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.

life lesson #12,784

Never trust someone who says they hate onions.

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.

headline of the day

"Productivity Slows to a Standstill"

when chicagoans say chicago

The job was a bust. But travelling across Chicago everyday allowed me to feel a part of the city. I studied the different faces, ethnicities, and fashion while riding the trains. I passed through a lot of neighborhoods: Wicker Park, Downtown, Belmont, Uptown, Lakeview, Roger's Park. I don't feel like I stick out so much anymore. I have a sense of the geography and the landscape; brick buildings, tall lamp posts, and sweeping skies that hint at the giant lake not far away. I watched the leaves turn from green to bright yellow, and now I watch them fall. I'm beginning to understand why when Chicagoans say "Chicago" I hear tenderness, defeat, familiarity, and stubborn hope stuffed in that one word like a plump grape ready to burst.

o in chicago

costumes

I thought I wanted to be a pirate. Then, I realized I just want to be Johnny Depp. Today, I thought maybe I could be a sting ray. Most likely, I will not dress up and then be really sad and cranky on halloween because I don't have a costume. Although, I do have a back up princess dress in the closet. Then again, maybe I can be a trucker. A scary trucker. A ghosty princess dead trucker that was killed by a stingray.

public transit oh so gross

Today on the train, the man sitting behind me was coughing this phlegmy, mucous-filled raspy cough that made me (and I imagine everyone else within ear shot) feel like I had a throat full of phleghmy mucous too, even though I didn't. He was better than the man from last week who had the looooong finger nails and was drinking pickle juice out of a jar, and just when I was thinking, "Well, atleast he isn't eating the pickles" he sticks his loooong pointy finger-nailed fingers inside the pickle jar and pulls one out and starts chomping. It's hard to describe how gross this is while barreling through Chicago on a train; Try to imagine pickle smell everywhere. I haven't even mentioned the mystery substance smeared all over the floors of Chicago trains. Dark brown in color. What is up Chicago!?

the chicago years

Today I felt as if I had been dropped inside a movie, or maybe it's more like a mini-series; I like to call it "The Chicago Years". Surrounded by people I don't really know, yet everything and everyone seems so familiar. This is proof that there is commonality between life in different cities for people that have similar interests, often to a somewhat scary degree. The bad part is that sometimes I feel divorced from the action, as if I am watching a scene play out on screen. I think this surrealism will continue until I feel more rooted. And particularly until people around me have a sense of who I am and how I can be useful. I have lost some confidence due to this sense of "not being known". Its the trick of being certain of who you are without the old smoke and mirrors to help your presentation. Without any context I'm left by myself in the middle of all these new people that look and sound so much like the people I left behind.

yellow

The trees in Chicago turn yellow in the fall.

conspiracy anyone

Every time I turn on the TV I see women tied up, tortured, and killed via numerous popular crime shows. In the context of all the girls that have been murdered in the past month, why isn't anyone objecting to these images? Doesn't anyone see how wrong it is to display torture as nightly entertainment?

low tide on cape cod

This is First Encounter Beach where apparently a bronze marker commemorates the first encounter between local Native Americans and passengers from the Mayflower. This is bay side, so it is a nice place to watch the sunset and quite the pilgrim pickup spot.

before we were grown up

You look so grown up in your picture. And when we talk on the phone we both sound so grown up. I remember when the look on your face wasn't calm self-assurance; It was only confused growing pains and just plain old pain. I also remember you had a look of amusement when you said that many years later we will laugh at all this. And now we are older and stronger and I'm happy that we can talk on the phone and just laugh.

happy to be back

I've returned from my yearly trip to Cape Cod. This time we saw the cheesy part of the Cape; the part that hasn't been refreshing since the early 70s when I'm sure it was the place to party. Iceberg lettuce salads, old dirty salty types serving surprisingly fresh seafood, and a beer they've christened "Nobska Light." We stayed in a cheap motel with low cardboard ceilings and a metal tree figurine hung on the wall above the bed.

We also saw beautiful stretches of beach that rivaled Southern California. I had never seen the National Seashore before, it runs along the wilder ocean side of Cape Cod with huge orange sandy dunes and rough (for the cape) waves. There were even surfers in wetsuits in the water. We also visited probably the best library in America: The Wellfleet Library. It has an adorable logo of two mermaids reading a book, free internet, a great selection of books, and a warm lefty population of older artsy people which hosted me and "We Interrupt This Empire" several years ago. Also, Wellfleet has a place called "Box Turtle Woods" - yes, a wild box turtle habitat! Check out the Wellfleet box turtles here. I heart Wellfleet.

As much as I love the Cape and all it's weirdness, this is the first time I've felt so happy to be back in Chicago.

commuting sucks ass

I was chilled today waiting at the bus stop for over 30 minutes. I wondered how I will survive the commute when actual winter hits. There is no bus shelter or bench. You are forced to stand on the windy corner with no protection. Usually the busses run more regularly at rush hour, but sometimes they bunch up and 4 come at the same time and if you miss those you gotta wait for a loooong time. Most sucky Chicago things are often attributed to the city corruption which lands slacker people in important jobs as part of the patronage system. I don't know how true that is. But it kinda would make anyone hate government theifs. I'm reading "Prison Memoirs of an Anarchist" which will make anyone feel cozy and warm in contrast to poor Berkman's long prison sentence. I honestly don't remember if he gets out early or not. I kind of remember from Emma's memoirs that he does the whole time, but I might be wrong. We leave for the Cape tomorrow, so look for some good pictures when I get back.

fresh veggies!

scare fest

Hows about that scare fest on TV today? I have to admit I watched the complete docudrama. Scary. Especially all those shakey camera shots. I'd like to see a blair witch version of 911. Right after I finish my big foot remake. This past weekend I successfully celebrated my freedom by attending an outdoor music fest and a White Sox game (I ate a HOT DOG WITH ONIONS!). It was all very American. Topping it off with a mini-series that did successfully scare me. Good job ABC. It was almost as scary as Couric's interview with the prez.

My favorite part:

COURIC: I know we're almost out of time, Mr. President, and you have a very busy day ahead. But one philosophical question that many have that I'd like you to respond to, if you could, is that US policy, vis-à-vis Iraq, and the United States' close alliance with Israel, certainly highlighted in recent events between Israel and Lebanon, has galvanized terrorists worldwide. In other words, these policies have created more terrorists than they have eliminated.

BUSH: Yeah.

COURIC: How do you respond to that?

BUSH: Well – the first thing I would tell people that – we weren't in Iraq on September the 11th, 2001, when 19 killers killed 3,000 Americans in the most brutal attack on our – on our soil – ever.

COURIC: But they were from Saudi Arabia.

antidote for cynicism

I never thought I'd say this, but I am starting to miss the college students I used to work with at Berkeley. They were always full of anticipation, exhilirated by the possibilties of life that lay before them. They were all much more diligent than I was in college. They studied hard and were smart cookies. They embodied a mix of neediness and independence that was sometimes adorable and at other times insufferable. Often I felt old, dumbfounded, and annoyed in their presence. Sometimes I was horrified by their ignorance, for example when I overheard two young women say they would NEVER call themselves feminists, I think one of them actually said "ew!" Other times I was touched by their sentimentality and ability to quickly form community and accept others. Most of all, I miss the way their hopefulness and uncynicism rubbed off on me no matter how hard I tried to avoid it.

life's too short

Check out the picture, life is too short. If you don't slow down you'll miss the hotdog man doing a little dance. Just another weird Chicago thing I passed on the street lately. The biggest lesson I am learning from having left the Bay Area is how to let go. Even though that has been impressed upon me by several people who left me before I wanted them to, there is nothing like choosing to take off yourself. Forced disengagement. In the process of letting go, bits of memories come crashing through, several each day actually. Little snippets of conversations, disagreements, protests, meetings, drunken nights, embarassing moments, big parties; scenes that unravel into complicated situations that sometimes I don't want to remember. I don't know why these rememberances come back to me so vividly and suddenly like they do. Staring out the bus window, I take a deep breath and push them aside for a while. At some point, I think I will need to put it into context; a narrative I can understand. One thing is certain; the past decade has been filled with life and interesting situations. But tonight, tonight, here in Chicago I rode a tandem bicycle with A. home from D's house. Weaving in and out through the cold night air. I never rode a tandem bicycle in the Bay. Not even once.

mornings and coffee poem #134

I love mornings and coffee
because I feel as if I could do anything.
Mornings and coffee, even if it is bad coffee,
go so well together
I am productive when it is the morning
and I'm drinking coffee
A pair like beer and whiskey
Mornings and coffee