folks stop by unexpectedly to play cards. i open some beer and wine. we all get rowdy. everyone wins at least one game. there is a lot of laughing. it gets late. people stay over and we all talk late into the night. in the morning, i make us all breakfast.
2. poetry.
3. life is beautiful - the film by bengnini. because of the purity of the love one person can have for another.
4. the describing of smells. it can bring and make magic that people forgot to see. um and apparently - pictures of me in a kitchen covered in leaves. i am getting the impression i bring that in too.
5. fail better by samuel beckett. because i forget that i can fail better. and i get chills when reminded.