Rolling, II

In Denver now, looks like I might be here for a couple days trying to earn money to get to Boston. Things are pretty interesting, to say the least.

Sarah headed out to the airport this morning, with all the money we made from busking last night and the account that the money donated for the purpose of getting me to boston was just about to be transfered to, leaving me with a little over $5 in change and a half tank of gas.

Don’t think I did anything wrong, save for the fact that most of everything didn’t go exactly as planned. Last night we were fine until it was time again to sleep in the van…

Hoping desperately that I can get the DD pay by Western Union. Otherwise…

I don’t know.

Fuck – I’ll make it to Boston, this ain’t shit. Just a different situation, no worse, no better than any of the other adversities I’ve faced.

Bean is rocking, enjoying the ride and all of the different places we get to stop – all of the different smells – the countryside, the deserts…

God, it’s good to have her back.

More later.

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Rolling

Van problems, necessary repairs before the journey. Good thing they happened before we got on the road. Sleeping in the van on 24th & Duboce because of a bad coolant leak. Got it fixed, belt broke, got it fixed, finally dropped off the postcards from Marie to Whitney, picked up Bean, The Best Dawggy in The Whole Wide World from Patty & Shawn who have been caring so wonderfully for her these past few months, and just arrived in Vegas.

A day late & 270.00 short, but we’re on the way.

Found a place to park at a hotel, set up the tentby the van, made certain that Bean is FAR more comfortable than us, and now are about to collapse.

Busking in Vegas had better pay if we want to make it…

the email is off to Amanda. We’ll see what happens now. Don’t fuck with me, little girl. All or nothing. I’m not fucking “admin”. You can find a thousand other people begging to be only that. I’m not one of them. Open your eyes and make your decisions carefully.

tomorrow, I’m off to Boston. We’ll see what happens then.

it’s as if time has suddenly been compressed, two days left and my, but hasn’t it come and gone quickly?

I try not to let on, try not to let her see how nervous I am. Business. Take care of what needs to happen between now and Friday morning. Once I.m moving the fear will be left behind as it always is, but now it swirls around making certain that every tiny thing that can go wrong is played out in vivid color in the hours where I should be sleeping, eyes closed in desperation and hope but the scenes keep playing over and multiplying. No, just take care of what needs to be done. Easy during the day…

I need to get on the fucking road.

Still so much to do before I leave…

6

days.

From another email. This made me laugh out loud. A rare occurence.

me “Hope you’re groovy!”

(reply) “Like cordoroy!”

Sacred Songs / The Brigade, my Children

From a recent email, typo’s and all:

The deluge has begun, and i find myself being brought out of a slumber
laced with ennui and remembering who i am. The blood is pumping again,
and I love it.

I think I’ll start my next LJ entry with that.

No one needs to tell me, but I am always appreciative when I hear it.
The emils I’m getting – people who have been limping along finally
breaking down their wallls and becoming incredible, that’s what I
need, that’s what I thirst for, that’s where I fine my passion. My
gods, girl – sometimes I find tears of happiness falling as I see what
is happening.

=================

It has begun again, and reminds me of who I am, of why I am. It isn’t the necessity or intensity of the move in eight days, it isnt the worry that we might not make it, it isn’t anything but the way I see people grow around me. From a tribe that I needed to start to this, I find my calling. The old black man sitting on a ramshackle porch smoking a corncob pipe and offering eternal wisdom comes in many ways. That is what I wanted to be, that is what I am. I light my last cigarette and watch the smoke curl. It’s not a pipe. It doesn’t need to be. i’m that man I wanted to be. I live my dreams. My wings unfold and I fly, I fly in the Sea. I need to get back there before I go. Alone or with someone who knows that they shouldn’t talk to me, shouldn’t be around me. I loathe the trivial and mundane. Leave me with my thoughs at this time or be like her and her singing on my birthday last year. I will never forget that, the song that washed over me as the Ocean did. One with so many years behind has so many memories.I wish I could remember all of them.

A new breath and I find it humorous as i lose it so easily, but when it’s time to step up and the need for me comes again I am there and I am who i am. I thirst for this, and it comes to me. There is nothing that could ever replace it. You haven’t seen what i have, These people growing, reaching inside, becoming like I always need to, becoming more.

A difference will be made. Having no blood of my own, they have become it, and they are my children. Strange how things happen.

Strange.

I need to try to sleep. Much to do tomorrow.

I leave in eight days. Sarah arrives tomorrow night. I leave? What the fuck am I thinking?

I know I need to. I have been reassured.

Good night.

Well I'll be damned.

Maybe he’s my mom?

You’re Brian Eno.
You’re a little reclusive maybe, a little quieter
than most people…
But man, who needs outside entertainment when your
brain is like KABOOM all the time? You are
innovative, creative, and intelligent. You
dress flamboyantly, gravitating towards large
feathers and tinsel. Everyone respects you, and
looks up to you. We are not worthy, we are not
worthy…

Which rad old school 70’s glam icon are you? (with pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

Well I'll be damned.

Maybe he’s my mom?

You’re Brian Eno.
You’re a little reclusive maybe, a little quieter
than most people…
But man, who needs outside entertainment when your
brain is like KABOOM all the time? You are
innovative, creative, and intelligent. You
dress flamboyantly, gravitating towards large
feathers and tinsel. Everyone respects you, and
looks up to you. We are not worthy, we are not
worthy…

Which rad old school 70’s glam icon are you? (with pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

Hear Ye, hear ye!!!

And ye and ye, and ye over there, too. Get your finger out of your goddamned ass and pay attention. The Farewell/Birthday explosion has been moved to a new location. Better! Stronger! Hot-Tubbier!

Date & Time: Sunday, August 21, 2005
9:00 PM
Location: The Cracktory
SF Bay Area

The last location fell through, so after a bit of ohshitwhatthefuckarewegoingtodonow, we have a new one for it, thanks to Whitney.

Yes, beautiful people, Whitney has not only gotten us a new space for the party, but – it’s the Cracktory!

Hot tub, huuuuuge indoor swing, danger, excitement, romance, laughter and of course, forgetting. Car chases! Exploding things! Blood and Booty! Aliens! Klowns! Pirates! Hungry Hippo’s! And, just to make certain no one is annoyed to the point of homicide (suicide is negotiable, but only in the “Harold & Maude” style) there will be NO MIMES ALLOWED – unless they are really into pain.
(HA! What’s your safeword, MIME??? Can’t say it, can ya??? THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!)

This will blend in to the Aaaaaarrrr-B-Que, which is during the day starting at 12:00pm. (Yeah, another Pirate themed thing. I guess a person can never have enough booty, eh?) There will probably be no definitive line between the two, except when people start coming in less piratey gear – maybe – but come to say Happy Birthday to Whit, Adiosa (& happy b-day) to me, and have a loverly time. Bring stunts, gags, hootch, nibblin’s, schtuff and people to eat, drink, and play with. Amy & Kelly have vowed to make me cry with their Musical Saw and Ukelele duet, I’ll kidnap a magician from the Wharf (really) and will spit some fire – if you want, bring your friggin’ poi or staffs or whatever to spin outside, dress the fuck up in your finest finery, and come play with us. You won’t be seein’ me again for a long long time, and Whitney only turns 18 once.

SO, here are the NEW location details – Cracktory = 1580 Custer at Rankin in bayview.

101 to cesar chavez east -> right on evans -> left on rankin -> drive to the end of the street and don’t drive into the creek.

Whitney’s and my shindig begins around 9ish, it’s still BYOEverything, as I need to spend the money I have on friggin’ gas to get across all the red states in this country. If you can, please bring a little extra to share. That would rock. And someone buy new boots for Whitney. Really. She needs them. It’s embarassing to be seen with her in her old ones.

See you there! (Or not.)

Lovelovelove,

~ kSea & Whitney

Sha Sha Shunday!

I’m going to this on Sunday eve:

http://www.shashahigby.com/shashasched.htm

Anyone wish to join me?

It keeps getting closer to me, and I to it. I watch the days go by and the aprehension builds, but it is shadowed by excitement.

Eight months. Eight months without a home, without an address to call mine. Eight months of sacrifice, of taking what people have given, and this isn’t who I am. I want to be the giver. It’s been difficult to accept, but necessary. Sometimes things aren’t too easy when you give your life to follow a dream. Maybe that’s why I see so many people who have given up on theirs. I was almost one of them. I was one of them, but my dreams are stronger than I am. They always have been, and at times I dreamt that my life could be something different than what it has become. I can’t dream in that way anymore. It could destroy. Not that way anymore. Ever. Other ways. Different dreams that only harm me to follow, but only temporarily. Eight months? Nothing. A drop in the bucket that I thought would have been filled long ago, then filled with ashes and memories that someone else carried.

At Whitney’s now, as I have been for the past week or so – I don’t know. Probably longer, but time in a sense is nothing I have payed much attention to. I sit at Whitney’s, realizing as I look around that I really need to clean this place up tomorrow. She returns on the 13th, and I return to San Francisco for my final stay here, a temporary sublet before I drive to Boston with Sarah & Bean. Everythng up until last night hs been stress, as I didn’t have anything to drive there in. Strange how I make plans before everything is perfect, but that is my way, and yeah, it always works out, when it is supposed to. Sometimes it isn’t. I don’t know when those times are, so it is always pretty fucking exciting – especially this time, since Sarah is coming out on a one-way ticket bought a month ago. A month-ish. Somewhere around there. Time. Fuck time. I have egg on my shirt. That is now, becoause I noticed it now. It’s been there since this morning. I haven’t had eggs since. Only now I care.

In Whitney’s driveway sits a van. I drove it here last night, Betsy drove me to get it. It was a lovely transaction. I offered her fifty more than the 900 asked to hold it, but when the person who came to look at it offfered 500, she called me back dropping the price to 750 if I got it that evening. That evening was last night, and I have a van. I love the way she does business. I didn’t argue with the $200 discount for no reason. The van is my escape. The van will take me to where I need to be to do my job better. Talk face to face with Amanda. Email is spotty, and I hate the phone. Look into my eyes and I will tell you what I feel, talk to me on a phone and I will only agree to get the fuck of of it. I don’t like phones. Yeah, that sounds great until that time alone in bed where the mind is finally aboe to think abut it and I can’t sleep because there are too many questions and I know she will be on tour much of the time but fuck – I will have an ofice, and I will have a home, and I will have BEAN, and…

her. Tighter and tighter my mind and heart wraps around her, seeing her everywhere, my fist in her hair, I find myself checking my pocket to make certain that the Sun is there. I feel foolish in ways but I know better than that, I believe in her and I believe in this and as much as I dream I don’t believe easily. I have given her words and I appreciate that hers don’t come easily. The proclomation is diluted in its repition. There once was a time where I knew this, but I’m learning again. I’m remembering. I do, but I wont tell you. You’ll know because I’ll show you. I tell you every day and you don’t hear. I don’t want you to.

I read the book that Cole has given me, started a few days ago and twenty pages to go. She knows. I will start again the second I end. Sometimes repitition is good. The words are right, the words are what my mind thirsts for and sometimes, those times where my mind is quiet and I can escape everything else, these are my words. I just don’t know them anymore.I’ll learn again.

I will learn the words again.

I sleep now.

I love you.

Beautiful people of the Bay Area…

…I bid you all farewell…

On August 26th, 18 days from this writing, I will be hopping into a van with Bean and all of my belongings to continue the path that this adventure has opened for me.

I’m moving to Boston.

I will not be an easy thing to watch San Francisco and its people disappear in the rear view mirror, but I will bring all of the love and beauty that I have experienced here and do my best to bring that energy to the people there.

I will be having a farewell celebration on Sunday, August 21st, so I can gather as many people in one place as possible to say my adieu’s, and wish you all good fortune on your own journeys, and maybe have a drink or two, if the mood strikes us.

BUT WAIT! There’s MORE!

Not only will this be a farewell gathering, but it will also be a combined celebration of two birthdays – Whitney’s on the 28th and my own, which is on Sept. 5th. May as well take care of it all in one fell swoop, yes? Gonna be quite an affair, and the last one in S.F. for me for a while…’

Costumes and fancy dress encouraged and very much appreciated, strange and bizarre (or just good) acts welcomed (please contact me!) and whatever else you feel like bringing to the mix. I’ll probably be spitting fire at some point (just because I like to) and maybe even on stilts. There will be a dear friend there that’s flying out from Boston to be my driver and companion on the way back East, so let’s give her a good taste of this amazing city.

It will be at the Trans-Interval Industries warehouse, (Mateo’s place) 1284 W. Grand Ave. (@ Poplar st.) Oakland, CA 94607 Beginning at 9:00 and ending, um…’ eventually.

This will be a bring your own everything event, and hey, while you’re at it, why not bring a little more for other people?

Hope to see you there! (Otherwise I won’t for a loooong time…’)

Lovelovelove,

~ Casey