It is in these words that I look to lose myself, to lose thought, to lose logic and give a voice to something inside, beyond those things. Inside or outside. Is there a difference? No. It is the same. If you know how to listen and be it is all one and the flesh is not a barrier.

The mind, these days, is. It is far too noisy, full of questions that when answered only breed more, full of questions that will never have answers until I stop looking so desperately for them. This is true because I tell myself that it is.

I ride through the streets, in love with the magick of this city. In love with the beauty and destruction, each day looking out my kitchen window at a house across the street literally suffocating in vines that are now blooming beautiful yellow spots of flowers from the roof and down the side, the front of the house lacking windows, gutted – completely lifeless but for the life that it is wrapped in. It is shelter for no one.
I ride through the streets, in love with the people who seldom fail to wave and offer a sincere “how ya doin’?”.
I ride through the streets wondering when I will leave, knowing there are things that I need to do elsewhere, knowing that there are better opportunities to grow in the life i have chosen to live.
I ride through the streets, knowing at some point I will have to go, and wondering how I ever will. My heart grows heavy only thinking about it. I have never lived in a city that seduced me as this one has, and I have never lived in a city that the thought of leaving carried so much weight – but love is like that, I guess. Hearts will be broken, tears will fall. I’ll write to her but she won’t write back, I already know this – but I will feel her becon, call to me. I have no lust for people anymore, only personal growth and New Orleans. There is only so much that she can offer. Someday soon, I don’t know when. Today I found some writing of mine on the back of a Mardi Gras flier announcing the Krewe de Noir & Krewe du Boo parade. The writing spoke of loneliness – “…he would dream if he could, if sleep came – if sleep ever came. He thinks of her touch, understanding, lasting – then realizes that he doesn’t know who she is. He never has…”.
Then, there was Mardi Gras. A few months after that, I noticed New Orleans. She holds me. She understands. In her, and only her, I have finally found the romance I so desperately need, and
she will last…

I don’t know when. I never do. At the end of August it will be a year since I left San Francisco, but I don’t think that I will return there. Then again, I honestly have no idea where I will end up, but it will need to be California to take care of some oooold legal shit and get my license back. Just waiting for some cosmic “this way, now” arrow…


On paper it seems as if I have been busy. Statuing three days a week, tending to Camerons’ practice space while she is away, scheduled practice with the others from Cirkus Morpheus on Wednesdays along with my own personal time, making soundtracks for our performances, stretching, core exercises, finally getting to a yoga class again tomorrow, then tomorrow night the fire performance in the amphitheater across from Jackson Square, a stilting gig yesterday and probably one on Saturday, money coming in, for the first time in a long, long while not worrying about rent and even bringing my bank account to a positive balance after racking up almost $400 in overdraft fees (a bunch of itty-bitty card purchases & a surprise check deposit – my own negligence) – and still eating well. Feeling stronger & healthier than I have since long before I left San Francisco and apparently looking the same way – but still, it isn’t enough. Still, I am unsatisfied. I need more. More performance work, more practice, more working out, more yoga – I need more discipline…

Sheesh. Whine bitch moan. Just do it, ya putz.
Whatever. done for now.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s