It's official. I want to meet Jack White.

Five Leaves Left

I heard the haunting voice of Nick Drake today singing with his guitar over the speakers in a Cafe while I started to write a screenplay.

my gypsy heart

Took a drive in the dirty rain
To a place where the wind calls your name

Going on a date

Paying my dues

It seems to happen often during this season -- car issues, expensive repairs, etc. Last year I certainly paid my dues. Sure enough, this week my furnace breaks and I get a flat tire on my car and have discovered my car is going through oil too. Sometimes being a grown up, especially one who is completely on her own in the middle of winter, sucks ass.

But I am the independent woman in my life who can handle it and take on anything so universe, have some more challenges for me? BRING IT. I will rise above.

If I could, you know I would

If I could, through myself, set your spirit free

frost on my windows but a warm heart inside

It's probably about time for this girl to write a gratitude list. Oh, and to get into the Christmas spirit. Yeah...true that. I'd be OK without a white Christmas though seeing as how I have to shovel or snow blow. Yuck.

You played it to the beat

Great new song! Definitely a chick tune.

We could have had it all...
Rolling in the Deep
Your had my heart...Inside of your hand
And you played it...to the beat (Rolling in the deep)

Not your flower

Must quote something I heard recently: "If you're not prepared to risk the thorn, then you don't deserve the rose."

the rose of the day

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

ee cummings

"Happiness is the longing for repetition."
— Milan Kundera

Poem for a fall day

Lincoln Park ménage,
legends like these leaving
laceration on my sentiment
like a lucid lover.

Confines of a bus window cannot
steal away this presence on the brain.
Intimacy resided here,
leaving traces of brilliant affect.

Stately porches among climbing oaks
and sugar maple, wrap my ethos
like a tenderly knitted shawl. Leaves,

like dancing suede-like vestiges,
golden cinnamon, butterscotch topaz,
glowing copper ruby,
croon in high-pitched song along frigid sidewalks.

Grazing the earth like bohemians, they carry
onwards to numerous rows of old white houses
and brownstones. Angry wind

scours the crumbling pavement as
sunlight fades to amber lamps.
Dwelling now in my own deeply felt history and
coming of age, the backpack is
heavy as I journey toward
the brighter truth.
Veracity: I embrace you,
as one holds a fresh day in their heart.

Pillow thoughts

Love is a dream that keeps waking me in the indigo twilight, nudging me to strive for the real thing. It kisses the side of my face and whispers that it really exists in a world of excess and deceit. The possibilities are leading me to an auspicious morning sun.

Simple things you wanted to know

I watch the sun,
as it touches you while you sleep
You gave me something,
that I wanted to keep

I see you smile like a little child
And hold you crying when it all goes wild

Oh
We could feel this way forever

-Moby

Love is a friendship set to music.
- Joseph Campbell

Letting go of worry

45% of things that people worry about, never happen

To let it go and finally relax, I have to say: I know not what things may come my way, but I will change it where I can and accept it where I can't.

Great movie line

video clip from Julie and Julia

To be the butter to one's bread and the breath of one's life (line from the movie Julie and Julia)...if only to be that lucky one day

New tune by Arcade Fire

Ready to start

Businessmen drink my blood
Like the kids in art school said they would
And I guess I'll just begin again
You say can we still be friends

If I was scared, I would
And if I was bored, you know I would
And if I was yours, but I'm not ...

...I would rather be wrong
Than live in the shadows of your song
My mind is open wide
And now I'm ready to start

Summer sunset - Nagawicka

Wet roads in the streetlights

The rain and the lightening cause my mind to build roads that lead to my creative, storytelling self and tomorrow I arrive...once again.

I open the door, bearing gifts of spirits and sustenance.

Why

We love because it's the only true adventure

--Nikki Giovanni

Real or only in fairytales?

It's storming tonight and I am reminded of a story that took place in Spain. Once upon a time - boy meets girl, boy woos girl with charisma, charm and kindness. They steal kisses when no one is looking and they get caught in the rain in a seaside town. They get caught up, period. Their room overlooks the sea and there in the blue-white light of lightening, they find paradise only within eachother's universe.

I can concoct such a story in my mind and on paper -- but, could it ever be real? Does it really truly exist?

Dreaming of getting away

Hugging a lost soul

Sometimes, when I'm bored, I find it fun and interesting to read the posts on grouphug.us

These people are confessing their thoughts anonymously online. The idea is to give these sad people an online hug somehow.

I suppose I am feeding that inquisitive writer in me with reading them. I have a natural curiosity when it comes to matters of the heart and the human condition.

Tonight I read this one: Im fine with being alone, im not fine without you.
I need you, I love you, I want you to come for me.
please

and I seriously wanted to give the person a hug

Morning music drive into work today

Sunday morning rain is falling
Steal some covers share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
But things just get so crazy
living life gets hard to do
And I would gladly hit the road get up and go if I knew
That someday it would lead me back to you
That someday it would lead me back to you

For you...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0B5tBJXT_c8

The truest of loves is between parent and child.

acceptance and vulnerability

I'm learning about people. The blinders are off and I can see their inner strength and level of commitment to themselves, others and me. Some are really there. Some are not. Speaking of strength, I wonder what it will be like for me to relinquish a little for love. I think about when I meet that special person one day with whom I can be truly vulnerable. I wonder and contemplate how marvelous it will feel.

Smelling the fresh green space

Today I spent time in the plush greenery of an urban ecology center near a rushing river, pulling mustard plants and taking in the serenity. As the rain began to fall and thunder roared above me, I appreciated the timing of this day with the monumental change about to take place in my life. Pulling the weeds makes room for new growth, new beauty, or simply creates open space to breathe easier. And I thought, "these little moments have such amazing timing."

I want to be

There was a dark shadow
hanging over me
an ominous atmosphere
like noir during a full moon eclipse
dark, bold, urgent
but it's clearing and
blue sky is on the horizon
I am letting in your light
creative dream wish with
soft voice
the one that says I am enough, special
the one that some how says
everything
will be all right

cold cold water...bring me round (Strawberry Swing, Coldplay)

craving to dance

Mmmm this song makes me want to

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkJQ3m6uilc

Click on the link above, just be sure to pause my music player on this blog first!

sketch of a marriage

The following was first written in February 2004. Hard to imagine it took me so long...

With you, I was longing for that sincere, unwavering union
the envied kind
that people think they see in us
eternal, like the Methuselah tree
A light of love that brings radiance
to a past of
muted colors and bleeding rawness

I longed for something of gravity
densely sacrosanct, stirring in subtle but
palpable hints of esteem, like in
old married couples who still hold hands
One that is safe and tender
One that doesn’t injure
or breathe insult
or deem incessant, recurrent apology
or provoke my fancy for flight

This must exist somewhere beyond my
Imagination.
Somewhere outside our circle of
ambiguity and turmoil
Could I be laudable of
moments that live inside the mind?
Serenity, light, harmony
worthy of time-capsule jewels
trillions of hourglass calm
in real time, for a lifetime
or is it just beyond my horizon?

-- JR February 7, 2004

grateful working girl

Today I am feeling grateful and light. After talking to friends last night, one of which who lost her job, I just feel fortunate and lucky to have a good work situation. It wasn't always like that and I do understand the feeling of being laid off and the pressure of having to find something new -- and that happened to me as a single parent.

I say a little prayer for my friends who are looking for jobs and I hope for them not just a new job but a better one!

I got news...you never got to go old

Although I am under the weather this week with a cold, I am getting more and more excited for the HOT summer and what music it will bring. Summerfest is on my brain and plenty of other outdoor shows.

After jammin out to the classic "Stranglehold" I just learned yesterday that Ted Nugent is headlining at Waukesha County Fair this year and I think I'm going to have to see him. Rock bluesy guitar like that is getting more rare and precious. Yes, I am still the rocker girl and probably always will be.

He shows up again

Hey music lovers - I am so stoked!

A very cool friend has brought it to my attention that there is a brand new CD out of previously unreleased studio work by Jimi Hendrix, called Valleys of Neptune. It features 12 studio recordings totaling over 60 minutes of unheard Jimi Hendrix.

According to its description, 10 of these recordings were made between February and May, 1969, as the Jimi Hendrix Experience set out to create the sequel to their groundbreaking 1968 double-album Electric Ladyland. The album features “Valleys Of Neptune,” one of the most sought after of all of Hendrix’s commercially unavailable recordings, and includes exciting 1969 arrangements of the classic signature songs “Red House,” “Fire,” and “Stone Free.”

It also includes unheard studio versions of Hendrix’s inspired interpretations of “Bleeding Heart” (Elmore James) and Cream’s “Sunshine Of Your Love.”

It seems that Hendrix often comes to the foreground of my days and nights when my life is in cool transition - and this instance is no exception.

Check it out
http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/valleys-of-neptune/id353361184

Student of life lecturing herself

As I learn lessons of the heart in this life, one thing always rings loud and true to me: Life is short. Unfortunately, I am finding that out more and more as beautiful people I know and love are facing things that challenge their existence on this earth. I write this with tears in my eyes.

Since life is short and finite, we must: do the things that make us happy, let our hearts sing and feel the way they want to (free of guilt), take hate and anger out of our lives and vocabulary, tell the people we love how we feel about them (you don't know if you will see them again) and always try to be our authentic selves.

Note to self: I will keep reminding myself to do these things and to keep the tears at bay.

and more discoveries at daybreak

Sometimes one must lose things and feel lost to discover new pieces of themselves. And sometimes, it's rediscovery - kinda like the experience of finding favorite pieces of candy in your pocket you had forgotten about.

Night time discoveries

Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks" painted in 1942.

“Sometimes I get this Whitmanesque vision of America. But instead of wheat fields and mighty cities and deep lakes stretching from sea to sea, I imagine a vast number of coffee shops. And in these coffee shops, urgent conversations are taking place. Here’s Mickey Rourke in Baltimore, talking Kevin Bacon in “Diner.” And Quentin Tarantino, on Santa Monica Boulevard, writing down ideas for “Pulp Fiction.” And Andy Garcia, in Denver, rehearsing for “Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead.” And Pacino and De Niro, out near the LA airport, acting in their first scene together in “Heat.”

The new American frontier is the all-night diner, with Formica tops and ketchup and sugar on every table, and a waitress who writes down your order on a green and white Guest Check. And in these coffee shops, which reach out like an endless progression of stops on the highway to fame, there are countless young men…” – Roger Ebert, adapted from his 1996 review of Swingers.

Sometime in March

You,
with
a voice like no other
deep eyes bravely
fronting the throes
windows - like mirror
and those copious distractions
the flood of disruptions
to your dreaming tree
that which never drown
the pesky roots properly
while in the perpetual waiting
alone and caught in the
loudness crowd,
to me,
stand out.

Altering the state of mind

Today brings sunshine to my kitchen - the kind that I don't ever take for granted.

Rich coffee, warm buttered toast, sweet strawberries, and apple muffins for my kids in the oven. Life is good. I'm healthy. My kids are healthy. I have love all around me.

Yes, I could reflect on the fact that someone I used to know didn't recognize my birthday -- remaining quiet and aloof, which is so telling. Yes I could ponder all of the obstacles I face and the chagrins that baffle and sting. But no, not today and not tomorrow either. I shake off the notions of confusion and rise above the discontent.

This life is an adventure and I feel alive with emotion.

Besides my least favorite job of lawn work, I will have lunch with someone, then get on my bike today, take some photos and feel the wind on my face and sun in my hair. And the night...hmmm who knows what will present itself. I like just wondering about it. On my way, I will keep my eyes and mind wide open.

Girl Soldier of the Night

When I was only eight they came,

a woman in silk thread, reeking

of promise, and a man

of gold cross, one would trust.

“1000 baht for her” they said,

declaring tales of good,

plenty, prosperity,

currency of my people.

Apprised of our peasantry,

they came for me,

bearing bread and smiles

and whispers of plenty.

Empty-bellied Mama,

heeded with no resistance,

desiring life for her daughter,

her only crime.

And so into the night I went,

babydoll brave heart,

curled inside child’s fancy,

ripe for the promised land.

Plunged into battle of wrong,

a foul market of debauchery,

I become warrior,

to unrelenting demons.

Beasts without souls,

daring to rob mine,

but buried deep from thieves,

my feminine honor lives.

Dawn shatters the spell,

a temporary refuge,

for young hearts plenty,

praying for liberation.

We are the blood-red sea of tiny, girl soldiers.

Don't stop believing

Don't stop believing, hold onto the feeling, streetlights people

Giving credit where it is due, this of course is a line from that Journey song - Songwriters: Schon, Cain and Perry. The song came on as I was posting this photo from the recent Milwaukee Street Seens exhibit -- just seemed fitting.


Photo: William Klein. Man under El, New York, 1955. Gelatin silver print

The day begs the night

We turn away to face the cold, enduring chill

As the day begs the night

for mercy love

The sun so bright it leaves no shadows

Only scars

Carved into stone

On the face of earth

The moon is up and over

on one tree hill

I see the sun go down in your eyes

You run like a river, on to the sea

You run like a river runs to the sea

And in the world a heart of darkness

A fire zone

Where poets speak their heart

Then bleed for it

you sang a song, a weapon

In the hands of one whose blood still cries

From the ground

It runs like a river runs to the sea

It runs like a river to the sea

-Bono

A memory

The band played Scarlett Begonias as we sat in the tall grass sipping beers. Ringlets of sun and rainbow reflections danced around your tan body. I remember that your hair was soft, long and brown. We were just 20. I had eyes of a child but my heart felt old. We discussed the Grateful Dead experience and I described it as a sub-culture as I gazed at a sea of thousands dancing on the green grass. The crowd seemed to inhale the music like a drug and drink the bright sunlight like fresh squeezed orange juice. You looked at me and smiled, then placed your lips on mine to blow smoke in my mouth. Your hand rested gently on my cheek, and I knew you cared for me deeply then. Someone in a long flowing skirt and bells on her ankle stopped to tell us we were beautiful together. Her patchouli reminded me of skipping stones with you at the end of a pier when we went camping once. The day was long and hazy and we danced and laughed for hours. Then there was the long kiss goodbye as we leaned on the hood of your chevy. That was the end of our road together and that's how I prefer to remember you.

untitled

The energy inside the circle is palpable and brilliant
like the hot white sparks flying from an
ingleside hearth
under a serious crescent moon.
A slow smoldering burn
strokes the night like gentle fingertips
and soft brown eyes.

From the archives

As I was adding files to my laptop from the old family computer, I found and read this very short story I had written a few years ago. Don't ask me what compelled me to write it or why I did so from this perspective.

Looking back on it now, I find this short story sort of odd and dark with consideration to my usual writing style, but whatev.

Billy

Yes, you caught a glimpse of someone like me. Unfortunately for you, you also caught a whiff of my plight – smelly and forlorn behind a torn paper bag. I’m the one you find fascinating to gawk at, but not worthy of entering your home. I couldn’t possibly enter your life. “Sad,” you say to your friends. “Scary,” you think to yourself. But you walk on, don’t you? Well perhaps our paths will cross again at the next big food holiday, like Thanksgiving for example. You’ll be the one dishing out the stuffing for all the poor lost souls waiting in line with tickets. It is so very kind of you to take the time really. You’re such a busy person. Amongst the tin trays and lime-colored linoleum of a church basement, you’re mildly disgusted but compliant. A plastic smile lurks upon your obedient face, as you silently thank your lucky stars. But then, it’s over. You’re free, and you’re gone for another year, aren’t you? Like the 30-minute television show that wraps up sparkling and tidy, so do you. You go to your clean, charming little house with its glorious possessions of choice. You slide in-between your sweet 600-count sheets feeling rather accomplished. You’ve convinced yourself that you have really done something valiant and noble. But I’m still here and you’re still there. It isn’t finished.

Today, they chased me out of Starbucks and I saw plenty of you there. Scores of you sat behind your plastic Starbucks travel cups, innocently entertained. You see, I thought it was OK this time. That cute little brunette with messy pigtails was standing behind the counter and smiled at me. I’ve been here before and she’s always been so friendly. She’s let me slide a couple of times, especially on those blustery days when I can’t feel my face. Her eyes are like deep pools of warm cocoa and they smile when she does. Then Jake, her manager, spotted me behind a copy of the Herald. He yelled over the counter at me, “Billy, get the hell out of here!” And it was all over. What can I say about the tone of a white, big shot male on a power trip telling me to get out? Well, I can tell you that it resembles the crunching timbre of your shoe squashing a big fat roach.

I know what you’re thinking; I used to think the same thing when I was important. Hard to believe, but I was a district manager for a multi-billion dollar company. Back then, I joined in on the sneers and felt compelled to say, “Hey man! Get a frickin’ job.” Somewhere along the way, I wasn’t uttering it anymore but hearing it directed at me. I stopped counting how many times I heard it. Getting a job certainly seems like the right thing to do, hey? It looks good on paper anyway. It’s simple but brilliant, don’t ya think? It is, until you consider this; I’m not a frickin’ blank canvas. I’m not a clean slate, and the world’s a very scary place without your family.

In truth, I wasn’t always like this. When you see my putty-colored face, try to picture a bright star within. It dazzled for a while, with a J.D. and M.A. breathing endless opportunities from within me. By the age of thirty, I was pulling down six figures and living in a village designed for the privileged. My wife, Gina, reeked of money and beauty. She was ethereal, and I would have killed to keep her pleased. My commercial success had made me feel invincible. It was only a matter of time before I would be made senior vice president. But the opportunities turned out to be pricey and dicey. What does a man of flesh and bone do when the deadlines multiply as budgets and heads are cut, and the hours to perform feats of brilliance dwindle? I found that there just wasn’t enough resources, caffeine or meds. The pressure - I can’t begin to tell you how powerful the force was. My wife, well she needed to obtain the very best. She always discovered what she wanted, insisting the very finest was essential. I quietly accepted. How could I not? She was the essence of the American dream, and I was responsible for her pleasure. There was exquisite furniture, fine jewelry, tailored clothing, getaway trips to Aruba and the south of France, not to mention our staff consisting of a maid and live-in chef. We had everything we desired. My internal pain was the mere price to pay to stay on top. After all, nothing’s for free. As time flew by, I began to feel myself slip from the first wrung on the ladder to third, or even lower.

Then my prayers were answered. Just a little white harmless pill, and fortunately I could perform as I began to climb to the top again. The nights and days ran together but I was performing small miracles and keeping the bald guy in the corner office very pleased. The only problem was I was beginning to lose sight of myself. I didn’t quite recognize the person I was anymore. When an $18 million deal in my territory was lost, it was only a matter of a few short weeks that I heard the rumors bubble. They were bringing in someone from the New York office to assume my territory. It was starting to happen and I panicked. To stay in the match, I diverted company stock for a riskier option with more potential. A friend of mine had doubled his profit in less than a year. I wasn’t so lucky. I ended up playing a nasty round of roulette with the stock market and lost miserably.

I recall how Gina had insisted on a Mediterranean cruise for Christmas that year. I successfully backed out of the trip and sent her along to join our friends for the cruise. I spent the holidays alone with a bottle of scotch and the barrel of my wife’s .38. After this foggy and disjointed contemplation, I arrived at utter dismay. I was too much of a chicken to follow through. I had to formulate a new plan. I had the means to find another way for myself. I was a Northwestern graduate, having graduated summa cum laude for Christ’s sake.

But the pressure of time rocketed like a bullet to my psyche. Employment opportunities grew thin, potential new appointments to positions fell through and the flow of pills was my only relief. The next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of Michigan Avenue in confusion. I didn’t even know how I got there. People were yelling at me, but I couldn’t move. I just had to sit down, and so I did. I was so very tired.

Frank, the company vice president and one of my closest allies insisted on my indefinite rest. Of course, Gina was unapprised of my leave. She couldn’t know, and I swore Frank to secrecy. She’d be gone faster than you can say loser. How could I tell her that our castle would be up for sale?

I didn’t have to. One cold November night after having spent most of the evening networking at a business cocktail party, I came home to a very dark house. Women who love material things can sniff out trouble like a vampire bat sniffs blood. She left me for Samuel, an old flame who became rich after patenting some software code he wrote. Lucky for him, it is now widely used.

How I got here, I couldn’t tell you. Eventually it became one long nightmare, a long stream of screaming phone calls and people in white. They simply wouldn’t listen to me. Now I don’t tell you all this to make you feel sorry for me. I’m sure you don’t. Just consider this perspective the next the time you see someone like me. I can hear what you say. I can see the expression on your face. Hey I’m poor, not stupid. And you’re no better than me. The stark reality is, you could be just a couple of paychecks away from joining me. Hey, do you got a buck you could spare?