Blah Blah Blah ...

It was a mystery clouds / blinds drawn sort of day. Not much happened and I'm alright with that. I reconnected with the deep Irish well. An NBA player I'd not heard of came out, which is actually big news. The Muse couldn't get out of work early enough to come over, but we have plans for tomorrow. Blah blah blah. I'm not unhappy, really, but there's just no story here. Good night.

Piermont / Mixing ...

Today was as quiet yet productive as I'd hoped, when I was sitting early this morning writing that last entry, with the birds and the Spring breeze and the not-too-hot-yet sun.

After a gentle breakfast, E and I went for a short outing, to Piermont, which was overcast and mysterious. The walk out to the middle of the mighty Hudson is always inspiring.

Coming home a bit later than I expected, Bug and I nevertheless did the mix for yesterday's Womb Sessions, which had all the heart and soul and darkness and light I had hoped for. Wow.

Now I am tired once again. Maybe not schwarma tired. But tired enough to say good night. Please forgive the lackluster title above. Alright. Seriously. Bed.

The Womb Sessions Vol. 2 ...

Yesterday was the kind of day where I feel so keenly this new life I am building for myself, and for those I love. I wish I had been awake enough to write about it last night when it was fresh, but I crashed on the couch before the clock spoke 11, bone tired and so very, very happy.

It was time for Womb Session #2. After our traditional bagel breakfast, Bug and I began setting up for Beth Ann's 1pm arrival. The session began with a new twist : with me sitting out and Bug playing her metal bowl in duet with BA on a new chant, one of the most haunting I've yet heard.

I was so proud of Bug, for her deep soul playing on this, her first ever professional session. This set the tone for the rest of the day's work, and also for the two of them to connect on a deeper level, with Bug explaining Loki to her. I always love when my favorite people make heart connections of their own.

Speaking of heart connections, The Muse was missing me (even though we just went out on Friday) and wishing we could share creative space, so with the blessing of the other two, I invited her over to sit in the front room and work on her film editing projects while we recorded in the back room.

My performance, as you might expect, was affected greatly by this. Even though I couldn't see her from my cozy corner spot, I knew she was there, listening, letting the music into her heart. We all got down to work, as the afternoon turned to evening and The Womb got hotter, the vibe more potent.

Even as we were playing, I could hear the struggle in BA's voice. She was tired. She doesn't particularly like recording. There are all sorts of stresses and pressures making her heart heavy, and in a non linear, non specific way, I was hearing all of that in her performances. I really cannot wait to hear the playbacks.

With five tunes in the can, around 45 minutes of music by my estimate, we stopped around 7pm, and the four of us sat on the floor and had cupcakes to celebrate the end of a great session. BA headed home, and The Muse stuck around a little longer, and the day was done.

After cleaning up, Bug and I sat at the kitchen table, re-enacting the scene at the end of The Avengers at the schwarma place. Who knew that recording was a full contact sport? But it is, and these tracks are worth it. I can't wait for you to hear them when they go live in a couple of says.

All for now. Back on post midnight track later on. Hopefully.

I am tired, but my tank is full ...

It's 2am and I am tired, but my tank is full. After a strong kirtan at the monthly superjam, The Muse and I went out for corner booth time, and we went deep. This is not particularly unusual, but we actually had our first awkward moments on the drive over, which is funny in retrospect. We're learning more and more about how to communicate, about how to trust. We're pushing each other to open up, and it's scary and amazing in equal measure. One AM in the car in front of her apartment gets harder and harder every time ...

So much more I could talk about, particularly from this morning when puppetry and Shakespeare were once again front and center. But I am tired, and my tank is full, and I need sleep. Good night.

Breakfast in Baltimore, Lunch in Philly, and back in The Womb ...

Back at my desk after a whirlwind two days. 'Twas a four state day (MD, DE, PA, NJ) and my body knows about it! Once again, this will be brief and picture driven.

After a great breakfast and quiet morning at the hotel (the oubliette had us convinced it was overcast, when in reality it was a bright blue day) it was back to the Inner Harbor, for another go at the aquarium. Once again, it was delightful.

Three o'clock rolled around faster than we would have liked, so after a quick drive to look at Camden Yards, we hit the road for the long, traffic filled ride home.

The highlight, by far, was taking a detour through South Philadelphia to have a late lunch at Pat's King of Steaks. After my first Philly steak sandwich back in November, I've been dying to go there. It did NOT disappoint.

Driving the final leg through Bucks County, past our old houses, through New Hope, brought on a nice bit of reflection. Not nostalgia. Not melancholy. But an awareness of how much has changed.

We got home around 10pm, and watched Glee while E had her sushi, then had cake, before everyone crashed. Kinda like I'm crashing now. Sorry this isn't a better entry. It was really a lovely two days.

Good night.

Someplace New ...

I'm sitting in a comfy chair in room 822 of the Radisson Lord Baltimore, writing this on my phone. As such, this will be more impressionistic than usual. Hopefully, the pictures will make up for it.

Oh, how I love visiting someplace I've never been! Baltimore's Inner Harbor is a tiny, manicured, absolutely lovely place, in stark contrast, I'm sad to say, to the rather dangerous city surrounding it.

We didn't roll into town until almost 3pm, after a traffic filled drive down, but three hours at the National Aquarium was a great way to immerse ourselves. Say hello to a few new friends ...

I wasn't particularly cognizant of Baltimore's reputation as a crab mecca, as I am not a seafood eater. My limited palette was challenged, but the balcony seating at the Pratt Street Pavilion made it all worth it.

Across a small bridge was a GIGANTIC building, a converted 100 year old power plant that now houses by far the coolest Barnes & Noble I've ever seen. Chocolate blackout cupcake on the balcony, anyone???

Getting the parking and voucher sorted for the hotel was a bit of a challenge, as the streets got a bit less friendly after dark, but we figured it out and this hotel ended up being more posh that I'd expected.

Now it's coming up on 1am, and tomorrow has a lot of exploring and driving ahead. The bed seems cozy. The oubliette outside the window is making a meditative windy sound. To rest, then.

Expansion ...

I think having The Muse up here yesterday caused a bit of an expansion experience.

I was wide awake at 6am, staring at the ceiling and feeling the madness nipping at my heels. I needed to write, to go dark, but I didn't know how. By 7am, I had no choice, and got up and came up and there it was. Diamanda Galas. Puppetry. Some words began to come, but more importantly, I was living inside the quiet storm where the mad seeds grow mad trees and poems grow like fruit, albeit on the highest branches.

By 9am, I wrote The Muse to tell her about it, knowing she was once again surrounded by Muggles and my story might help her stay connected with real things. By 10am the puppetry / dance / circus vibe  was fit to bursting, after an entry by a new Twitter ally named Linda reminded me how deeply that shadowy vocation fascinates and affects me. By 1130, I had talked to Beth Ann, about all the things, and it was time to see E off to work.

I started feeling that a trip into the city would not be very smart, feeling as vulnerable and wide open as I did. So E took the car, I wrote to Tempest and told her why I would be missing this salon, and settled back in up here for the duration. David Sylvin provided the soundtrack to the rest of the day, as he tends to when I go deep and dark and need to hear that it's possible to thrive when going to those places.

The Muse In The Womb ...

My one day home this week. A blue pants day. I baked fresh bread.

The Muse had a very bad Muggle day at work. I had the house to myself. She brought cold Coke in the glass bottle and I made grilled cheese on the fresh baked bread, and tater tots, and we sat at the kitchen table and everything got real.

J got home after 6, and they connected and it was lovely. A favorite people summit, I called it. Three people jostling for the title of "Weirdest Person In The Room". So easy.

We came up to The Womb, the Muse and I. We were going to watch Heima, but it was starting to get late. So we sat on the floor and started talking, and talked for longer than Heima would have run.

We already have plans to go out on Friday night after my gig. And she's going to get herself a pair of blue sweats and come back another Monday so we can have blue pants day together.

Maybe next time we'll actually watch Heima.

Ahhhhhhh.

Two Sides Of The Outer Life Coin ...

After yet another lovely Spring afternoon out of doors, this time at Greenwood Lake (see above) it was a day of outer work, and of the great chasm between the two sides of that work.

As gorgeous and peaceful as that gazebo was, I was actually happy to come back to Earth to play a mini kirtan with Beth Ann at 5pm. It was for the chakra / vinyasa module she was facilitating for yoga teacher training, and we played a sixty minute set at the end of their workshop. We were playful, and the dozen or so people loved it, and it was as effortless and lovely as it always is.

Then my shamanic coworkers began to arrive. And the ease disappeared. And I had to go so deep into my Trickster character just to get through the event. And I felt like a fraud. And I had discouraged everyone from coming. No E & J. No BA. No Muse. And I was lonely, but it was right to protect them. But I was lonely. And I have to trust what I was taught and leave it by the side of the road. Soon.

A Perfect Spring Day In The City ...

Is it possible to have a more perfect Spring day, in The City no less?? I doubt it.

From the minute I walked out my door (see above) it was clear that this was going to be a lovely day. The humidity was gone. The blues and greens were getting stronger. Here and there splashes of pink and yellow. Just lovely.

There was no traffic whatsoever driving to the West Village, and my secret street with the perception filter on it (no, I will not tell you which one) was as quiet and easy to park on a Saturday afternoon as it is on a Tuesday night.

I was fashionably late, showing up for a noon party at the Vagabond around 1230. My friend Tempest, whose birthday we were celebrating, showed up only five minutes before I did, and the other dozen or so people were even more fashionable than I was. Guess this is how my IAF crowd rolls ...

It was great to see Ellen and Delia, to sit and talk about Virginia and knitting and Icelandic music, ahead of Delia's big surgery on Wednesday. There were interesting new people to meet, as always, and Tempest really seemed to enjoy the shamanic book and card I gave her. Such a fun time.

We had agreed beforehand that I would drive her home, up to Inwood, so we could continue the festivities at the Cloisters, before walking the few blocks to her place. This is the part of the entry where I show you gorgeous pictures of the Cloisters. Look away if you are allergic to beauty.

I wish I could share with you what it sounded like as we sat under those skylights. An early music vocal ensemble called Pomerium was rehearsing in the Fuentiduena Chapel, voices soaring to heaven. It was everything good about the world. Without a doubt, that 20 minutes was the highlight of the day for me.

After all these years of going there, walking down to her street meant actually walking around Fort Tryon Park for the first time. As with so many of the city parks, this one was lush, with a marvelous view of the Hudson, and full of interesting trails. This won't be the last time I go there.

When we got to her place, I was honoured to have her share her sacred space / altar with me. We even did a little ritual, involving relighting one of The Lady's candles from a Fire Tempest had done with us at the 'Seed last year. It was short but potent, and actually quite emotional.

I was getting hungry after not eating since bagel breakfast with Bug, so after she walked me back to the car and I subsequently drove her back home, I headed back over the bridge, as always wishing I wasn't, filled with gratitude for that place, and the marvelous people I meet every time I go there.

The Power of a Name ...

This place is a little too public to talk about what I did today. But I am different than I was yesterday. I jumped off the cliff. I released something seismic that no longer served me. I cannot undo this. I would never want to undo this.

I feel like a new person. In some ways, I guess I am.

The Deep Breath Before The Plunge ...

After a morning spent fighting the anxiety, I returned to Jason’s company this afternoon, after a five week absence. We talked about all the things, about Friday and Albany and BA and The Muse and his upcoming book release. I felt bad for being away for so long. I’ll try not to do that again.

This evening was quiet, featuring a fair amount of Muse texting (that was all day, actually) and dinner and Glee, which was one of the better episodes this season. I am powerless against those damn kids singing that damn Journey song!  : )

And now to read a bit, and try to get my mind off of tomorrow.  Good night.

I'll Take It ...

Today went a little differently than I’d hoped, but it’s alright. I was planning on buying a new outfit, for an important meeting on Friday, but when the shoe salesman treated me poorly at my first stop, it kind of took the steam and the fun out of the whole enterprise.

So instead of shopping we went and got lunch in Fort Lee, and tooled around along and above the Mighty Hudson, as constant a friend and inspiration as I know. A new view, and some treacherous roads, at Tallman Mountain State Park. A drive through Piermont, where there is a yoga studio I’d like BA and I to play. The first trip to the top of Perkins Drive this season, as the sun slowly began to set. Peace and quiet and a seat closer to the sky. I’ll take it.

We wrapped the night up with the new Jackie Robinson movie, which was very good, and which brought up issues, as any story having to do with discrimination does. We’ve been home since a little before 11, and still, all is still. Like I said, I’ll take it.

Good night.

Occasionally, You Just Have To Be Fabulous ...

Things don't feel any less broken today. In fact, in some ways they feel more broken. But sometimes, whatever is going on around you, you just need to have triple chocolate ice cream for dinner, double down on the eyeliner, and be fabulous. So that's what I did, and it felt good.

The Muse texted first thing this morning. BA checked in on me in the afternoon. Bug and I spent the evening together (the afore mentioned ice cream dinner, which also included popcorn for good measure). I got my brows done, and booked a few gigs and at least moved around a little.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring. But right now, I am a character from the mirror-verse, Slytherin and fiery and slightly fuck-off-ish. If I lived in the city, I would absolutely be getting into some trouble downtown. Yeah ... you know you like me this way ...

Autographs payable in stardust and time tokens.
Good night.

So Much Is Broken ...

I was in a bad way long before 3pm, when the worst among us broke the world yet again. I woke up filled with my own dread and anxiety, paralyzed to the point of inaction on several fronts. Even going to the Arboretum and having a nap in the gazebo didn't ease my feeling that so much in my life, and the world, is broken. When I feel that way, I go deep inside, to silence and words and colours and foundational things. I accomplished nothing today, yet I am exhausted. Thank god The Muse texted a little while ago, having loved the mix / aurora entry from the other night, or today would've been a complete loss.

Deep prayers to those directly affected this afternoon, and to the rest of us as well. Every time this happens, the world gets smaller, less nimble and less possible. When does it stop?

A Sunday That Felt Like A Saturday ...

Today was fine. Bug and I transposed our usual Saturday bagel time to today. E had work in the morning, and then we went for a ride to see the cherry blossoms in Newark. We had a meal at the old River View hot dog place, around the corner from our first apartment. Haven't been there in years. Though I have zero use for nostalgia, it's hard not to think about 1997, nevermind September 18, 2004, when I'm there. Nothing around it has changed, while everything about me has. Strange life.

Sorry for the utter lack of extra-dimensional noodling tonight, gang. Some days are just kinda surface. Even for me. Good night.

These Songs Just Saved My Life ...

Music is one of the great healing forces, one of the great communication tools, one of the greatest things Thoth ever created. Anyone who knows me knows I think this, and with good reason. It's been my great good fortune to have been taken into the confidence of this great force, this great tool, for the last 32 years. So many nights, I get to wield this great thing, to help people smile and dance and forget (or possibly remember) for a little while. Tonight, for the first time in a long time, at the end of a very long and trying day, it swooped around and took me for a ride, and I am so grateful.

From the time I was small, I made mixtapes. Not schmoopy adolescent love song filled mixtapes (though I did make one or two of those, of course) but themed tapes, with an arc and a flow. Even then, I was able to think micro and macro at the same time. Not only this song is perfect, but how does this song fit with the one in front and behind it? (In another life, I would've made a hell of a disc jockey.) When I got a cd burner in my 20's, I got really passionate about this, adding improvisation to the equation. I would start with one song, and literally pick the next song before the one playing ended. It was exhilarating.

For some reason I can't remember, I stopped doing this years ago. I honestly can't tell you the last time I made a mix. Every once in a while, it will come up between Bug and I, and I say "I should really make one again." And then I never do. Why music visited in this way tonight, I don't know. Was it a reward for being a good friend to Beth Ann when she needed one most? Was it a consolation for dealing with the discomfort downstairs? Was it because I have someone I want to share these songs with? Yeah. Probably. So much comes down to her these days, doesn't it?

Thirteen songs. Improvised, the way I used to do it. All the while, imagining that The Muse and I had made it to Iceland, like we texted about this afternoon, to see the aurora. Maybe on some other Earth, we did make it. My nighttime daydream was imagining what songs we would listen to as we sat there on the cold earth, silent, looking up at the colours, at the gateway to the deep sky. Thirteen songs. One for each moon. No need to be greedy, to have every perfect song. Just the ones that sang in tune with the colours. Each song came, one by one. Those were the songs. I know that. I trust that.

With Bug's encouragement (the mix was for her as well, to be honest, as she was sending Reiki in the room below me as I began, and I wanted to honour how deep our relationship has gotten of late) I am thinking of creating a cover and burning actual discs and sending them to a few dear ones, to share with them what 1AM in The Womb feels like, when everything is just so. I wonder if they'll like it? I wonder if she'll like it? After the things we shared today, through text only, sadly, I think she will.

I realize I probably should talk about the quantum leap Beth Ann and I took in our friendship today, and how deep of a rehearsal we had. I realize I should probably talk about the late night ride that E and I took to Weehawken to look at the greatest machine ever built, and all of the dear ones I thought of while standing at the overlook at Hamilton Park. (I will share the view, though ... ) But all I can think about are these damn songs, each one a perfect puzzle piece, each one helping me find a new way to imagine, and a new way to love. And as I say a lot in here, it all comes down to love in the end.

Reconnecting With An Old Friend ...

Flame Shift #70 stayed quiet, gentle and peaceful, at least up to the point where I had to knock off two hours early to go to a gig. Ugh. Really need to be more vigilant with those two calendars in 2014.

My on again off again gig at the Shala continues to surprise me. When it gets good, something invariably goes wrong, personnel-wise. Then just when things feel ready to break, we have a great gig and things move forward. That is where I found myself tonight.

Ricardo was present, and really pleasant to be around. The tunes had moxie. Another of the local gang, Ana, came up to sing up two tunes. BA and Mark were in the audience, among a crowd of about 20. Everyone seemed to get a lot out of the show.

The biggest surprise, and unquestioned highlight, though, was sitting for two hours after the gig and reconnecting with my old friend Ivy, the studio owner. Longtime readers may remember that her and I were quite close a few years ago, before I came out.

That event, though, seemed to put some distance between us, to my great sadness. I never had confirmation, and even now she's not standing up and outright saying that I made her uncomfortable. More that she was going through some stuff at the same time and didn't quite know how to deal with me changing.

Sitting there tonight, opening back up, trusting each other again, it felt like picking up where we left off, as if no time had passed, even though we're both at very different places in our lives. We got rid of ambiguities, which is so important to me these days, and I honestly feel like our friendship is back on track, maybe better even than it was.

What an amazing thing! What a strange and wonderful life!
Good night.

Flame Shift #70 ...

The heat broke today. The windows are open and I won't have to sleep on top of the sheets tonight. Makes it much easier to spend twenty four hours up here, with all sorts of candles lit, to do the heart of my work. I'm almost five hours in, and sleep is beckoning, but not quite yet. There are still things to do.

From the moment The Muse shook me out of a depressed stupor with a love filled text at 930am, today had the possibility of being beautiful. The world seemed too noisy, too chaotic, too impossible, so I stayed in. The world can do without me. It can have me tomorrow night. But today was mine.

Weaveworld came in, as did the Van Gogh Tardis poster. I read a bit and studied a bit and did nothing a bit and fasted for 19 hours. I also got a snazzy new background up on this here blog, with Bug's help, because Blogger is still kinda stupid when it comes to customizability.

Did the day ever get beautiful? I'm not sure. But it was quiet, and that is almost the same thing.

Reconstruction, or A Long Visit To Avon ...

It's actually Thursday morning as I write this. I crashed so hard last night that writing simply wasn't possible. Damn calcination.

The heart of yesterday was a five hour stint at Avon / Happy Cove. It was the third and final day of this first heat blast of the year, and I could think of no better place to spend it. Truth be told, the temperature differential at the sea was close to 20 degrees lower than home, so though there was enough sun that I got a little colour on my face, it wasn't actually all that warm. Mercy.

For a few short hours, I felt real peace. It didn't last, but I was grateful for it. So grateful. It's marvelous to see the re-construction in full swing, as Avon, Belmar, Spring Lake and the rest feverishly prepare for Memorial Day weekend. There were many times these last few months where it was easy to wonder if we'd ever have a boardwalk again. As you can see, that's no longer a question. Once again, mercy.

After dinner at the Chinese place, a crazy intense thunderstorm blew through, which kept me in Barnes & Noble long enough to buy more books than I had intended to. But Pops, Rumi, the two Charles' and especially this picture book were worth it. Picture books, picture books ... so much wisdom in picture books for answerless folk like me.

There probably would have been more insights if I had written last night, which is why I try to always write before putting the day to bed, but if I had written last night, it probably wouldn't have had any insights anyway. And so it goes.  More tonight, then, before bed.

91 Degrees In April ...

The sun has been down for six hours, and still The Womb is uninhabitable. It hit 91 up there today, and I am actually writing this at the kitchen table, where the central AC is keeping me happy after an ice cold shower. (Yes, in April.)

Other than a lovely 90 minute phone chat with BA, an even more lovely bit of texting with The Muse, and a drive with E to a lake whose name I forget, today did not have much going for it. In fact, the seven hours of active calcination, from 9am to 3pm, was downright hellish. Every button that could be pushed was pushed. Money. Safety. Family. You name it. Why am I putting myself through this???

I'm gonna finish this Pandorica / Big Bang two parter, and call it a day. Good night.

A Heart Wide Open Sort of Day ...

It was the first hot day of Spring, and the otherwise wonderful Womb, which you must remember is a finished attic, shot up to 83 degrees. Yes, with the windows open. It's too early to put the window AC units in, so I will grit my teeth and get through this early heat disturbance, which is set to last about three days.

Despite the discomfort, it was a heart wide open sort of day. Vincent & The Doctor stuck with me, and I thought a lot about madness & visions & the creative life. I see other worlds, and I try to write them down, and I hope that when people read what I write they can find their way there. That's crazy, isn't it?

The Muse is highly psychic, and it's one of the things I love about her. Her openness. Her receptivity. The bravery it takes to show that side of herself to me. So why do I love it about her and then turn around and wish I didn't see those other worlds? What would I be if I stopped seeing them, stopped visiting them in my dreams?

It's astonishing to me how little I have in the way of answers these days. Calcination, like the work of the South in shamanism, seems to be about emptying out, hollowing out, beginning again from nothing, and dying dying dying to who you were. I've gotten good at this, regenerating periodically, but it never gets easier.

I know this is why The Doctor has been such an important character and metaphor for me these last few years. During my own last regeneration, the last Doctor was a touchstone for me, all charismatic and full of answers, his sharp intelligence and big heart matched only by his loneliness. Sounds like who I used to be, to the letter.

Now though, this strange, angry, unsure, young looking but old-hearted man is running around with that name, and everything I disliked about him these last few years is resonating with me, probably because I see all of those qualities within myself now. It's a bit eerie to find our lives mirrored in the stories we love, isn't it?

The afternoon continued on, hot and vulnerable, and I wrote a few more lines of what seems to be the heart of the new book, the section I've been writing around for the last few months. E was in and out, off to her yoga and volunteering, and when Bug got home I spent some time in the kitchen with her, sharing all these feels with her while she made me one of her rosemary / thyme smudge sticks.

When E got home, we had dinner and watched some old Uncle Floyd skits, before I came back up here to write a letter to The Muse. (It had been a few days, and she needed a new Jonsi track ... ) It's not terribly late but I'm tired and this entry is running out of steam. Good night my dears. Miss you all.

Vincent & The Doctor ...

After a quiet, light breakfast morning, it was off to Skyands Manor for the afternoon, for a bit of molecule moving. They say Spring is going to hit with a vengeance tomorrow, so I will enjoy the quiet paths and slowly waking trees while I can. I won't mind the green, of course, but I wish it could come without the heat.

I had a long, quiet middle of the day up here, while E and J worked on their own projects and cleaned the downstairs. Bug did come up and rattle and smudge The Womb and me, which felt lovely, and served to usher the last of the Albany based anxiety out of the space.

I finished my time up here watching Vincent & The Doctor, and my conversion to the dark side was complete. It took three years away, and then ten episodes, and I still don't like Ms. Pond, but I am ready to accept Mr. Smith as The Doctor. He might not be my Doctor, but maybe he's The Doctor I need right now ...

There's more I could say about that, but I am blinky, and the couch beckons. Good night.

The Taste of Stars in the Desert Sky ...

Don't mind that title. It's a strong connecting metaphor I stumbled upon this morning, and even now, it's suggesting things to me. Daaaaamn, this next book has some Fire in it ...

With E home on a rare Saturday morning, Bug and I had to restructure our bagel time, so we ate breakfast around noon and then I took to her to one of my favorite quiet spots along the mighty Hudson. She knows she needs to get out of her chair more, and of course, I have places like this coming out of my ears ...

After a quick stop home to shower and grab my drum, I picked The Muse up at 630. After seeing / hearing just one and a half tunes last Friday, she really wanted to experience a full gig. We got to the 'Seed a little before showtime, and she sat right in the front, and I played for her all night. She cried and smiled in all the right places, and connected really sweetly with BA afterwards, and despite the low attendance, I couldn't have been happier.

It was really nice to have her in the car with me after the show, as that is when I am always at my loneliest. The jazz hands have come off. The crowd has gone home. And it's just me, simultaneously happy to not be in character anymore, and counting down to when I get to do it again. With her there, it was different, though. I already knew I could talk to her about anything. But to have her understand these complexities ... just ... wow.

We went to the PQ for dinner, like we do, and though we didn't get the corner booth, we dove deep deep deep as always. Suddenly it was midnight, and we said all the things, and just like last week, and every other time, we didn't want it to end, and we listened to Sigur Ros in silence on the way home and we didn't want it to end, and we hugged and hugged and I drove off because what else could I do?

This is why people turn their hearts off, why they go numb. Because to feel so deeply is stupid, and it hurts. And I'm a poet, so I have no other choice. Dammit.

Pavlov's Email Alert ...

There is no good reason for the level of anxiety I feel right now. Except that there is. I sent a clear, concise cease & desist letter to my Albany contact this afternoon, before going for a walk around Packanack Lake, and I've been jumpy ever since that I will once again not be heard. I'm having a Pavlovian reaction to the email sound my computers make, and have pretty much shut off all my tech, other than this last browser. Clearly, as I've said, this situation is pushing my buttons.

The rest of the day was mostly meh, mostly alone. I did have a long phone chat with BA, and Packanack was lovely, as you can see, and Bug and I (mostly Bug) put the finishing touches on the monthly kirtan newsletter. And The Muse did text that we are on for an evening together tomorrow. So maybe it wasn't all that meh. But anxiety can even make the loveliest things lose a bit of their colour. And so, to bed, in the hopes that some of that colour will return tomorow. Good night.

The Albany Situation ...

It's getting on towards 2am. I had a yerba mate around 10pm and am paying for it. I wish I could sleep right now. Too much rolling around in my head. Damn yerba mate. Damn me.

I'm so angry. Angry at not being heard. At being outright ignored. I haven't really talked about The Albany Situation in here, I don't think, and I'm not going to start now if I haven't, but as my studies of the Tablet and the Stone intensify, and as Spring continues its inevitable arrival, I am gradually closing up my "outer life" shop, to all but a trusted few, and I cannot and will not be put in a situation where my impeccability is not honored. Damn Muggles.

Though I am in a state now, and though I was in a foul mood from the time I got up 'til around 4pm, the middle few hours were as polar opposite / full of win as you could ask for. The foul mood broke when The Muse surprised me with a call on her way home, after getting out of work early. Not coincidentally, I was literally putting the finishing touches on a letter for her, so I got to tell her stories instead of her having to read them. And there are possible plans afoot for Saturday night ...

When Bug got home, we put the final touches on the Beth Ann project, and the BandCamp page went live.We continue to be so very proud of it, and after working through her old self-criticizing behaviors, I'm happy to say that Beth Ann is proud of it as well. Around 7pm, the much missed Nancy arrived for a long needed PBT evening. So wonderful that as busy as we all are, we continue to make time for these important evenings around the table. Almost four years we've been doing this, and nights like tonight remind us why. We go deep. We are heard. A real blessing.

I felt bad that The Albany Situation erupted during our time together, but it was good to get validation that I was not barking up the wrong tree. Now everyone is gone, and cake has been digested, and I've sent yesterday's New Hope / Princeton pics to The Muse, along with the BandCamp link. I should try getting some sleep. T.A.S. is not going to fix itself. Tomorrow should be interesting ...

It's Never Going To Be Simple, Is It ... ?

I'm so utterly, blinkily tired after an emotional 300 mile day that this will have to be brief.

The traditional Wednesday travels were delayed by a depressing stop at the DMV. Would've done it another day but it needed to be done. The drive out 80/46 was pleasant, and the Water Gap was lovely, but E & I started fighting on route 191, surrounded by rolling hills and beauty. We almost gave up on the day, but found some peace when we reached the Delaware River scenic road. Reaching New Hope as the sun began to set, we had a genuine breakthrough walking the canal, especially the northbound section after it got dark. Two people with agonizing accounts of their faults, asking for forgiveness. Will it last? Who can say. But it was beautiful. The roundabout way home included a drive down River Road, past our two old houses, Chinese food in Lawrenceville (where I used to eat every week when I taught drums, several lifetimes ago) and a drive through Princeton, where I couldn't help think of The Muse, even today. The highway bit, on 287/80 felt interminably long, and now I'm up here and shaking my head at this day and this life.

It's never going to be simple, is it?

Almost Live ...

Bug and I spent the entire evening up here, mixing Saturday's Womb Sessions, and setting up all the infrastructure for them to be distributed. We are quite proud of how it all came out, once again overcoming technical obstacles that would've frozen us in our tracks a decade ago. Unfortunately, BA went to bed before we could get her to approve the mix, so with tomorrow's traditional wandering, the record will not go live until Thursday. It'll be worth the wait, but damn it.

The rest of the day was fine, for the first time since Saturday if I'm being honest. E and I had a quiet gentle morning, featuring one of my better breakfasts, before she had to go to work from 3 - 10pm.  I had fun little connections with dear ones on Twitter, and listened a bit and read a bit and felt a bit more like myself. I also ordered a limited edition of one of my favorite books, Weaveworld, and the second installment of The Grey Fox Epistles. It's nice when beauty and inspiration start to appear again, after a barren stretch.

Tired. Movement tomorrow. Good night.

Stardust Damaged ...

Just got off text with The Muse for the second consecutive night. And for the second consecutive night, it put the cherry on top of an otherwise dodgy day.

After a depressing morning (where I came up with the metaphor in the title above) contemplating the nature of Fools, Tricksters, troublemakers, masks, laughter and chaos, I had a productive but ultimately damaging laser appointment at 3pm. Even taking a full set of Perelandra essences, my electrical system was shot for the rest of the day.

Bug was out super late with two (?!?!?) chiropractor appointments, and E was out teaching her usual Monday night class, so I was mostly left to my own devices, which suited me. I futzed around, and didn't accomplish much, but it was quiet. Which is no small thing.

And now, wrapping back around, still stardust damaged but bathing in Muse light, the couch beckons. Good night.

Holidays Are Never Happy Days ...

I'm always grateful for The Muse. This goes without saying. But the text she just sent me, at almost one in the morning, just to tell me she was thinking of me, to thank me for existing and for sending her a song yesterday that she's listened to "over and over" ... dear god, can I even explain to you what that meant to me? To say she saved the day would be an understatement.

It's been a very bad day around here. Holidays are always a problem for me. Even holidays I don't have any affinity for bring up serious issues in this house. Loneliness for me, of course. For others, it's expectations & other old issues that come to the surface. I'm trying so intentionally to live a new kind of life, to serve my art and my studies. I just don't know what to do when this stuff intrudes.

Oh fuck it. I'm speaking in code in my own blog. Even on a day like today, I will not throw a loved one under the bus. Damn it. I'm too tired to create new worlds tonight. To bed, and my dreams, then. Good night.