Driving Wild

Re-write your life.
Making it a biography about a famous mastermind,
Pull out all the stops,
Make yourself a strong runner with an unbeatable stride,
Win points,
Be competitive
But also loving.

Pinpoint what the people around you care about and get at it,
to make more of it.

Bring joy to the table.

Be consistent.

(If you watch me for long enough, aren't I ? )

Jump to it, mastermind.

Backfiring plans are just coincided with a re-directive.
Do it strongly
And surely

As they say, "Change Positions"

Look opposition in the face, lonely bird.
Fly at night,

Fly by night.

You always knew you would be here.
Masking this does what ?   NOTHING.

Using quotes for no reason like a marble copy book full of dreams,
Write on the walls.

Write a mantra in lipstick on the mirror.
Kiss it.

Always kiss it before you kill it.
Kiss the roof when you run a yellow light

Bellow at the moon
Find your birthplace
Draw a line to the equator and jump on it like a zip line.

Be wealthy.
Be warily aware of poverty thought.
Don't stock up on things like it's the end of the world, Baby.

It has just begun.  

A Subtle Pause Every Day for a Lifetime (when Frank was dying)

Sitting in my living room, almost sweating with the heat at 85 degrees, I listened to a Rolling Stones song that I listened to on repeat when my father died.  In the past, I would not be able to breathe when I heard the song.  Now, it is not so much the case.  I'm not sure why.

What do people go through when someone dies?  

I have used a story I know about elephants grieving to allude to what the human emotion is around death.  I can tell the story because it has resonated with me and saturated my experience with a deep and earthly understanding.

For me, I went through regret at first, as if it was my fault he had died.  I was overwhelmed with guilt because I wasn't a good daughter and we weren't like the fathers and daughters I saw in movies.

Yet, I relate to Ariel and Poseidon in the Little Mermaid.  My father knew everything, but he still didn't understand me.  It wasn't until I was an adult that I found out that he DIDN'T HAVE TO understand me to be there for me.  And he was.  And I was a teenager doing what most teenagers do.  And he was like my best buddy when I was growing up, which brings me the literal & very realistic relation, most relative to human grieving.  

When your buddy dies, you call out.  You make a call.  You sound the alarm.

It is exactly what the elephants do.  They live as long as we do and longer.  They are younger than Sea Turtles, perhaps, but the elephants are mammals.  They are like us.  Their brains are the same size as ours, if not larger.

When one of them dies, they make a call.  Their herds call to each other and the signal reaches hundreds of miles.  They congregate.  And they form a procession.  And this is a fact.  

It is how I understand death.  It's been that way since I was 16.  I got a hold on it.  

I can meditate on the image in my mind and I can feel it in my heart and my gut.

The bottom of my feet become warm when I think about it.  

When I think I know it all, that means I am in trouble, so I say this with the sentiment that the unknown things in life are OKAY NOT TO UNDERSTAND, as long as the elephants know what to do.  

My cousin, who was my father's best friend when he was a child; she wrote a poem that won an award.  She read it for an audience recently.  And it was about an elephant.  The elephant was beloved.  And I don't know exactly what she wrote because I wasn't there for the reading, but I am certain it was 'something else'.  That's the word on the street.  And I mean, literally, when I was walking with an agent of the Mayor on the sidewalk on Gay Street, he knew about the poem and made an "Mmmm" sound when he thought about it in recollection.  

My cousin describes my mother and I as "other worldly," and I like to think it means we're tapped into something else.  The other stuff that we can't quite know about, but we coincidentally make connections that make for a subtle pause.  

    

Like Goldie Locks, Only the Baltimore Version

I recently compared a very serious journalist and friend to Little Red Riding Hood;
It's only fair that I become an unflattering Grimm legend too

I will be like Goldie Locks

I will be uncomfortable.

I will not be able to sleep in strange beds.

And one day, it will be JUUUUUUUUUUST RIGHT.

And that time is now.

 I will eat your food and sleep in your bed and we'll be friends forever and ever amen.

That's it for now.

Good Love Is Hard & Superlatives are Under-Utilized

We forget there is still work after everything works out just fine, do we not?

The trouble is finding and manipulating what in the myriad of toils is WORTH it.

What is worth my pain in neck?

What is worth walking through the pain?

Mostly, I chose while torturing myself with the pondering, something new.

Always new. Always better. The *end all be all* of great loves always ends in catastrophe.

And when good love is not magic and hot and full of curious climax & crescendo, do we not find ourselves at a desert mesa with no horizon ;

feeling something like I imagine that man felt in the movie 127 hours.

It's not coyote ugly, honey, when you gnaw your own arm off to get away from that face;

It's more like, "my work is done here."

There are some goodbyes in my future.

There was this pitiful moment when I met with a friend (who shares the same name as me) at the very end of a trip home and she point blank told me that she was avoiding me because our first long term goodbye was so difficult that she didn't even want to see me. Saying farewell again would just bring it all back. The pain.

When I left my home, it was a 'leave them wanting more' scene. It was dramatic. It was energetic. I left when all the molecules were racing around each other in the heat. The ocean wind was carrying all of my friends to loftier ideas about life and situations.

Meanwhile, passion and romance were like bad re-runs of COPS episodes. We'd watch them over and over. The romance was like a throw-yourself-down-in-the-street and whine ' PLEASE DON'T GO! " There was dignity in living so balls-out and HEARTS out.

How can that be captured?

I was online meeting people months ago and I came across a friend who has shown me some magic. There still is that type of kinetic stuff that doesn't make you get married; but it makes you wade through quick sand and float for hours down a river with a panama-jack hat on and swearing on the Holy Ghost that butterflies landed on my head of all varying colors; and not being sure where I would sleep that night; but not wanting it particularly to be at home.

Some of them were white. Some were black with electric irridescent blue, and it reminded me of the courtyard at my old studio apartment when those butterflies would either hatch or stop for something along their migration. Good god, there were at least fifty, maybe a hundred and they came every year.

And every year I would forget that they existed until I saw them again. Amnesia.

Jeremy, I feel exactly that, and I confess, I am perhaps needing you to be my neighbor again. And we can nickname our lovers again. We can nickname our friends. We will be famous for having known each other. That is a fact.

And how I would love to introduce you to my new friends, whom I already love. And I wish I had you in my pocket because you make a pocket of enthusiasm in my deep deepest soul.

You are the hungry within the hungriest artist.

I spoke your name; and it was to a friend who shares the same name as you. I spoke as if you were there. And it was confusing for a moment for both he and I. And I used your last name to identify you because I guess your mom married some guy and took his name, so I used that name instead of whatever Myan Alien last name there is that you have in the whatever in between spaces of metaphysics and dreams has not tied you down with, but clips at the back of your heels. Not that names define anyone. Our nicknames are genius. And you are my brother. The other brother. Reverend Doctor Barr that you are.

I summoned you because I am taking you back on the roller coaster with me. A water slide that shoots you into space skidding right into that black matter on the edge of expansion.

See you there. ( Four letter words here to rejoice instead of denounce because I'm in Baltimore and it actually is kind of like the Wire, even though I resent the fact. )

Wow, That's So Cryptic,

Even I think it sounds psychotic

zombie line dance

Wishful thinking all weekend
Cherry Blossoms
21 Jumpstreet
There is no dancing except at the redneck redline party

Periscope Demotion