Tuesday, November 28, 2006

clear lake christmas


The lake was a big mirror of blueness. It smelled like new and the Northern California air was just the right chill. Above the lake, we walked with scarves wrapped tight on the dirt trail winding through scarred pines. We walked with running noses, and got cold. Back in the cabin with the fiber optic Christmas tree, we cooked enchiladas and pie and ate and ate some more. On the TV played a silly movie. Later, me and Sarah drove until we found a Chinese restaurant with a bar. We drank our beers under the tinsel and surrounded by locals. You girls aren't from around here, they said. We watched big families make holiday toasts. When our glasses were empty, we drove the station wagon around the edges of the silent lake. Back in the cabin snug and warm, we giggled about Harbin hot springs and fell asleep on Christmas eve. In the morning, the fiber optic tree twinkled at us as we closed the door to check out.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

co-optable co-ops


Back in Chicago. Again reminded of the vacant american dream. Bewildered by the difficulty of finding Newman-Os and organic tofu in a city this size. Feeling the passage of my San Francisco days. No tofurkey this year. Even North Carolina has Coops.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

a life lived under the ocean

Communion is my job. It has been said, to watch a person play is to see his soul. A life lived under the ocean in silent murky sound. A musician’s brain performs strange mathematical somersaults. With prodding, concentration and discipline, music comes. Up top in the air is where the rest of life vibrates. Choosing to rap myself in velvet water so the world can listen. If she sticks her head in for long enough.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

life lesson #12,784

Never trust someone who says they hate onions.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

train goodbyes

It is foggy in Chicago. Today the trees were framed in the train window like a painting. Bare tree limbs in the gray mist with just a few yellowish leaves barely hanging on. My mind drifted in a roundabout way as I thought about my old car, then my wine colored rug, and then to my ex-boyfriends family, and finally to rest with Maria. I remembered how I ran into Maria on the BART train one morning unexpectedly, because she lived in Sacramento. Surprised to see me, she asked me how I was and what I was reading. I don't remember the book I had on my lap, but I do remember chatting with Maria for a few minutes before reaching my stop and I remember how warm she was, and how motherly. I stepped off the train thinking what an amazing woman. About a month later, I got a call that Maria had died of cancer, and i felt how strange and lucky it was that I ran into her on the train and was able to say goodbye.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

headline of the day

"Productivity Slows to a Standstill"