Finding is losing something else.
I think about, perhaps even mourn,
what I lost to find this.
~ Richard Brautigan ~
Finding is losing something else.
I think about, perhaps even mourn,
what I lost to find this.
~ Richard Brautigan ~
You are “Jajo the Patron Saint of clowns”
Which Mark Ryden Painting Are You?
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Hm. Where to start.
A lovely exhaustion. One bred of things getting accomplished, though they have been consuming my days. Tightening the reigns on the Brigade thing, catching up to it, answering a rediculous amount of emails and kind of loving it for what it is creating. No. For what it is creating, loving it dearly. There are so many brilliant and talented people out there, just looking for an outlet like this – a safe place where they can do what ever they want, and feel a part of somethng. It’s fun to be there for them, to feel the excitement, to hear of the amazing things they have planned, to help the ones who are unsure about themselves find the strength to be who they are.
It makes me wonder how things might have been different for me If I had found somethng like this when I was their age, but hell – I have it now. It started with the Porn Clown Posse, being introduced to it by Jess, and to all of the people that make this place shine so brightly, and encourage everyone to do the same. All of the sudden, I was me. The person, the rediculous ham, loving being able to create and delight – and disturb. As long as it evokes something. Being a part of an incredible group of people, and – most importantly – feeling as if I am a part of them. This is everything I have ever looked for.
Now, I have the honor of helping others do the same thing. This is beauty…
Lucinda. Her name needs to be written in italics. Someone I met entirely accidentally, when I was looking for a house mate the first time. Her plans were changed, but we remained in contact. She began writing the most incredibly beautiful things to me – things that overwhelmed, and made it difficult to write back in fear that I would fall short. Perfect things.
then, she’s here. She finally made it. In meeting her, everything was confirmed and increased. This is her city too. She belongs here. She needs it, and it needs her. Such a beautiful being, fun, delightful, knowing – she does her name justice. The Light. Such a tiny thing, but only physically. Her Self is enourmous, warm, and encompasing. It wraps me up in the way I can wrap my arms around her, almost hugging myself.
Perhaps that is a message she brings. Hug yourself.
I can’t wait to introduce her to everyone.
So much more I would like to write about. Tantra, her words and her beauty and her innocent honesty and all that I haven’t said about her, Michelle, and all of the fresh pain that I thought I had walled and cried through, but believe I never will – nor do I ever want to – Ali, and how yesterday after such a long time we spoke, and we spoke of healing, and for a while we were back to what it was like before, and the way she is able to conjure up all I want to say but can’t to anyone but her – because I know she will always understand, even as young as she is.
FUCK. I’ll figure out that cut thing sooner or later, but not tonight.
Then, to reassure me that all is only a game that I play with the Universe – or more appropriately, a game it plays with me, trying unsuccesfully to make me hate it – within hours of an eviction notice – a notice that has been extended for days thanks to a rediculously cool landlord who loves Bean, but still needs to be a land lord and protect himself; I get a house mate. A gift for my perseverance? A gift because I wouldn’t deny my acceptance that all that is happening these days is a lesson? I don’t know. Sure – of course – I’ve felt self pity and sheer terror, the knowledge that without any doubt that these past few months have been the absolute worst time in my life, but hell – if it weren’t for the slightest glimmer of hope – if it weren’t for dreams – then I would have left long ago.
If it were not for Bean, I have no doubt that I would have. I was so ready, but see – she and I made a pact. Neither of us would die before the other. If I left, then I would need to be certain that she did as well, and well, that just ain’t gonna happen. EVER.
So life, however precarious,
And on top of all that, my new house mate is such a nice thing to look at….
I don’t know how to process this. Part is thrilled for her, wishing her the best. that’s what I should feel, that’s what she deserves, that’s what I do feel, and I will always be there for her, unwaveringly.
but then, the old wound has been opened again, and in her news the forever sorrow brought back fresh and just as potent in it’s yearning, and all I want to do is hold her in my arms again and cry for days like we did before and have each other in the loss…
no. She can’t be here for that now, she has her own things she needs to take care of.
Michelle is pregnant, and going to have her first child.
she said it doesn’t feel as vibrant inside of her as Blue did…
Though I should spend the day entering contact info for The DD and replying to emails, hunched over the computer and hunched over the chandelliers, I believe that I will play hookey from home, and instead
be a bloody meter maid zombie.
Thursday. Almost an hour into it. Eleven hours left.
This is where it gets exciting, like running on empty, the car cutting out, knowing if you can just make it a little bit further, and everything works in your favor, you will get where you need to go and be able to breathe a bit easier as you pull into the gas station, looking ahead to whatever else is out there that gets the blood coursing through your veins, making you realize how alive you are – and knowing that everything will always work out. It has to, and it always has. Hell – I’m still here, aren’t I?
Always an adventure.
A good day, working on the chandeliers, these beautiful pieces of art that now litter my apartment in pieces, depending on me to give them a new life so they can shine again, changing obsolete light sockets for current ones and replacing the old and brittle wiring. It must be more – much more – than 20 years than they were last appreciated in all their glory, as I have never seen bulb sockets such as these. Each one different in the changes I need to make in order for it to come to life again, cutting and grinding metal, so deliciously careful with the gorgeous glass that whispers of a time of Speakeasys, flappers, prohibition, wishing I could see all that went on underneath them, allowing a mind that has only movie references to wander, and think grand things…
Emails – to potential house mates, explaining and pleading, to Europe and UK, answering, encouraging, loving and giving confidence where needed, having an absolute blast with little bits on a certain tribe, hoping they are entertaining…
calls, we’re on for this evening, she says. So happy to be able to see her again, to be able to call her a friend. Some of the others seem to have gone shortly after they vowed to stay… She needs to do other things later, so it will only be short, but simply being around her is enough to please me. There is something about her – a spirit and heart with such an immense strength, yet laced with the honesty of the vulnerable, and being both simultaneously. The knowledge and acceptance of incredible pain, and the knowing that though it is in her, she doesn’t need to let it be her. We meet in this knowing.
As I walk out the door to meet her, there is something that grows inside of me, but has nothng to do with her. I thnk of my current situation, and what I can do about it. There is a strength that builds quickly inside of me, something that hasn’t been felt for a long, long time to this degree. I can feel it surrounding me, enveloping me, and apparently, so can everyone I pass. They all look up. They all feel something, but I can tell that they aren’t sure what by their faces – but they know that there is something. With all the shit that is happening in my life, I finally feel that there is nothing that can take me down, and make me surrender. I breathe.
We eat dinner, crepes at Frjitz, talking little, touching uncontrollaby, finish, and I say we need to leave to find a random wall to slam her up against…
Then. Walking on our way to the BART station, we go to the main branch ot the Library – somethng she said earlier that she would give me a tour of, but i didn’t think it would be tonight. Honestly, I didn’t think it would ever happen, as we all say things that we would love to do together that never happen – but then, we were there. I didn’t realize it until only a few feet away.
Entering the doors – I can still smell it in my heart – the distinct scent of books, a strange combination of musty and pulp, which i have only smelled in breathing gloriously close to a new book – but here, thousands of them, new and old, and the air was perfumed with a million sifferent stories, a million different hearts exposed. She gave me a gloriously slow tour, and I absorebed everything – the sights, the books, looking everywhere and taking it in – and her words, only saying things of importance, only saying things of beauty, and letting me wrap myself around the silence and the soundless words in-between…
Okay, I’m exhausted. There is much more I would like to say, but so much with her requires nothing less than beautiful poetry, and I don;t have that right now. I want to sleep. I could hardly write what I did.
It was a good day.
“Eat love for breakfast
And spit out the seeds
In a circle”
and one day I may tell you about her.
in awe at the beauty of three more Art Deco lamps
just delivered to me
loving that I get to update the wiring
and let them shine again
feeling ultra hip and silly as
I use my sun glasses for eye protection for want of anything better as I carefully grind the metal
and seeing the humor
in now having over $7500.00 of beautiful, fragile art in my apartment
and $1.35 in my pocket.
Thinking that I may have found something new – something I’m good at, something I have the passion for.
I saw it with the benefit, but in the way it consumed my other job made me think that it was a bad thing, and nothing I would venture into again…
But this is good. This is what I feel at home doing, in all aspects – from nurturing those who want to but feel uncomfortable, to having the authority to humble those who think it’s all about them.
A career? Perhaps. Exhausting? undeniably.
Rewarding? More than can be described.
but still – the ominous presence of a brief conversation with my landlord, and three days until i have to produce either a room mate, or $2000.oo. I look at the one dollar bill on my desk, but still, I have a foolish hope – and a knowledge that whatever is supposed to happen, will – but I’m not one to give up.
Still, I’m a bit nervous. I push the anxiety aside, try to be pro-active, and try so fucking hard to believe that things will work out – but it’s down to a very thin wire.
There was one word that was recently “said” to me. A word that made me crumble under the weight of the person who said it, as well as the word itself.
I know I have done some horrible things – but I didn’t think I was bad.
not this bad, but the single worrd resonates…
I’ve explained the perfection
in my detachment
and how it is the first and complete and everything that I know.
It’s what I have done, because it was necessary
and the warnings to you went unheeded.
You won’t find me, nor I you again
though we may find each other
and in our new sight
The memories, I keep and hold dear.
Mak yourself good dreams. I don’t want to lose you, and I will never forget you.
not even a mental outline…
I need to drink less.
I need to bring beauty everywhere i am able to touch.
I create things in places unseen, and as a result,
there are more opportunities offered to me.
Perhaps, there will be travel.
Perhaps, there will be something new.
There is now Lucinda, the light.
There is Kitty, the intuitive and playfull.
And there is myself, the Sea – unknown…
I drink too much.
(from a private tribe, but more appropriate here than there.)
back from a klown healing dinner
where klowns out of klown
said hello and goodbye,
to someone I now am, and someone I used to be.
more people at once
than I’ve seen in over a month, and
it took me hours
to accept myself back in to them,
as they were more readily accepting than I am of me.
Now back to my glorious solitude
the booze and the smokes and my bed
calming me and
slowing a heart because at last
I am home
I am here and
it is safe in here.
I know that who I was is now gone
like so much else and
I will build from the good of what is left
and add the pieces as they come
a strange puzzle
that sometimes requires more than what is conciously available
Lewis Carrol died today in 1888.
Well, It doesn’t look like the full job description will happen – the one that included travel.
I spoke with Amanda a bunch today on the phone and in email, and essentially what I ended up with (though I’m not necessarily complaining, but maybe kinda) is a job which will be difficult, incredibly time consuming, quite frustrating, and with no monetary compensation – or at least none was spoken of. All done from here, which will especially frustrate me, not knowing if the people are doing what they are supposed to be, and having no way, ultimately, to coax them into doing it when the time comes.
I am now responsible for organizing performers for about 26 or something shows in places I’ve never been, to be as much as they can, and create a specific atmosphere that I will only hear of and not be able to see, correct, or control. In languages I don’t speak.
Yet, I accepted. It will be one hell of a challenge. It will be horrible and wonderful at the same time. It will take me away from what I should be doing here, which could be easily excused if I were there, making sure they lived up to the promises I made to everyone involved. All I can do is hope.
There is still a vague possibility that I may be able to go, and I am holding onto that dearly. They have asked a person who is a friend of theirs to travel with them and occupy the extra position I would have held, and though whe hasn’t answered yet, Amanda believes it will be a yes. (Or, she could meet with a horrible acident, heh. heh.)
I do understand their unease – or at least Brian’s – because Amanda said she would be happy to have me – but being stuck on a tour bus for a month with someone you don;t know or don’t know the mental stability of is a position that needs to be considered, and I understand that.
I only wish that they new me better. I think that might change things.
There were a few hours today where I felt I had made a dreadful mistake in accepting, and still, that feeling hasn’t entirely been washed away – but if i step away from this because it is so little of what I want, then possibilities for the future would all be washed away. She was talking about another tour after their next CD cam out, which would include Japan – and she also spoke of having a permanent person on tour with them to organize the performers for it…
Alas, This is what I accepted, in full knowledge of of the task in front of me. Part of it was because I want to surprise myself, and part of it is because I don’t feel as if they have anyone better than me for it anymore. part of it is because i know that there will be parts of it that will be fin, and hopefully i may get to see some pictures of what I helped happen.
But – I get to help. I have comitted myself to it, i believe with all my heart in the beauty of it, and I will do all that I can, and more.
It rips me apart to probably not be able to tour with them. It couldn’t have been a better time for it regarding my life right now.
There is still the “possibility” for something happening in the future, but I’ve recently gotten a distaste for dreams and hopes, and don’t depend on them anymore.
This is where I would have gone:
Liverpool Liverpool Uni Academy
London The Scala
Travel / Off
Holland, Amsterdam Melkweg
Belgium, Gent Handelsbeurs
France, Paris La Boule Noire
Italy, Milan Transylvania
Italy, Treviso New Age
Austria, Vienna Flex
Czech Republic, Prague Abaton
Travel / Off
Germany, Hamburg Logo
Germany, Dresden Star Club
Germany, Cologne Gebaude
Germany, Frankfurt Mousonturm
Germany, Munich Atomic Cafe
Switzerland, Winterthur Gaswerk
France, Lyon Le Transbordeur
France, Sannois L’Espace Michel Berger(together with Teen Machine )
France, Mulhouse Le Noumatrouff
France, Tourcoing Le Grand Mix
France, Bordeaux Le Rock School Barbey
France, Angouleme Le Mars Attack
France, Marseille Le Poste A Gallen
If anyone knows anyone in any of these places with a passion for making the world around them a little bt better in what they can offer, please let me know.
I need to do this. I need to do it incredibly well…