Energy runs low these days, but still – the fun is there, the excitement, and the love for what I have chosen to do absoloutely soars.
There is a price to be paid, however. That is clear.
It’s as if the Universe is testing me (surprise, surprise) and one of these days, I hope to pass. Pass on to the next test. That is, I believe, what it is all about. Keep Fighting. Don’t let anything get you down – not the weight of the bags nor the misery of the past. Keep Shining. Keep Fighting. Keep Fighting. Keep trying to smile, even if it’s through tears and frustration. Keep telling everyone that I’m okay even though I may question it myself.
Keep Fighting. It will work out. It always does.
It always has, at least. Work out the way it is supposed to. Keep Fighting, hold on.
hold on. tight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday was insanely beautiful. Circus Metropolus had a private gig at the Regency – and my gods, is that place beautiful. Check it out: http://www.regencycentersf.com/gallery.html
The day began at 1pm, meeting me pal Boe of Gooferman [ http://www.gooferman.com ]  for load in and then running all over the city gathering everything for the show in his van – three trips. Doesn’t seem like much, but two of those trips were for the sound equipment, and that shit – well, that shit is heavy. Real heavy. Yeah, we had our hand trucks and dollies, but for some reason, to get to the elevator at the Regency, there is a decent flight of stairs…
We managed, made it happen, put on a phenomenal show, and made people happy.
4:am rolls in, after all of jumping and running around and stilting and aerialing and playing in a banding and everythinging, and we’re all a bit pooped. Exhausted is a better word, I guess. I was a good boy through the eve, and kept my drinking to a minimum – I commited to help with load in and out, for a bit of extra scratch and because, hell – what else was I going to do? While I was asked if i wanted a ride to Boe’s (where I was staying that night) while the deliciously sexy performers said their farewells and drifted away, I needed to stay.
Man, I had no idea what I was getting into – none of us did.
Just before load out of EVERYTHING, the ancient elevator died.
We were on the third floor.
Long story a bit less long, we finished getting all of that heavy-ass equipment down and out at the lovely time of 8:am. My muscleses were noodleses at the end of the night, and Boe can attest to my delerium (I think i kept him at least somewhat amused most of the early hours) but I couldn’t stop thinking about how happy I was that I maintained my infamous alchohol consumption to a bare minimum – even with a free top-shelf bar. Yay, me.

I slept a halfway decent three hours, and then woke up – things needed to be done. Today was the only day that I could arrange to get my life out of my van. Journals kept for 20 years, photo albums, incredibly hard (or impossible) to find books, a mans ashes, keepsakes from past lovers and friends, all of my life is in that van. Restless sleep.
Zak called, I slept a bit more, then needed to rise. Rising without waking. Zombie Boy kSea. I went with the absolute kick-ass Neil ( http://www.theblight.net ) who was pulling a rockstar weekend (and also sleeping at Boe’s) to the corner cafe, had a coffee and a psuedo-pastry, then Zak came with his truck – and hells yeah, thanks to the him and the Whitney (who recommended him and his glorious generosity to me) – I was able to get almost everything out of my van. Some things, paltry things, I needed to leave, as there was no room – but I got the stuff that mattered.
My life all fits neatly into the back of a Toyota 4-Runner. Into that, and my heart. My heart is much, much bigger, I believe. That is where I keep my memories. I don’t keep them in my mind. It just finds them.

Dropping My Life off at Whitneys, then taking Zak out to sushi in thanks. For a fraction of a second i squirmed before asking him if I could take him to lunch – I can’t afford this – but…damn. This boy just played the critical role in helping me get my memories back. Most of the things I have are memories. The rest is just to survive. I want to keep everyone I have known with me, forever. I want to look at a letter, or a heart drawn in silver ink on the scrap of a palm leaf; I want to read a poem on paper with burnt edges and see the stars on that strange page in my journal from ’86, sitting at a cafe in Berkeley – and be brought back, perfectly. Thanks to Whitney and Zak, I again have those things. I never want to forget anyone. Those are the people that have given me their love, and shown me how much I have to give. Those people, and hundreds of others.

I go back to Bobzilla’s house after that, a couple bucks left but happy – and gods, absolutely about to drop. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank Bobzilla enough – ever. Many reasons. Bob Rocks, in more ways than I could ever express in a few sentences here.

Maybe, someday, I will be able to thank him and all the others.
That’s what I’m working on. Why I’m still here.

The weekend was terrifying. Many, many people, but very little money made. Rediculously little. The worst ever for the amount of people.
I begin to wonder if it’s me – the stress currently in my life – is it the energy I put out? Can they feel it? Of course they can. I study it every single day I work. As a Living Statue, all I have is my energy.
On the slowest of days with an energy that attracts, a belief that everything is as it should be and I have peace inside, the appreciate. they stand, pause and smile, and show their appreciation. Silent, motionless, these days they seem to smell the desperation and are turned away.
There was a time where it was simple enough to change that. In New Orleans, before Raven & I left for Burning Man, I thought of the magick and beauty, I thought of all the things that had brought me there and all of the things that were, and knew that I was suppose to be at That Thing In The Desert. I knew that everything needed me to be there. Needed me to be there for me.

I don’t know anything anymore. I fight. Fight to survive, wonder where the next home will be and if I will ever have my own, I wonder why I don’t. Shoulders scratched and scarred from the bags I carry from place to place, muscles weary. Mind weary. Heart…
My heart is one strong motherfucker, but it has it’s own questions of why things are like this.

Everything says I should do what I need to for me. It’s past that point. I’ve lost me, I want to do for you. That is why I am still here for now. You won’t let me go. I love you too much, and I love you – and I don’t want to let you down. I want to be the person that we believe I am – but right now… right now things have been like they have for way too long of right now. Right now needs to change right fucking now. Somehow.

Pardon my language.

Anastasia encouraged me to put together a benefit for yours truly to help me get the money to get a home. I sent out a couple of emails to a couple people for a space and performance, but haven’t heard back. Drive, energy, life force – waning. Thoughts every day these days, and I don’t like it. Every bit of energy is into performance and the next place to sleep. The next someone else’s home. DONE. done.
Please excuse me, I’m not in such an incredibly happy mood right now. Fighting for dreams, fighting for me, fighting to come back but really not giving a damn right now. Right now, key words. Anyone who reads me knows that I bounce around in the words. Always smiling on the outside, a klown, a joker. This is where the dirt is, even if this dirt is only for a few moments.

Dreams are worth fighting for. Every fight comes with pain and sacrifice. if it is for a good cause, if the person who dreams it is strong enough, eventually, the dream will become reality. This is what I believe.

I try to be strong enough, but I really don’t know, so
metimes, if i am.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“The Warrior of the light does not always have faith. There are moments when he believes in absolutely nothing, and he asks his heart: “Is all this efffort really worth it?”

But his heart remains silent. And the Warrior needs to decide for himself.

He looks for an example and remembers that Jesus went through something similar in order to inhabit fully the homan condition.

“Take away this cup from me.” said Jesus. He too lost heart and courage, but he did not stop.

The Warrior of the Light continues despite his lack of faith. He goes forward, and, in the end, faith is restored.”

~ ~ ~ From Paulo Coelhoo’s “Warrior of the Light” ~  ~ ~

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