missed

just talked to my pa. He just called.

He’s in town for a few days from San Diego, leaving tomorrow. Had a nice dinner with him, my sis and “the best brother-in-law that anyone could wish for” the night before last. Kinda funny, that. Each of them at three different times throughout the evening asked “So where ya livin’ these days, Case?” Answer: Right out front, until I drive away, then… wherever I park.

Three seperate blank stares. “No, really – I’m fine. This is almost perfect for now – comfortable, I don’t need to worry about intruding on friends, and my home gets me where I want to go. No mortgage, I own it – and the only utility bills is the fuel that this beautiful beast thirsts for. Really, I’m fine.

My sis, Bro-in-law and pops are your somewhat typical people, everything by the books, lives lived by the numbers, catholic school for the son & daughter (can I get an amen?) a lovely home in the Sunset district.
Beautiful people, and gods, I love them dearly – but hell, something went incredibly wrong or right with the boychild. I do believe that they are finally understanding it, and have been for a while – though not entirely comprehending.

Each time I go there I want to give them great news – this time I spurted on about being flown to New Orleans, our shows in Santa Barbara and L.A., of the festival in September that Vau de Vire has been confirmed for as a featured guest. Yeah, things are good, don’t worry, I’m happy, I’ll make it. Everything’s fine. “How’s your health?” “Well, I *feel* great.” No more details. Good. all is fine. All is fine.

I just talked to my pa. He just called.

He went down to the Wharf, looking for me, but I wasn’t there. Woke up late, exhausted from the previous days there, and need to head into the city to buy fire breathing fuel, pick up and drop off tickets for tonights Spectra Ball, drop of a wallet to a friend, errands. I wanted the Wharf, (that bitch) but can’t pull it off today. Two gigs tonight. Lots of shit to do before.

I just apologized to my pa, I thought I would be able to be down there. He wanted to see his son doing what he does. My heart still hurts, the tears still run down my face. I wanted him to see me. See what I can do. See? See their smiles, hear their laughter? Do you see the way the childrens’ faces light up? How that couple just stood there, smiling, watching in wonder and appreciation? Do you see this the way I do? Can you feel it? Look, pops, this is me, this is the magick I have been given the talent to create. Your son is doing well.
 Gods, I wanted him to see.

I just talked to my pa. He just called.

He said that though he worries, he believes in me. He said that in some people he doesn’t see hope, but he sees it in me. He sais that he is amazed by the positive attitude I am somehow able to keep, and that he learns from me.

I just talked to my pa.

He said that he is proud of me.

and now I can’t stop crying.

“Mother mother”, by Tracy Bonham

Mother mother can you hear me Im just calling to say hello
Hows the weather hows my father am I lonely heavens no
Mother mother are listening just a phone call to ease your mind
Life is perfect never better distance making the heart grow blind

When you sent me off to see the world where you scared that I might get hurt
Would I try a little tobacco would I keep on hiking up my skirt

Im hungry
Im dirty
Im losing my mind
Everythings fine

Im freezing
Im starving
Im bleeding death
Everythings fine

Yeah, Im working, making money Im just starting to build a name
I can feel it around the corner I could make it any day
Mother mother can you hear me yeah Im sober sure Im sane
Life is perfect never better still your daughter still the same

If I tell you what you want to hear will it help you to sleep wellat night
Are you sure that Im your perfect dear now just cuddle up and sleep tight

Im hungry
Im dirty
Im losing my mind
Everythings fine

Im freezing
Im starving
Im bleeding to death
Everythings fine

I miss you
I love you.

and in other news…

I love having a working knowledge of electonics. I know the shit, yo. Logic. Virgo. Hello?
Not to mention $10,000+ in general mechanical and electrical theory, centering on Harley Davidsons. If you can fix a Harley, You can fix any american non-computerized thang. I ya ain’t schtupit.

Damn, what a spaghetti clusterfuck this wiring is on the van.Still though, it tittilates me, and I long for the day I have the time to spend on making everything work. Soon, I hope.

Funny thing – when I was visualizing the van I needed to get from New Orleans to Burning Man, the picture in my head was always of driving ont to the Playa, my windo down, arm hanging outside.

The van that came to me had no drivers side window.

This time, I was a bit more carefull – Careful – whatever – and visuallized the windo there, and up.

Well, it’s there, and it’s up – but it doesn’t work. The only window that doesn’t. It won’t go down. The guy who sold the van to me swore it did before, and I believe him. He’s an honest kind of fellow…

I need to work on my visualization technique.

Buuuut anyway, I was able to cut and splice and cut and splice, measure current crimp fasteners clip and (why does the current drop there?) and find the wires in this wirepastavomit – and get the only thing I have bought for the van besides a bajillion dolars in fuel – my beautiful power inverter which makes the 12v current into a computer powering savvy 110v. I have ‘puter!

Happy boy am I.

And wouldn’t you know it? Clotho fits perfectly into one of the overhead storage spaces, about 4 inches from the wires that wil power her.

I love my van. I really, really do.

Can you convert gasoline engines into vegetable oil? Dunno. Signing off for a bit, but looking into that before I go.

All work and no pay makes kSea…

Wharf, oh Wharf – why hast thou forsaken me?

We once were pals – I remember those times fondly – down at pier 41, the summer of ’05… there were times I had to force myself to stay away from you, and every day on the train towards you was met with anticipation for the beauty that day would bring.

You’ve changed. Of course, I have as well, but I think for the better – unlike you. You have started hanging around with unappreciative oafs, people who stand and stare for minutes on end and then saunter away as if I was simply there for their amusement. Idiotic fucks who push me from behind, or throw an empty pack of matches into my box. I swear, I have never accumulated so many pennies so quickly.

I keep looking for the answers to this in me – am I not giving enough to you? Am I not still enough, quiet enough? You know, don’t you, that it is a two way street. I work hard at having the right energy, of radiating love and beauty – but it has gotten more difficult. Incredibly difficult.

Of course, there are those times that you remind me of what it’s all about – the 80ish year old woman, dressed in black on black elegance, who stood in fromt of me and whispered “You are the best one here! Beautiful”! and, of course, the children – all of the children – but what’s with their parents these days?

“Is he real, Tommy? You think he’s real or a statue? Go touch him!” TOUCH??? No, ubercheaptouristingratefuckhead – TIP.

The moments of beauty are there, and I savor them. Either a sincere and beautiful smile, a lovely compliment or the infrequent five dollar bill which tells me that what I gave was worth more than the obligatory buck – I roll these moments around on my hearts tongue tasting every last drop, every succulent atom of them, preserving them as long as possible. Those moments are why I do this. Why I still do it, and always will. These moments are the ones that enable me to get out there when it’s the last thing I want to do sometimes, but these days, it’s more out of desperation to pay back debts I owe in a timely manner than anything else. I try however to put those thoughts behind me when I step up on my box and focus on the people and what I want to give to them. We all know the strange sense of desperation and how it repells. Go to any bar…

Still, oh Wharf, I will change for you. Try something new. At the reccomendation of a friend down there, Kenny da Klown, I have downloaded some David Bowie (for some reason my external hard drive – where just about *all* of my music is, isn’t being recognized by my computer anymore…) and for you, I will temporarily the beautiful Bach Cello suites and selections from Cirque du Soleil for a more upbeat type of music – and Kenny says I should definitely do Bowie. Okay, Easy enough.

Perhaps we might find a compromise – I’ll change the music I play to something that has words and doesn’t confuse and scare away tourists with it’s unfimiliar beauty, andin turn, you fill up my tip box with more than the completely absurd and pitifully low amounts of tips I’ve been getting.

You dig?

Oh – and by the way, Wharfy-wharf – in the slim times this week, I’ve been thinking about trying to put together a fire performance – but that takes gab, so I really need to work on that, and I will – and if you *don’t* start filling up my tip box the way it should be, then I swear, I’m going to set yours, and all of those idiotic, ungrateful, inbred people that you have invited down – I’m going to set all your asses on fire.

Do we have a deal? Good.

It starts tomorrow, first thing. I want to have to take money out of my box like I used to do because it was getting too full.

Nice doin’ business with you.

And no more fucking pennies, unless they come with a whole pocketfull of change.

New Orleans, we're coming!

Airline tickets bought. Show confirmed. Plans made.  Just a tiny bit over a month away.

Hell, YEAH!

Had a meeting tonight about it with the Gooferman folk, and I found out that the budget has been stretched so far as to not allow room for a hotel, so we’re going to be needin’ a place to rest our weary heads, and costumes, makeup, and gear.

There will be seven of us – Boe and Vegas of Gooferman, Neil, the young-un, who is a photographer, meself, Christine, an aerialist, and a couple of very cute belly dancer/fire eaters coming down from Atlanta to join us for the show.

Would any of you NOLA folk happen to have room for a couple of us or more? Preferably in the FQ, of course – as we’ll have a bunch of schtuff to tote around. We’ll be coming in on Monday, April 3rd – Four are leaving on Friday to go to a wedding in San Diego, two are leaving anytime they want to head back up to Atlanta, and I’m sticking around until the following Tuesday morning to make sure I get as much NOLA & Friends time in as I can.

We’re all very clean and respectful, wash almost daily, are potty trained, and I promise not to breathe fire indoors. Or stilt, for that matter, but that’s mainly because I’ve found that ceiling fans hurt.

So, yeah – anyone happen to have some extra space, or perhaps know of anyone who has some, or, (ahem) just maaaybe, an empty house in the Quarter that could use the warmth of some inhabitants for a brief time and will leave it cleaner than it was?

We unfortunately (at the time of this writing) no extra scratch, but very likely could come up with at least a bit – or something from San Francisco perhaps? Some sourdough bread? One of those stupid Alcatraz shirts? Absolutely anything with a rainbow flag on it?

Please let me know, and thanks!

New Orleans, we're coming!

Airline tickets bought. Show confirmed. Plans made.  Just a tiny bit over a month away.

Hell, YEAH!

Had a meeting tonight about it with the Gooferman folk, and I found out that the budget has been stretched so far as to not allow room for a hotel, so we’re going to be needin’ a place to rest our weary heads, and costumes, makeup, and gear.

There will be seven of us – Boe and Vegas of Gooferman, Neil, the young-un, who is a photographer, meself, Christine, an aerialist, and a couple of very cute belly dancer/fire eaters coming down from Atlanta to join us for the show.

Would any of you NOLA folk happen to have room for a couple of us or more? Preferably in the FQ, of course – as we’ll have a bunch of schtuff to tote around. We’ll be coming in on Monday, April 3rd – Four are leaving on Friday to go to a wedding in San Diego, two are leaving anytime they want to head back up to Atlanta, and I’m sticking around until the following Tuesday morning to make sure I get as much NOLA & Friends time in as I can.

We’re all very clean and respectful, wash almost daily, are potty trained, and I promise not to breathe fire indoors. Or stilt, for that matter, but that’s mainly because I’ve found that ceiling fans hurt.

So, yeah – anyone happen to have some extra space, or perhaps know of anyone who has some, or, (ahem) just maaaybe, an empty house in the Quarter that could use the warmth of some inhabitants for a brief time and will leave it cleaner than it was?

We unfortunately (at the time of this writing) no extra scratch, but very likely could come up with at least a bit – or something from San Francisco perhaps? Some sourdough bread? One of those stupid Alcatraz shirts? Absolutely anything with a rainbow flag on it?

Please let me know, and thanks!

dancing past the waves

the days have been good. The van (as yet unnamed, but I really dig the suggestion by

 – though I need to think of a proper anagram) keeps becoming more and more appreciated.
The later part of today was spent in S.F., mainly to pick up a bag that I had to leave at one of the houses I stayed at as I couldn’t carry everything. I was hoping the white shirt I use to statue might be in it, as it has gone a-missing – which was somewhat humorous this weekend down at the wharf, at least for me. I didn’t know it was missing until after I had picked up my street gear from Anastasia, and was getting ready in the van. (OH, the VAN – MY VAN!!!) Not finding the shirt anywhere, and having no idea wher it could have gone – which house I stayed in, falling off my stuff as I pulled my cart from one place to the next – no idea…

Most importantly, No Shirt for the costume.

I thought of my options, the situation. I had found a parking place not too far from where I set up these days, it was Saturday, I desperately need the money to make good on loans.

No shirt.

Hmm.

I began thinking of when I first started to statue – with not much more than the shirt and my billowy skirt, and makeup. Pieces and parts safety pinned, sleeves to the shirt, black boots – I was a mess compared to these days, but still – people stopped, people smiled. I still remember the first time in San Francisco, I tried the Cable Car stop on Powell St. & Market with Naia. A commonly cold, windy night – and it was then, with the wind, that I realized that I would need to get wome white pants, as well. Some people certainly got more than they bargained for as I was doing the best accidental Marilyn impression I tried not to do…

I chuckled to myself, put on the two thermal underwear shirts that I wear under the costume shirt, kept smiling, kept laughing, and called it good enough.

It was actually a fun lesson – here I am, so proud of the way the pieces of my statue costume have come together over the years, of the ways I have refined my performance and continue to daily, of the way I had grown so comfortable to hitting the streets, knowing through the smiles I receive simply walking to work that I make people happy, that I look good, that I am just a bit of magick and wonder and beauty and a good feeling in their lives, if only for a second… and yeah, while the thermal underwear probably didn’t necessarily pull the costume together, I still shared smiles, I still made the young girls blush as they put some money in my box, waited with anticipation not knowing what I would do – then catching and holding their eyes,and blowing a kiss.
Simple, but for that moment they are the only thing that matters, and I think that most of them know it. For that brief moment, there is nothing but them and me. All the energy I have, all of my heart, everything I have is focused on them. I don’t think about my situation, I don’t think about my debt, I don’t think about anything. I draw them in, they are the only thing in my world, and we share that beautiful moment.

Highlights of this past weekend:
A child, a little girl, perhaps around 18 months, perhaps 24, in her fathers arms, looking over his shoulder. She’s looking at me, one of the most adorable babyfat faces in her confused frown as she tries to figure out what is going on. She keeps staring, pouty lips and overblown baby cheeks – but then I look at her, and though they haven’t tipped me, as her fathers head is turned I catch her inquisitive eyes and blow a kiss, smile my most sincere and warm smile, and give a little wink. She blinks, her brow furrows – and then still seeing me smiling at her, her face lights up. Her babyfatcheeks expand as her smile pushes them out of the way to wrap around my heart; her eyes light up and catch the sun, and I was blessed with one of the most beautiful and innocent smiles I have ever seen. The wonder of a childs heart. That is where we connected.

A boy of around seven or eight seeing my box, screaming “MONEY!!!” and almost diving for it. Good thing his mom had good reflexes. He was cute as hell.

The guy – his name is Russ, who caught me on break while driving by and said that he has a statue that looks exactly like my character. He runs a fishing/tour boat at the wharf. Nice guy. He said he’ll bring the statue down.

Everyone. Everyone who stopped and smiled.

The weekend was busy with people, but they weren’t exactly generous. Lots of appreciation, little money. I talked to other people who depend on tourist business, and they said the same. This needs to change. It frightens me. This is my meat, my constant. Over the weekend I made a total of $100 – which is far, far below average. Less than half – but things will work out. They always do. This weekend hit me hard though, as I have loan commitments to come through with and I don’t want to screw that up. I won’t. I’ll make it happen – though it may be a day or two later than I thought.

And the Great Universal Ooh Aah covers my ass, I think. A gig scheduled for Friday which would pay incredibly well is cancelled due to permit stuff – not some small thing, mind you – the Spring Schwing put on by Exotic Erotic Ball. A big chunk of scratch that I was depending on, poof !- but then, and email today from Mike of Vau de Vire – a paid gig on Saturday, details to follow. Working Spectra Ball on Friday, but no money, only comp tickets – which I will do my best to sell (interested?)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wow. Sidetracked like… like… like a sidetracked guy.

The Van becomes. It’s the pieces that I put into it that makes it mine, makes it my heart, my home. My home has always been filled with pieces of those that I love – small things, but things that mean everything to me. Like I have said before, i’m a sentimental fuck – and I am a part of everyone in my life. They are a part of me.

Today, on the shift arm of my van which was missing a knob, I makd a few small modifications and it now has the beautiful cut glass doorknob that

 gave me many moons ago, with my intention of making it into the head of a cane. I touch her when I go from park to drive. And baby, I drive.

On the dash now is a beautiful stylized skull that

 sent me while I was in New Orleans, keeping the way clear.

Memories. Loves. Remember everything. I keep everything, I try. Everyone in my life. Remember everything. I can’t. I want a piece of you to call me back. I want to remember my struggles, I want to remember my love I want to remember how much i can love. It grows, fades, waxes, wanes. Sometimes I just wamt to go, but not now. Not now. I can’t wait to give everything back in some way. NO – not back – forward. Forward, forever.

We dance. We enter calm water, the Sea – and it’s easy so we step forward – then the waves, the challenges, try to push us back. Try to make the calm of the ocean unreachable. Hell, it would be so easy to just go back to the mundane shore, wouldn’t it? Go through the waves, find the open Sea. Find the peace in its’ gentle rocking, and fuggin’ ROCK with
it! Go further, reach, dream, believe, keep swimming, keeep dancing. Same thing. Keep going forward, at all costs.

Get past the waves. I learned this lesson at an early age, growing up as a surfer. Get past the break. Just… get past the break. Breathe, and don’t just sit there – study the way things are happening that day and work with the way it is breaking. Every day is different, every day is magickal. PAY ATTENTION TO NOW.  Nothing else matters when everything depends on the perfect ride, the perfect wave, and gods, I have had them – I have. Not only surfing, but adoring life in general.

Get past the break, get to calm seas – then jump on anything that propells you forward and do it, return, with more passion than you have ever felt.

THIS is magick. This is the magick that I know. I am uncomfortable. I like it this way – I am one of the few that thrive in the unknowing.
I am one of the few that follow my bliss, at all costs.

Join me.

Because Whitney is cruel and tagged me…

and knows that I don’t have any of *my* books close by…

The Taggy Booky Meme Thing:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next three sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.
6. Tag five other people to do the same.

“”It’s round boys, it’s round. We knew it all along.” Cezanne showed the viewer objects seen from a certain angle in a certain light and they attacked his canvasses with umbrellas at the first exhibition.”

From Three-Fisted – Tales of “BOB” — Short Stories in the Subgenious Mythos

(Luckily, this book was pretty much the exact same distance away as “Teach Yourself TCP/IP”.)

Ummm – tagging. Hell.

I tag five of everyone. It’s up to you to determine which five.

Answer.

Someone, some lovely woman, who gave me money in my plea asked if I had found a home. Asked if the money whe gave me went to a good purpose. It took me a day to respond, because I wanted to give her some meat, a reason, something tangible.

To all of those who loaned or gave me scratch, I can’t say enough thank- you’s. I’m not one at naming names, but you know whou you are – and I probably will soon anyway.

Fuggit – I will now.

Dave(!), Slim, Autumn, Sandra, Anastasia (!), Nathan, Wenzdai, Jenny,  Bobzilla, Whitney, Rich, Indira…  More, always more. Thanks to you, I have already begun helping others. Thanks to all of you, dreams are not that far away. Dreams are here, always here just waiting to be accepted.

HA!

ALL of you have helped me, some more than once. Some, for extended periods of time until it just got too much,  Which reminds me to shed love on Keven and Elliotte, as well., Just time. My saviors wnen I returned to the Baye  Aeria.

And with that, I leave you to a reply that has just been sent to the sender of the place that I needed to send it to.

Her Question was; ” Have you found a home?”
The reply follows…h

YES!!!!!

I apologize for not thanking you sooner, but I really, really wanted to be able to say “this is what you helped do!” instead of “thanks for the money!”

Well, dear Jenny, this is what you helped so much in me getting, just last night:

http://sfbay.craigslist.org/nby/car/298087396.html

It’s not as pretty as the pictures, but man – with just a very small bit of creative love it will be glorious – it already IS! (I just need to customize it a bit, of course)

The motor is very strong, it drives beautifully, is warm, and very, very comfortable – this will be my first night in it, outside of a friends house (which is where I am writing this from now).

Along the top of the inside there are lights (about 8 total, 4/side) that can individually be turned on, it has a bunch of cool little storage spaces in the roof and a big one under the bed in back, and all I really *need* to do is fix the driver/passenger chairs, as it comes with a built in “gangsta lean”. Lots of window that you can see in the pictures in the add, all tinted for privacy – though I am going to put up curtains as well, because of the lights.

I’ts not necessarily (hardly!) economical on gas with it’s 21 year old V8, but hell, when it needs to, it gets up and goes. The motor was recently rebuilt and it has a new carb, and purrls like a tiger. I spent eight years as a Harley Mechanic, so if something is amiss I can’t help but notice it (that’s what I’m trained to do!) – but on this motor – nothing. No hesitation, no lifter or rod noise – it runs cool and starts up instantly. Even pulls me up the rediculous inclines of San Francisco with no problem. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was yawning as we went up one of the steeper ones today.
 I’ll try to figure out the actual mileage someway – today after work I put $20 in, which made the needle move juuuuust up into the red empty mark – how big is this tank, anyway???!

(I also need to figure out how far below the empty mark I can push it!)

J – thank you. I haven’t actually been able to spend much time in it yet, but the time spent was wonderful,and really helped me feel better about things in general – there was a huge load of stress that was just shed.

I’ve already picked up a friend who needed a ride this morning from dropping her car off at the garage, and have offered it’s services to the performance/circus groups I work with, because we have a three day gig in L.A. coming up soon, and I *know* some people will need rides – woohoo! Even just a little bit, I CAN HELP!!!

I’ve owned 5 vans to date including this one, and, while not the grooviest (that was the ’67 Ford) it is by FAR the best, most comfortable, and without question, most useful.

Give me a little time – I’ll make this one the grooviest, as well.

I’ve always loved vans, but never had one that was either too small to comfortably sleep in (the Ford minivan, circa: move to Boston/Austin/New Orleans) or had something that I needed to be concerned about. The ’67 Ford got me from Phoenix to San Diego, but it had a gas tank leak so I could only put a small amount in at a time. Some times the gas next gas station was further. The ’68 Ford rocked, but was never really used as well as it should have been, as well as it offered. It had a sink and such, cupboards, I had fun with it – until the last whoopee where the rear wheel fell off on I-5 and I did a bit of a tumble (I heard I flipped five four times in the air, by the driver of one of the five other cars I took out) after getting broadsided by a dump truck. The last before this, Connie… ohhh, Connie. Connie was a beast unto herself, but she(or he, as that was the name of the previous owner, and he always wanted to go to cCalifornia – so I took his ashes and spread them various beautiful places, and eventually, at the tideline, with Bean, on Ocean Beach inSan Francisco…) …she was a mess. No drivers side window, but after a bunch of work, it kinda ran, was comfortable, and served it’s purpose beautifully. Connie was a trooper., but found it’s destination here. Fortunately, and with the help of very dear friends, I was able to get the human Connie’s ashes out after it was towed – as well as most of my other stuff. Almost all, space and time was scarce – but I am kicking myself for not grabbing the power inverter. Oops. Who woulda thought? Wasn’t looking for a van, then.

I don’t know the name of this one yet, but I plan to stick with her for quite a while, and she seems to want to stick around – and I believe her. One of the names I thought of befor naming Connie was Vincent – as in Van,GO!  (please? please go?) – but this one, this one does. It goes. Man, how it goes.

I haven’t jumped on it, no Wide Fuckin’ Open throttle (WFO – a term from the Harley days), but hell, I’m trying to save fuel, and I don’t need to. It is felt. This bitch is just waiting to roar.

Can you tell I’m a gearhead? This shit makes me giddy as hell – I KNOW how to do these things – but seein’ as I don’t need to do more to the motor to make her suck more fuel, I’m just going to focus on dressing her up – and yeah, she needs it. She deserves it.

Wait – that sounds weird.

Don’t get me wrong – thoug I really dig my van, (MY van!!!) and though I have a passion for mechanical things, and playing with aesthetics, yeah, I dig girlsles, too, and some (though very few)  boyses. Oodles. Why else would I want to make my van so hospitable?

Okay, many reasons. I just like playing, dancing, creating. I like new things, and this, dear, is new. New, and glorious. I’ma gonna shaddap now, but I think I just may post this reply on my blogittyblog.

Thank you.

Pictures are soon to come. Almost took one today after work at the Wharf, but it was freezing, windy, and drizzly – and I just wanted to get inside and warm up me bones and wipe off the makeup…

Which I was able to do.

five days and lifetimes ago

I’ve been copying my journal entries, from the second one, for the past five days. Cut. Paste. Cut. Paste. Months fly by, and I try not to read but I do. I see who I have been and
frequently
wonder where I have gone.

I am now up to June, ’05. Gone are the days with the Dresden Dolls and the beautiful people of The Brigade, gone is Bean. Life in flux, looking, searching, trying to find something in another warm body or booze. Trying to fill the voids of the two most rewarding loves I have had, trying to erase the pain of their absence.

Gone seems to be the wisdom I once could offer, the comfort, the love…

but then

then I think.

I think of what I wanted then, and what I am doing today. I think of how I wanted to perform and delight, to make smiles, to let people escape into what is actually real. I think of how things move forward.

Regardless of the trials, the struggle, the way that most of the time all I can do is focus on where I am sleeping tomorrow or how I wish I had a home that wasn’t someone elses, I think I am living the life I dreamed of – or at least beginning to.

I dance. I can’t fight anymore. As I walk from wherever to wherever with the straps of the bags cutting into my shoulders, it takes an effort to stop, touch the plants, look to the Sun, and just simply – smile… but only recently that is what I have remembered to do.

The great Universal OohAhh dances with me, blesses me, takes care of me – and it has never failed as long as I remember that it does what is needed. Hell, it never fails in reminding me. There’s a reason that I am going through all of my old journal entries now.
I am being reminded of who I am, who we all are…

and I think that I am coming back.

I sure as hell don’t write like I used to, but then, I don’t have the muse. My Brigade most certainly was, and even without them there was peace until Bean was gone. I look at the way I write, and it seems that everything left when Bean did – but I haven’t gotten to New Orleans yet. A beautiful muse – not for wisdom, but, perhaps, poetry.

I dance.

I travel with friends to shows, I have a monthly gig, I make people happy. I have a ticket paid for to New Orleans in the beginning of May, a week after I return a three day gig with amazing people at Lightning in a Bottle, then at the end of the month back down to Long Beach to perform on the Queen Mary.  Isn’t this what I wanted???

Yes. Yes, Yes – and no. I’m perfoming, getting around, absolutely loving my life, except for the homeless bit  – but hell, there once was a time that I offered more than a pretty picture , a spectacle soon forgotten. There once was a time where people came to me for answers, and I knew them. I was without a home then as well, but they were my ground. I found out so much of myself in the Brigade, found so much of me…

I don’t give enough. Not anymore. Not as much as I want to.

Perhaps that is the main reason I have decided to move ahead with this book – a book of almost all of my journal postings. I’ve been told many times that I should publish this blather, abd looking back, reading – well, someone may just understand. Someone may just relate, and not feel so alone – and I do know what it is like to feel that. More than you probably know.

I Dance,

I dance.

It is not worth the energy to fight – that will only bring us circles. Dance a spiral with me, and we will grow together.

This world needs us.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And yeah, in current news – still searching for ‘The Van’.  Singular appreciation is coming, believe me – but the one I wanted offers no replies, so I keep searching, and keep  borrowing. Just little pieces, it will all make sense soon, and hopefully within a couple of days. A strang home, yes – bu one, with your help, I can have…

And damned if I’m not willing to be the first one contacted for a ride anywhere, or help in a move.

Soon, I will be back…

I read the responses from posts of years past

It's been since I've returned here after Burning Man…

coming from eight months in New Orleans, that I decided to stay in beautiful San Francisco instead of head down to Los Angeles. It’s also been since shortly after Burning Man that I’ve essentially been homeless, and taking up precious space in incredibly generous people’s homes.

I’ve decided to take it a different route, and buy a van that I can live in and is drivable, unlike the van that I arived here in which had a window missing and could barely make it around the block after the 2400 mile trip.

I’ve though about the pro’s and con’s for a bit, and the pro’s scream past the cons. Not only will the right van offer comfortable shelter, but most importantly, I will be able to gather the things I need from the 6 places my belongings are currently in – a bag of costumes here, my stilts there, fire performance equipment somwhere else, and street performance gear – the most important for steady income, in another place. A van would enable me to get down to the Wharf easily, whenever I wanted, and I can put on makeup and costume there instead of in a random bathroom, and take it off in the van as well. All this, and not having to make arrangements to grab my street kit (about 25lbs of stuff on a wheeled cart) everytime I want to get out there, and try to figure out what to do with it, and where to wipe off my makeup, after.

I’ve been bouncing on and off of couches for a while now, and am weary of it. Weary of how I need to focus on a place to sleep every few days these days, and the way that brings this usually optimistic and cheerful boy down. Weary of the weight of the bags that are incessantly on my sore shoulders, and bouncing the bags off of people on busses on my way to drop of one and pick up another, depending on the performance or where I’m going to sleep for the night.

“NO MORE!” Says I, I says.

It just so happens that I have found the perfect van before I expected to  – a well running, 1983 Dodge Van Conversion, with a couch that folds out to a bed, nice stereo system, tinted windows, swivel chairs, ladder and a roof rack to help Vau de Vire and Circus Metropulus haul gear to our gigs. I’ve seen many other vans out there, some for more, some for less – but *all* of them didn’t fit the bill of what I needed so perfectly. Most had mechanical problems which were above and beyond what I could afford to do and the necessity of need, and most I would have to lay down on bare metal. This one is carpeted, has a bed, lining to keep in the warmth – perfect, except for it being brown.

I need to act fast, though. Because of not being able to make it down to the Wharf, I only have just under $340, and the van is $800.

I need your help. he’s asking $800 for the van, so I need $460 as soon as possible, and would really appreciate it if you could help me get this money together.

I am planning an amazing benefit show, but it’s not coming soon enough to grab this great deal. Spring is pretty much here, and that means the Wharf will be swimming with generous tourists – but still, that’s not soon enough. I’m hoping to get this by Thursday, as that is the day I need to find another place to sleep. Wouldn’t it be lovely if I could sleep in my van, wake up the next day, and work? HELL YEAH, it would!!!

Just something as simple as this van will help me pay back old debts, new ones, relieve the TONS of pressure that I’ve been feeling – and help me feel human again. Alive. Much less of a burden to all of my friends. Due to the almost non-existent overhead, it will also help me save up for a proper apartment. A Home.

I’m getting really sick of asking for help, and without question, if I can get this van, I won’t need to anymore – it’s sublimely beautiful how many challenges this will solve, in every aspect – though I will ask for a place to take a shower now and then. HELL, I can even offer space on the bed in my van to people who need it!!!  I Just thought of that!

Time is of the essence, it will be sold soon – if you can help financially, please, please do.

I have a paypal account at ksea13@gmail.com

I’ll do your dishes, clean your bathroom, change your kitty litter. I’ll stiltwalk or breathe fire at your next party for $25 and over. I’ll give you a huge hug and a sincere, relaxed smile – the smiles I used to have. I still remember them.
I’ll give you a copy of the book that I’ve decided to go forward with, and who knows – you just may be glowingly portrayed in it.

I’ll remember you, and appreciate your generosity forever – but if you just want cash, I will most certainly pay you back. Things are moving forward, I’ve remembered my dreams and I’m chasing them down with a glorious vengance, and they are becoming reality. Things are happening, yo.

Please help, if you can. Please please please, and thank you, so very much.

Paypal: ksea13@gmail.com

It's been since I've returned here after Burning Man…

coming from eight months in New Orleans, that I decided to stay in beautiful San Francisco instead of head down to Los Angeles. It’s also been since shortly after Burning Man that I’ve essentially been homeless, and taking up precious space in incredibly generous people’s homes.

I’ve decided to take it a different route, and buy a van that I can live in and is drivable, unlike the van that I arived here in which had a window missing and could barely make it around the block after the 2400 mile trip.

I’ve though about the pro’s and con’s for a bit, and the pro’s scream past the cons. Not only will the right van offer comfortable shelter, but most importantly, I will be able to gather the things I need from the 6 places my belongings are currently in – a bag of costumes here, my stilts there, fire performance equipment somwhere else, and street performance gear – the most important for steady income, in another place. A van would enable me to get down to the Wharf easily, whenever I wanted, and I can put on makeup and costume there instead of in a random bathroom, and take it off in the van as well. All this, and not having to make arrangements to grab my street kit (about 25lbs of stuff on a wheeled cart) everytime I want to get out there, and try to figure out what to do with it, and where to wipe off my makeup, after.

I’ve been bouncing on and off of couches for a while now, and am weary of it. Weary of how I need to focus on a place to sleep every few days these days, and the way that brings this usually optimistic and cheerful boy down. Weary of the weight of the bags that are incessantly on my sore shoulders, and bouncing the bags off of people on busses on my way to drop of one and pick up another, depending on the performance or where I’m going to sleep for the night.

“NO MORE!” Says I, I says.

It just so happens that I have found the perfect van before I expected to  – a well running, 1983 Dodge Van Conversion, with a couch that folds out to a bed, nice stereo system, tinted windows, swivel chairs, ladder and a roof rack to help Vau de Vire and Circus Metropulus haul gear to our gigs. I’ve seen many other vans out there, some for more, some for less – but *all* of them didn’t fit the bill of what I needed so perfectly. Most had mechanical problems which were above and beyond what I could afford to do and the necessity of need, and most I would have to lay down on bare metal. This one is carpeted, has a bed, lining to keep in the warmth – perfect, except for it being brown.

I need to act fast, though. Because of not being able to make it down to the Wharf, I only have just under $340, and the van is $800.

I need your help. he’s asking $800 for the van, so I need $460 as soon as possible, and would really appreciate it if you could help me get this money together.

I am planning an amazing benefit show, but it’s not coming soon enough to grab this great deal. Spring is pretty much here, and that means the Wharf will be swimming with generous tourists – but still, that’s not soon enough. I’m hoping to get this by Thursday, as that is the day I need to find another place to sleep. Wouldn’t it be lovely if I could sleep in my van, wake up the next day, and work? HELL YEAH, it would!!!

Just something as simple as this van will help me pay back old debts, new ones, relieve the TONS of pressure that I’ve been feeling – and help me feel human again. Alive. Much less of a burden to all of my friends. Due to the almost non-existent overhead, it will also help me save up for a proper apartment. A Home.

I’m getting really sick of asking for help, and without question, if I can get this van, I won’t need to anymore – it’s sublimely beautiful how many challenges this will solve, in every aspect – though I will ask for a place to take a shower now and then. HELL, I can even offer space on the bed in my van to people who need it!!!  I Just thought of that!

Time is of the essence, it will be sold soon – if you can help financially, please, please do.

I have a paypal account at ksea13@gmail.com

I’ll do your dishes, clean your bathroom, change your kitty litter. I’ll stiltwalk or breathe fire at your next party for $25 and over. I’ll give you a huge hug and a sincere, relaxed smile – the smiles I used to have. I still remember them.
I’ll give you a copy of the book that I’ve decided to go forward with, and who knows – you just may be glowingly portrayed in it.

I’ll remember you, and appreciate your generosity forever – but if you just want cash, I will most certainly pay you back. Things are moving forward, I’ve remembered my dreams and I’m chasing them down with a glorious vengance, and they are becoming reality. Things are happening, yo.

Please help, if you can. Please please please, and thank you, so very much.

Paypal: ksea13@gmail.com

puzzles from the last post

A conversation…

SA SHISHA wrote:
>
kSea flux wrote:
> > > ..and those things are what dictate my life,
> > > those things are the knowledge that I live my
> > > life by, and gods, it is an exquisite life
> and
> > > one that I wouldn’t trade for anything – but
> at
> > > times – at times, all I have learned, all I
> > > believe, all of the knowledge we have had
> since
> > > we began – well, the outside forces get a bit
> > > too much.

***
> > >>>Thats why i dont let them in. I have a small
> > group of close friends and really work hard to
> > keep stress and drama out of my life. Ive hit
> > rock bottom a few times in the past year..but
> > have managed to wipe off my knees and get back
> > up to doing what I love to do.

***
>
> ~ ~ ~ Ahh, but my dear – one of the things that
> inspire me is the depth of sorrow. There are
> some things that you cant help but let in, and
> process – that is what makes us sronger.
> My Bean, my beautiful friend and pup, is a good
> case in point. She was/is the best thing that
> ever happened to me, and honestly, literaly,
> kept me alive at times. When she suddenly
> passed…
> Yeah, try to not let that in…..
> Pain will come, and needs to – but it’s the way
> that it is processed that makes all the
> difference. When it’s at that magnitude I can’t
> absorb it and pretend it didn’t happen, I NEED
> to let it in, process it in my own way, think
> about it – and let it go *through* me. Sure – I
> still shed tears every time I think about her –
> but her passing – and other challenges we face
> through our beautiful lives – are not to be
> dwelt on. I learn. We all must. That is the
> beauty of life, the magick, and, if you will,
> the flux and morph.
> Of course, there are simple challenges that i
> laugh at, and continue on – but some, some…
> some we NEED to take in, try to know the lesson,
> and then, continue.
> There most certainly is a Utopia, but not in the
> general belief. Utopia is obtained (by us
> simple souls) by realizing pain, knowing what it
> is, and having the mind to choose otherwise.
> My belief is that the lower we go, the higher we
> can reach, because we know and have felt the
> other side. I – and perhaps you, have had sorrow
> and joy imesurable by most standards. The Utopia
> lies in the knowledge of joy that we know.
>
> ~~Thinking about that, have I, searching for
> myself and the proverbial “Nirvana”
> inside of me – do I create, looking for the
> highest a being can go – do I manifest the
> lowest? No, I don’t think so, but…
>
> Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa.
>
> Paridigm change in deep order.
>
> ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
> I do not look for the pain, but admittedly,
> sometimes create it. I am aware that everything
> that happpens in my life is of my own creation.
> We create our own reality, plain and simple.
> >
> > > This is when I vent. This is when I choose to
> > > support the local liquor stores just a bit,
> and
> > > write.

***
> > >>>yea..i support my bowl (and vice versa);>
>
***

> POTHEAD!

> >
> > Put everything down and release the
> > > thoughts and feelings, and as I do so, I know
> > > that that is all they are – thoughts and
> > > feelings. Release, let them go out of me so I
> > > can move on from them. They *are* me, but
> they
> > > are not who I am, who I have become. They are
> > > only the smallest part, only a movement in
> the
> > > dance.\

***

> > >>>>But do you really release them? Or will
> they
> > always be a part of you since they are woven
> > into the beautiful tapestry of your Life?? I
> > just try to come to terms with it. Understand
> > what lesson(s) were meant for me by having to
> go
> > thru various challenges.
>
> ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Addressed in the previous post, but,
> yeah – I would like to think I release them.
> Honestly, though – I’m unsure. Do I hold on to
> them to maintain what I think is my identity?
> Yes – to answer your question, I hold on to them
> – though I would rather them be a part of my
> life, more than a part of me. How do you hold
> onto the Joy and let the pain go? Should I let
> it ALL go? Perhaps, yes. YES. It will be
> replaced with more Joy, and inevitably, more
> challenges. Life, is truly, beautiful – we just
> need to keep dancing.
>
> Wow. Isa – I value this conversation and the
> questions it btings more than I can express
> (without posting a rediculous spewing of words).
> > >
> > > The Dance.
> > >
> > > Is it possible to dance and fight at the same
> > > time? Is every fight a dance, or every dance
> a
> > > fight?
> > >>>For me, dance is meditation with movement.
> > Its very surreal and so engrained into my
> Spirit
> > that its become as second nature to me as
> > breathing. Why fight? Seems like such a waste
> of
> > energy. Although making up is always nice….
> > >
> > > Perhaps every fight is a dance – but every
> > dance
> > > is not a fight.
> > >>>Maybe…
> >
> > Though I used the word ”
> > > fight” lightly in my last posting, words
> > > move worlds and the right ones must be
> chosen.
> > I
> > > realize my mistake, and a silly smile crosses
> > my
> > > face again. I chuckle to myself as a weight
> is
> > > lifted off – and I begin dancing again.
> > >>>Heheh..yea, this happens often to me as
> well.
> > But then I just become a more aware Dancer and
> > writer!
> > >
> > > One thing in your eloquent (except for the
> > > ‘lol’s’ – you’re better than IM lingo!)
> reply,
> > > however, confused me a bit. What do you mean
> > by
> > > “some of us know alot more about you
> then
> > > you think. And some of us even face similar
> > > challenges because of it.”
> > > It’s not the some of us know thang that I’m
> > > concerned about – I mean hell, ever since I
> > > switched from paper scratches to binary code
> > the
> > > major parts of my life have mostly been an
> open
> > > book to anyone who chooses to dive deep and
> > read
> > > a bit, and there are things I told Cam that I
> > > needed to which she may have told you… but
> > > what concerns me is the second part. ”
> Some
> > > of us face similar challenges because of it. b
> > > ” ??? Whatcha mean by that, me dear?

*****
>
> > >>>Maybe i shouldnt have opened my big mouth,
> or
> > chose my words differently?! I just meant that
> I
> > have similar health issues that I deal with on
> a
> > daily basis and at times it becomes a bit
> > overwhelming. I know what its like to struggle
> > to do what you love to do…to keep your heart
> > open…and your energy up. That was one of the
> > reasons why I felt/feel such a kinship with you.
> > >
> > > Anyway, thank you for reminding me of
> necessary
> > > things, and I very much look forward to
> dancing
> > > with you in the near future…
>
> &gt
; >>>Are you goin to NOLA? If so i will drive
> down
> > and hang out. Im always looking for an excuse
> to
> > travel. OH yea…did you find a place to live?
> > Is it a temp/perm thang?
>
> ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Nope, not yet. My right shoulder is
> weary and scarred from the weight of the bags i
> carry. A few days here, a few days there, EVERY
> day wondering what will happen next, every day
> wondering if I will need to sleep on the street
> sometime in the next few. Where I will go,
> trying to figure that out. I’ve been blessed by
> amazing friends, but… but both I and them are
> getting weary. All I want is a home. A home, and
> shitloads of money in my bank account, instead
> of the $5ish that is in ther now..
>
>
> Me and another friend
> > of mine who lives there already are looking to
> > get a house in August. Although i ‘may’ get
> > there earlier and stay with a friend until we
> > get a place.
> > >
> > >
> > > “We dance for laughter, we dance for
> > tears,
> > > we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we
> > > dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are
> > > the dancers, we create the dreams.” ~
> > > Unknown ~
> > >>Verrry nice!
> > >
> > > Keep dancing, sweet Isa.
> > >>>Always….
> > >
> > > I will as well.
> > >>cant wait to see:>
> > >
> > >
> > > I promise.
> > >>>will hold ya to it!!!!
> > MMMMMUAHS
> > *I*
> >
>
>
> Hey – there is much said here that I would like
> to post, bloggylike. Would you object? I can
> take out your name if you wish, no problem – but
> considering my last post, I think that there may
> be a couple people that want to make sure that
> I’m okay.
> Besides that, you’ve said some brilliant things
> that made me think…