Summertime

Today, the first day of summer, we had a memorial for the president of my company. He died. Some people in the industry spoke. Others played musical pieces they had written just for the occassion. A month has passed since the wake, so it was different than grieving. We were in a dark place - all of us - knowing the sun was beating down hard and heavy like a drum. But - all of us - wanting to risk going outside. Listed on the program was an executive and the widow. She stood there in silence as he began to play the first notes of jazz. Her voice was shaken. At times I thought she wouldn't make it all the way through...

One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky

Livin' ain't so easy sometimes.

Sex Without Love

Sex Without Love
Sharon Olds (1942- )

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health--just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stay silent for all of June. I’m in love and I want to shout it out from the mountain tops! How would I get up there you ask? With my new love, the Lava Dome. It’s only the coolest, chromoly (steel), purple (almost violet blue), Kona mountain bike ever. It was so much fun test riding it around Sayville. One of the boys at the shop even took me on a mini trail just so I could really feel the weight and choose the best frame size. There was no question that I needed the 14, which is pretty damn small. In fact, if you put some training wheels, a bell, and tassels on the handle bars, I’d look like a 7 year old. No worries though. I plan on making it to the top of a mountain with or without the frills and the training.

I ordered my Lava Dome yesterday and will pick it up next week!

Silent in June

I promised myself that in June I'd revamp my "space" with colors, a picture of happier times, and a song for a project I'm working on. I did it. I met the first part of my goal and so far I've gotten a nice response. I'm not sure if people are just being kind, but it doesn't really matter right now. I'm happy I was able to overcome whatever was keeping me silent.

On a Date

I'm on a date with a man, who I can't for the life of me understand. We are polar opposites, but I agreed to meet him again. Connections are important and I am still hopeful. The problem is I might as well be alone. Here we are. I'm typing this while he reads and I wait... for him to go home.

May Leaves

I feel the tension fading steadily.
And the sadness sets in like a curled
Leaf resting on my cheek. I twirl
It from the stem and pray for trees.
Make them dance for me –
Let it rain leaves.

My Poseidon Adventure

Since the trailer for “Poseidon” (2006) was unleashed, I’ve been having this recurring dream. A giant wave that looks like a sculpture under the moon strikes. I drown in darkness. Oh, and there are sharks surrounding me, too. Then I wake up mistaking my sweat for saltwater, so for a second I’m thinking, “That was no boating accident!” First of all, what the f*ck am I doing doggie paddling in the middle of the ocean? No lifejacket. No flippers. No oxygen tank. No fins. No capsized ship. No icebergs. No floating trunks that I can hop on. Anyway, I haven't had the "wave/shark dream" since I was little. Thanks Richard Dreyfuss (again).

Case of the Missing Tree

I am on a mission. I must recover the trees. They’ve gone missing in my neighborhood. It’s my number one pet peeve…. Yes, I’ve got a long list of them (honestly, I wouldn’t be a New Yorker if it wasn’t long). Trees are being chopped down as if we all lived in some forest. I’ve been given many possible reasons from the NYC Department of Parks and Recreation, Forestry Division. They tell me it could be disease, beetle nesting, obstruction, improper growth, etc… Something tells me they don’t really know. Instead of these cats extracting the root, they chop them at the limb. Most inhumane. I stand in front of a stump on my block sometimes to inspect what’s left. A solid mass of patterns, rings, and memories. The root claws into a patch of dirt and concrete as if it had felt the pain of her execution. Cold bloody murderers! Yet, those very same claws were lifelines once. What’s worse is that the tree has not been replaced, which was supposed to happen in March/April – tree planting season, thereby allowing it to regenerate and all other living things. The Department asked me to call back in August after they've conducted an investigation or as they call it, “a survey.” Hopefully, a new tree will be planted soon. I asked if they could check out 8 other stumps I found around the way, but was told that I can only report one. One tree on the block of a neighborhood in a careless city full of missing trees. There’s something wrong with this system, but I'll find a way around it. I’ll never stop until I make things right, kid. That’s my mission

(light up cigarette, pull fedora down, lift collar up, cross my street, and fade to black).

9 Years

the president of my company died today. he had been battling lukemia for 9 years and came to work like the rest of us. only a select few knew about the illness. i suspect he preferred living a normal life over pity. the vp called everyone into the cafeteria at 4:30pm and made an announcement. it was weird watching the most intimidating man, more so than was the deceased, break. the controller broke and so did the director of human resources. next were the marketing and accounting managers. the web designer and purchasing agent followed. i didn't know our president. in fact, i'm not sure anyone did. he only spoke to a select few. my brief encounters with him were in the hallway and i didn't really exist there. i've been working at this place for 9 years, so it's fair to say he had other, more important, things on his mind.

when i left my company, i walked into rain. just the right amount of rain with the kind of gray skies that bear a hint of the future.

A Day Off

I didn't go to work. Instead, I went to school on a day that the sun, though not visible, tormented. My goal was to start my research paper. There was no shade around so I parked my car under a blinding, flourescent, yellowish-white patch of nothing else. I finished "Passing," by Nella Larsen, then drove off in search of a tree. Once I found it I felt quenched. I sat for a while to watch young students passing by. I wasn't quite ready to make that transformation.

Later, I walked into the cafeteria and blended in. It must have been the Pumas, bookbag, and water bottle. Either way, I knew I was one of the oldest. A 20-something year old passed me in a Misfits t-shirt with a smirk on his face. It reminded me of those days when I thought I knew everything. He went back to his corner where the other gothic/punk rockers wore black. They were probably tormented, too.

Right now I'm in a computer lab. The blinds are closed to keep all the machines from overheating. I wonder when this heat wave will pass, so I can go home.

Weekend Rain

I was angry Friday night. I cried until it actually rained outside. It hasn’t stopped. First drizzle, then plain rain. Afterwards a downpour. Now it’s giant droplets that keep banging sporadically against my air conditioner. Loud as guns. The cars drive by in waves washing away dirty streets. Maybe I can stick my feet out of the window and wait for the coming tide. That could be a relief until Monday's weather.

My Neighbor

My neighbor came over to say hello. Me being the industrious gal that I am I asked him to help me lift up my mattress in order to place a freshly washed bedskirt on the boxspring. It's such a waste of time anyway because I have hardwood floors and the dustballs form in a matter of seconds after I sweep. They manage to cling on to the cotton, so I have to wash the darn thing all over again. But if I don't have a bedskirt, you'll be able to see the boogie-dust monster underneath and he likes his privacy. Now this neighbor of mine tends to drop by unannounced, which is probably not proper etiquette for a gentleman trying to impress a lady. Maybe I'm no lady... I just assume all men try to impress (anything in a [bed]skirt) as best they can, so of course he complied with my request. We are both standing against the wall of the bedroom/living room that is a complete mess thanks to my bright idea of Spring cleaning on NY's first gorgeous weekend. I straighten out the sheet. Then he grabs my arm and kisses me on the cheek. Really he was shooting for my lips...twice! You can imagine the shock. I took a wild guess and asked in between giggles, "I thought you were seeing someone?" Much to my surprise he responded, "I am." What the ^&*%(!? He apologized about 7 times before he left my apartment. Did I give him some kind of signal that says, hey I'd like someone with a girlfriend (of 4 years!) to f*** me tonight?" Jeeez. Maybe he's no gentleman...

D-n-B

If we are all but
dreams
and bones,
then why must
an awakening
break them
both?

Drifting

Lately I find myself drifting from dream state to altered states to reality to reality television to driving long distances to daydreaming to fighting sleep to crunching numbers to falling in love to falling out of love to finding past loves to avoiding the future to sunsets to moon gazing to outer space to my-very-own-space to blogging or just reading what writers won’t say to struggling with words to drifting like a piece of broken wood that was once a sailboat on a windless sea.

V

"Remember, remember, the fifth of November,
The gunpowder treason and plot.
I know of no reason why the gunpowder
treason should ever be forgot." - V

I need to learn how to throw knives.

We’ve Got the Jazzzzzzzz

I think I've got the jazz. Though, I always appreciated its smooth, complex sound; the way it coats a soul with ease and pizzazz and all the blues of spirits so profound, it was far and away. Oh but I'm slowly coming around. I feel connected in this newness as if I had been crooning all along. The players from the past speak to me. So much so, that recently, I was compelled to answer back. I did something wild. I formed a jazz quartet and – we’ve all got it now. The group wants to explore and expand on this art form. They want to be decent and honor the greats. Me? I just want to understand, not only the sound, but what is behind or underneath. The blueprints - to keep getting it for a while.

"We've got the jazz, we've got the jazz, we've got the jazz, we've got the jazz, we've got the jazz, we've got the jazz, we've got the jazz" - A Tribe Called Quest (1995 album A Low End Theory)

A Model Confession

While I'm engrossed in the silly catfights and self-important tirades of a Misssszz Tyra wanna-be-Oprah Banks on a certain model "reality" show, a lot of awkward insecurities settle in between commercials. Why couldn't I have luscious lips or dreamy blue eyes? Why couldn't I have naturally tanned, flawless skin or striking cheekbones? Why couldn't I have long, lean legs or flowing, fluid locks? Why can't I get paid to travel, pose, wear fabulous clothes that cost more than my car, drink, chain smoke, date rockers & actors, totally drop my last name, quit eating, get caught snorting coke & still have a career?! Maybe it sounds glamorous, but beautiful? I wonder why those silly thoughts ever enter any woman's mind. There has to be more to "the struggle" than aesthetics. Not that it's impossible for model-wannabees to worry about deeper issues. I also don't want to imply that I don't care about looking my best every damn day. But, these girls are so lost in ego, airtime, fame. They think little of anything else... or so it seems and this attitude extends outside of the fashion industry. There is a Look-at-ME generation brewing. After an episode, I usually come to the same conclusion. I got other sh*t to worry about on "the inside." Now that's a tricky business because there's a lot of work to be done there. It's a different kind of "beautiful" I'm aiming for, I suppose. One that will hopefully matter long after that show is cancelled.

The B&M Theory

My old friend "Mark" and I came up with this theory today...

Men are focused when they're young because all they want is to have sex. The mission is clear. Get laid - Next, please. Now what they do to achieve this goal is how they play the game. And oh what a dirty game it is. When they get older, the mission gets a little fuzzy. Why? Because they realize they're getting too old. It's time to think about settling down, but they don't want to lose their freedom. So the game is peppered with some genuine confusion and more sex. A battle brews within. To commit or not to commit. "Argh, I need a beer...and more sex."

For women it's ass backwards. When they're young they are soooo confused. "I want to have fun. No I don't, I want a boyfriend. I want to get married. No I don't, I just want to sleep with you and have my independence, but love me and only me. I'm cool. I'm afraid. I'm in love after a week." They tell men they can handle anything, but ultimately, sex = love. End of story. There's no separating the two. Now when women get older, they know what's up. They know what they want. There is no time for games. So they start playing the game. Lie, manipulate, even watch sports on Sunday just to get that damn ring. And yes, sex still = love.

This is stuff you already know and doesn't necessarily apply to everyone. "Mark" and I just had fun talking about men versus women and vice versa (that wasn't too confusing). It was also fun thinking we were cool because we called it "a theory." Lastly, it's purely based on our own observations and experiences.

We hooked up once. See if you can guess what that means and how it turned out...

Don't Hate the Player

Attention all males in your thirties. I need to know. Why are you still playing games? This question I pose is not an angry one or inspired by such. Although, just between you, me, and the lamppost, I have been known to express frustration by spontaneously overflowing with powerful emotion (thank you Mr. Wordsworth) after a heartbreak. Seriously, can anyone tell me what the deal is about dating? The old enough guys are so anxious and confused. Ay-ya-yay. I’ve been talking to someone, who I think is interested. It’s sad that I have to use the word “think” even though he practically molested me 2 weeks ago. This incredibly passionate kiss I received threw me for a loop. It was delicious, but probably not meant to have deeper meaning. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's unsure about getting involved. Last night I got the “I’m checking in” phone call. He nonchalantly mentioned some past relationships (as a warning to me of what not to do), let me know that he was “taking it easy” (from now on), name-dropped some girl-friends (or girlfriends, who the hell knows), asked me what I was doing this weekend (he wants to see me), etc... The game was cute for about a minute. Mostly it was tiresome. What is so scary about getting to know one good woman?! Maybe I'll just concentrate on the kiss. There, done.

Dancing Fools

What is it about the rhythms and melodies of a good house track or flamenco piece that enlightens and moves? I'm alive when I'm dancing. It's as fullfilling as reaching the peak of a mountain in Colorado or Austria or Nepal. Ok maybe not, but certainly there's a sense of liberation. Exhiliration. Butterflies. Take my parents for instance. They are pretty devoted to each other. Since they began ballroom dancing, however, something changed. It happens every time there hands touch. I can see it... they soar. Though their dance is to a different rhythm with a very different melody, I'm sure they feel much like I do when I just can't stop. It's love, baby, love.