chica

she left the city swollen
sometimes with her way of certain
being

self-righteous. inflammatory
happenings surrounded her

creating a greater family

wherever she go refuse to be

stereotyped

gen.x
predating the baby boomers’

babies on
the evolutionary timeline. USA

attention: not to mention
she considered herself the luckiest
one alive

11.18.19

i dusted my guitar yesterday and pumped air into my bicycle and rode the river for a while. god willing i might meet some old chords and new friends and find my way back to source. a dusting off may not go a great distance but i’m telling you…every creative effort makes a moment a little brighter for me and you. and that’s something to love about life.

digital ink child

maybe the sweetest moment of writing a book
comes when      the intangibles
the tangibles

coalesce into a unified

tale
whole fiction
re.creation
en.vision

abstracted (out) then dropped back (in) to the world

the conveyance
your child of
digital ink

surrounds

like an atmosphere
like an aura
like a concert
like a principle
like a faith

maybe even warms a heart
or two

finally makes sense
and not only
to you

journal

Journal # 12.23.16

I met a friend for coffee this morning, I was not on much sleep, my days have been busy with writing,  work, finding gifts, reading, planning, talking, dreaming, walking. We caught up on our lives and he invited me back to his place to look at some original artwork of his, colorful and imaginative paintings, oils on canvas dating back fifteen years or more. He let me pick out seven of them, and the rest he says he is going to destroy. I gathered they served their purpose. I know better than to try and talk another creative soul out of destruction. I thanked him profusely as he rolled up the canvases and placed them in my arms. When I got home, I tacked every one to the white walls of my apartment, many of which needed some meaning. The counters and floors are now cluttered with holiday gifts which need be wrapped. The air smells of Sumatra I have been roasting for my brother and sister. Why would I call her a sister-in-law, when I can simply call her my sister?

sunset at Walmart
A storm is coming and the rain here will turn to snow in the Sierras, and I will be following its tail to Lake Tahoe, with all of these gifts for my nieces and nephew. Star Wars watches and piggy banks, Hard Candy makeup and alphabet stickers and bling, jump ropes and soccer balls, silly Xmas tee shirts. I really had fun shopping for the kids. Tomorrow I will remember how to wrap a gift properly. Today I will get on my bike, in the rain, and ride up north on the river. I am making a couple hours a day for my novel. I take my chances for naps, and find myself waking from strange dreams to my cats and the sound of the heater. The cats they curl up on the bed, and listen to me recount the stories of my dreams. Or else I stretch and I sing to them. I will kiss them and get out of bed. I cherish the lives alongside my own.

two clicks and a book

I do not write mysteries. Writing is the mystery and a book, a puzzle piece, a small part of being solved. I am wondering if I have what I need to do what I wish to now do? The magic number, I make it fourteen. Two weeks, to get back to you. To immerse myself in the colorful cove of creative process, and finish what I started a little over a year ago. There is a battle on our screens, online, for our eyes, our attention, our desires. When we are tired, they win. I go to do something creative and if I make one mistake, chasing down an email or a tweet – any packet of information – I may be sucked to the bottom of a sloping hill of mud, two clicks away, marching my way up and back to reclaim my sacred land… but always two clicks away. I wonder if I have what it takes to stand my ground? I have all my rations, all my munitions, and all my comrades around me. I have my health and my family, and my faith. I can easily recall when the world came over me, a long shadow before a setting sun. I plodded my way through the deepest night. Lost, I surrendered; and they had mercy on me. I don’t know how or why. I was a pitiful starved creature, lunatic raving and howling, chained to an iron post on a cracked island of asphalt. I was the one who broke dumb from the pack. Now they saw I was no threat and marched me through a wasted land of drought. I focused on the stars of windless night until I was one, too, the smallest and farthest away. And brighter grew. I stretched for the sun out of a cold, dark place only I inhabited. Not at first, but soon I was touched. I found something there I cannot describe. In the poverty of speech one may call it ‘god’ – if only to relate. The thing which keeps me bright. This thing which can keep me up all night. That which helps me shine through darkness. Immerses me in sacred process, helps me hold my ground. In fourteen days or not, two clicks away and shot, from the bottoms ever climbing… I wonder will I find my way, and back to you? Otherwise, this book may live a lonely life in my heart.

couch with netflix

some of my best decisions come outta me when i let go of logic and hold on to that feelin and so was tonite as i went ahead (with only a sliver of ‘proven’ in my pocket) and signed myself up (placed my bet) for the Cali International Marathon this december and the Run The American River Parkway (20 mile) event this november, so now i have 4 months of arduous training ahead which was not part of ‘the plan’ in my head all year, yet i will follow ‘the feeling’ instead cause it seems to make my life alot more interesting. i will be the first in my family to run a marathon so that’s cool, make my family proud. the greater hope i have and the part where the leadership quality in one’s own life appears (leadership as one who makes the unpopular and ever outrageous split decisions which turn out very well for everybody in the end), is not to shelf but rather to impel the big idea – the Book (of course) – i have my heart set upon. how? well, i reached ten miles (on my own time) in my latest run. i’ve been keeping a close eye on the physical as it interacts with my mental and psychological, and it’s been mostly stimulating. object in motion stays in motion kinda theory (which i believe in). yes there have been days lost to these long runs. but what is lost in the immediate aftermath of physical exertion is restored only to complement/supplement the mind and spirit quite soon after hydration and sleep. in these (restorative) conditions the muse is more likely to come out and play, and certainly more reliable than couching (her) with netflix.  my grace period (i gave myself) ends on halloween, what with national novel writing month on its heels. what i’m saying is, if you are leading the way in your life like you oughta, you may be unpopular with yourself but good things will follow, or inspiration follows perspiration (a duller way to say). i am making my moves and enlarging my ‘risks’ for greater ‘rewards’. the populist in me has the simple-minded view that drop-everything-2-focus-on-writing-the-books is the easy answer to all my problems, but the populist has made my life a living hell (in the past) because she’s an idealist and not at all pragmatic. times I so situated myself to carry on her way did not yield any bountiful harvest… i can see… so that my Book(s) may be written, I need only follow the feeling, drop the populist, lead the way, and amp up an already amped and blessed life scenario. are you with me? hold on cause here we go