Dream
May 1, 2013
I stand in the living room, no furniture -- Bare, carpeted floors and some sheer white curtains hanging in front of French doors opening to a backyard -- Whose backyard? -- They are out there, it is out there, and I pace -- back and forth, wall to wall -- anxious, tense, keeping it together but still worried, unsure -- Can it see me? -- the carpet a dull beige, worn, dirty --
From an opening to my left emerges a hideous creature, a gigantic, grotesquely oversized Daddy Long Leg spider! -- Huge, massive spindly legs, a mechanically quick body -- it walks across the floor from the opening in the wall to the French doors on my right, right in front of me -- I cannot move -- it carries a strange posture, appearing visibly to be anxious in the way I am anxious, anticipating what I anticipate, outside those doors, wondering if it can be seen --
I observe the animal with an internal terror and disgust, but I do not flee -- oddly compelled, intensely curious -- I observe the creature move back and forth, wall to wall, darting swiftly over the dingy carpet, thin yet heavy legs thumping softly -- The more closely I observe I realize its legs are spider legs, but with a body partially spider and partially monkey -- a monkey spider? -- and amongst the legs emerge two small hands and a tiny face, coated in hair -- fur? -- I know it to have a mind, awareness, consciousness -- it feels pain, worry, fear -- horrifying in an otherworldly sense, yet beautiful and vulnerable --
May 2, 2013
April 27, 2013
Shifting Crowds, Ocean Tides
It's been a while since I've posted a dream. Well, it's been a while since I've posted anything at all, but in particular a dream. Here goes...
Dream
April 23, 2013
I'm going to look at a new apartment in a high-rise, in the Lloyd District -- Something about this whole thing is forced, like moving is not my choice, but I don't fight it, I accept it as truth and reality -- I'm not angry or resentful, but matter of fact and clear -- This is what must happen -- A lady shows me the apartment, very small and already furnished -- I am struck by the oddness of the couch -- The main room is cramped, furniture ill-arrange, the colors drab and outdated -- I don't hate it, but I don't love it -- It doesn't occur to me that in moving somewhere else I will be LEAVING my current apartment -- All is well and dandy --
We walk around the grounds through the courtyard and around the block -- I am unfazed, indifferent -- I run errands, lost in thought about the new place, about the furniture and how I will change it to make it less awkward -- It starts to slowly dawn on me that I will be moving out of my current apartment, specifically that I will no longer have the art studio -- the new place is so cramped there is definitely not room for art making, let alone to house all of my belongings, now that I think of it -- I realize my exit from the freeway to get home is from I-84 and not I-5 -- something about this makes my heart sink into my feet, realizing I am, indeed, in a very different part of town -- I'll have to change my routes to get everywhere -- Slow, quiet panic --
It turns to nighttime, overwhelmed with sadness and confusion -- Why am I leaving my apartment? Does anybody else know? How could I have agreed to such a strange and awful venture? -- I visit the new building after the sun goes down -- Hallways filled with scarcely clothed teenage girls who appear to be heading to or from a swimming pool -- This feels like a hotel, or a dorm -- I am out of place and intensely uncomfortable -- I think This is so public, how will I ever get privacy? -- Despite the grassy knoll and parks on the ground floor far below, I am invaded, intruded upon -- The only way I'll ever find respite is in my apartment itself, which I don't even like and makes me uncomfortable --
Claw my way through crowds of teenagers, finally make it to my door and walk inside -- Even with all the lights on, it is still dim, tinged in gold, like Grandma's house -- I can't bear to be here -- I fight my way back downstairs to the ground level and go outside to explore the shops nearby -- I awoke early for this, the sun wasn't up yet -- I am awake before everybody so maybe I'll find some peace out here -- My feet step onto the sidewalk and I'm immediately shoved and pushed by a massive crowd of people on the sidewalk, shifting and moving like an ocean tide, moving not as individuals but as a whole group, as One --
San Francisco --
A huge food cart, almost like a cafeteria kitchen but entirely outside and uncovered, serving up steaming plates of food to an ornery gathering of drunk people -- It is already 4am and I thought I'd beat everybody here? -- But my morning is only beginning, and this crowd of people is topping off their night with a gut full of starchy food -- Nowhere can I step without being bumped into, shoved, pushed aside -- Oddly dark, for a city street -- The tops of people's heads aglow from the gold light of street lamps, heads moving and swaying and shifting like a giant amoebic being, hungry and restless -- I don't make it half a block before becoming frustrated and angry -- I turn back and cut my way through the hoard towards the hotel -- I will never have privacy! THIS is my front yard?! I cannot leave this building without being overrun by tides of people! -- I think of my art studio -- I think of the sunshine pouring in through the windows on a warm bright day -- I think of how perfect it is, perfect for me -- I feel tears starting to form in my guts and I try to hold them back -- It simply is not right --
Dream
April 23, 2013
I'm going to look at a new apartment in a high-rise, in the Lloyd District -- Something about this whole thing is forced, like moving is not my choice, but I don't fight it, I accept it as truth and reality -- I'm not angry or resentful, but matter of fact and clear -- This is what must happen -- A lady shows me the apartment, very small and already furnished -- I am struck by the oddness of the couch -- The main room is cramped, furniture ill-arrange, the colors drab and outdated -- I don't hate it, but I don't love it -- It doesn't occur to me that in moving somewhere else I will be LEAVING my current apartment -- All is well and dandy --
We walk around the grounds through the courtyard and around the block -- I am unfazed, indifferent -- I run errands, lost in thought about the new place, about the furniture and how I will change it to make it less awkward -- It starts to slowly dawn on me that I will be moving out of my current apartment, specifically that I will no longer have the art studio -- the new place is so cramped there is definitely not room for art making, let alone to house all of my belongings, now that I think of it -- I realize my exit from the freeway to get home is from I-84 and not I-5 -- something about this makes my heart sink into my feet, realizing I am, indeed, in a very different part of town -- I'll have to change my routes to get everywhere -- Slow, quiet panic --
It turns to nighttime, overwhelmed with sadness and confusion -- Why am I leaving my apartment? Does anybody else know? How could I have agreed to such a strange and awful venture? -- I visit the new building after the sun goes down -- Hallways filled with scarcely clothed teenage girls who appear to be heading to or from a swimming pool -- This feels like a hotel, or a dorm -- I am out of place and intensely uncomfortable -- I think This is so public, how will I ever get privacy? -- Despite the grassy knoll and parks on the ground floor far below, I am invaded, intruded upon -- The only way I'll ever find respite is in my apartment itself, which I don't even like and makes me uncomfortable --
Claw my way through crowds of teenagers, finally make it to my door and walk inside -- Even with all the lights on, it is still dim, tinged in gold, like Grandma's house -- I can't bear to be here -- I fight my way back downstairs to the ground level and go outside to explore the shops nearby -- I awoke early for this, the sun wasn't up yet -- I am awake before everybody so maybe I'll find some peace out here -- My feet step onto the sidewalk and I'm immediately shoved and pushed by a massive crowd of people on the sidewalk, shifting and moving like an ocean tide, moving not as individuals but as a whole group, as One --
San Francisco --
A huge food cart, almost like a cafeteria kitchen but entirely outside and uncovered, serving up steaming plates of food to an ornery gathering of drunk people -- It is already 4am and I thought I'd beat everybody here? -- But my morning is only beginning, and this crowd of people is topping off their night with a gut full of starchy food -- Nowhere can I step without being bumped into, shoved, pushed aside -- Oddly dark, for a city street -- The tops of people's heads aglow from the gold light of street lamps, heads moving and swaying and shifting like a giant amoebic being, hungry and restless -- I don't make it half a block before becoming frustrated and angry -- I turn back and cut my way through the hoard towards the hotel -- I will never have privacy! THIS is my front yard?! I cannot leave this building without being overrun by tides of people! -- I think of my art studio -- I think of the sunshine pouring in through the windows on a warm bright day -- I think of how perfect it is, perfect for me -- I feel tears starting to form in my guts and I try to hold them back -- It simply is not right --
April 26, 2013
Where Ground Meets Sky
This is where I go
when I want to be
on the edge of the world
floating
flying
the quiet of the earth
the hum of vastness
alone and away
in a crevice where ground meets sky
straddled between all there is
and all there ever was.
when I want to be
on the edge of the world
floating
flying
the quiet of the earth
the hum of vastness
alone and away
in a crevice where ground meets sky
straddled between all there is
and all there ever was.
April 23, 2013
An Evening Observation
I realized today why it is as if by magic that I have slipped into a very "bachelor" type of lifestyle, after starting to live alone again. The most apparent of bachelor choices being the food I'm eating and the manner in which I prepare it. On too many a night have I gorged on beer, Ramen and microwave eggrolls, not entirely understanding how in the known universe the eggrolls even made their way into my freezer in the first place and why I choose to devour them with such frequency.
I only realized today why this happens.
After taking a leisurely hour-and-a-half walk after work today (the sunshine is simply brilliant!), I came home to find I'd bought some groceries the night before, anticipating I would want something tasty for dinner tonight (that Pea, she knows me so well...) and, shockingly, I did want something tasty for dinner tonight.
I spent some wonderful time preparing delicious roasted broccoli, juicy savory turkey burgers, and a tangy spring mix salad with avocado, bell pepper, banana peppers, and an olive oil dressing. Everything was done all at the same time, so the hot food was hot, the cold food was cold, and I was just beside myself with excitement. (Food makes me very, very happy.)
I cleared a little edge on my round table that is piled (piled!) with stupid amounts of clutter. By God, I am GOING to eat this beautiful dinner at my table tonight! I put all the food on the table, opened my awesome windows, absorbed the gorgeous Spring air pouring in the back door, and dived in.
Only...
An overwhelming sense of loneliness quickly set in.
This amazing meal, this spectacular breeze, a complete setting that is purely divine -- and nobody to enjoy it with.
Hmm.
And it dawned on me: putting a lot of energy into cooking a great meal isn't as fun as it could be, if you can't share it with anyone.
Enter: frozen pot stickers, cans of tuna, and peanut butter sandwiches.
It all makes sense now.
And while I recognize the mild inherent loneliness in eating a great meal alone, I do feel way better having eaten something healthy and homemade, rather than gross and fast-food. Perhaps something on the Tube can be my companion for the meals to follow...
I only realized today why this happens.
After taking a leisurely hour-and-a-half walk after work today (the sunshine is simply brilliant!), I came home to find I'd bought some groceries the night before, anticipating I would want something tasty for dinner tonight (that Pea, she knows me so well...) and, shockingly, I did want something tasty for dinner tonight.
I spent some wonderful time preparing delicious roasted broccoli, juicy savory turkey burgers, and a tangy spring mix salad with avocado, bell pepper, banana peppers, and an olive oil dressing. Everything was done all at the same time, so the hot food was hot, the cold food was cold, and I was just beside myself with excitement. (Food makes me very, very happy.)
I cleared a little edge on my round table that is piled (piled!) with stupid amounts of clutter. By God, I am GOING to eat this beautiful dinner at my table tonight! I put all the food on the table, opened my awesome windows, absorbed the gorgeous Spring air pouring in the back door, and dived in.
Only...
An overwhelming sense of loneliness quickly set in.
This amazing meal, this spectacular breeze, a complete setting that is purely divine -- and nobody to enjoy it with.
Hmm.
And it dawned on me: putting a lot of energy into cooking a great meal isn't as fun as it could be, if you can't share it with anyone.
Enter: frozen pot stickers, cans of tuna, and peanut butter sandwiches.
It all makes sense now.
And while I recognize the mild inherent loneliness in eating a great meal alone, I do feel way better having eaten something healthy and homemade, rather than gross and fast-food. Perhaps something on the Tube can be my companion for the meals to follow...
April 21, 2013
Play
I am finding that a big part of "adulthood" is remembering who we were when we were children. Because somehow a part of aging means forgetting what we were like in our purest, most honest state, before we learned to reason our way out of doing the things we enjoy.
As a child, were you imaginative? Restless? Did you write stories? Were you a poet? Did you spend hours entertaining ideas and fancies in your mind, in your soul, just because? Were you adventurous? Were you infinitely bold, courageous, free from fear, inhibition, self-consciousness? Were you an inventor? A doctor, sky diver, master chef? Were your thoughts quiet and contemplative, or electrified and limitless?
At some point along the way, and through no fault of our own, we start to forget these things. We are saddled with responsibility and distraction and practicality, and we stop doing the things that make us who we fundamentally are. We stop being in such a way that is truly reflective and resonant of our souls.
Remember who you used to be. Remember what it was that made you well up with joy, connection, and pure elation from your toes to the very top of your head. Remember what those things are and cultivate them. Today, now, every day.
Think
Draw
Paint
Read
Write
Want
Expect
Love
Contemplate
Seek
Ask
Play
As a child, were you imaginative? Restless? Did you write stories? Were you a poet? Did you spend hours entertaining ideas and fancies in your mind, in your soul, just because? Were you adventurous? Were you infinitely bold, courageous, free from fear, inhibition, self-consciousness? Were you an inventor? A doctor, sky diver, master chef? Were your thoughts quiet and contemplative, or electrified and limitless?
At some point along the way, and through no fault of our own, we start to forget these things. We are saddled with responsibility and distraction and practicality, and we stop doing the things that make us who we fundamentally are. We stop being in such a way that is truly reflective and resonant of our souls.
Remember who you used to be. Remember what it was that made you well up with joy, connection, and pure elation from your toes to the very top of your head. Remember what those things are and cultivate them. Today, now, every day.
Think
Draw
Paint
Read
Write
Want
Expect
Love
Contemplate
Seek
Ask
Play
April 20, 2013
Utilizing Saturday
...and another! Fantastic fun.
Jamie & JackJack
Graphite, Charcoal, Conte on Paper
28" x 36"
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