Monday, January 26, 2015

You and Your Familiar

They've moved on. Embraced another and of course you're "happy", as you should be. But what do you do with the memories of wild tumbled sheets, sweat skinned angles, the deep irised moment of understanding? Intimacy exchanged...sight within, seen to the Nth degree; quantum eyes.

Meanwhile you bathe in animalistic tendencies of another kind because, let's face it, no love affair is ever similar and there is no comparison. There is only beast, tongue, sweat and the hope of something close to the center. That beat that means everything... and turns out can be so easily passed to another.  You can pine for it, hate it even, but there is no communion quite like the one that Was.  We are nothing but animals clamoring for the taste of blood flesh. Poor animals, are we, missing that what was and may be.

Photo:  Whitecrow Soul and Raven via Laura Miner

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Fade Into Blue

Mazzy Star, Jarvis Cocker, Richard X...that bell chime hook, the treble heights, the swoony guitar.  Eternal favorite meets loungy intellectual remix.  (I recently read that in a music review... "intellectual lounge music" and wondered, is that really a thing?  Whatever, this is my version.)

Artwork: Daniele Buetti

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Like the Streets In April

My love for Daniel Knox goes way way back.  See here and here.  I'm delighted that tonight he posted this gorgeous 1930s tune by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields.  Misty eyed and heart achingly full at his lovely, as one recent review so aptly described, "voluptuous baritone".  I'm glad people like Daniel live in the world.

Once April fooled me
With an afternoon so gold
So warm, so beguiling
That I thought the drowsy earth would wake up smiling
But April fooled me then
The night grew cold

Once someone fooled me
With a kiss that touched my heart beyond all believing
But, like April, that sweet moment was deceiving
It was not really spring
Or really love

You were alike, you two
Restless April fooled me
Darling so did you . . .

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Chariot Of Pink Eyes

In tarot circles, The Chariot, is a mysterious card of will, determination, strength.  A card of opposite forces living in paradox.  In motion while still, masculine yet feminine, the chariot moves through the conscious to the unconscious.  It speaks of getting what you want but at what price? 

With that in mind, I'm giddy over Magic Wand's latest track Chariot off of their forthcoming album, Jupiter.  I've been in love with them since 2009 when their truly magical 4 track EP, Magical Love and Dreams, came out and I saw them open for The Kills. 

It's the perfect track to dream away on as I'm pretty convinced I've contracted conjunctivitis and being a Queen of the Drama Queens, I'm also convinced my eye is going to fall out of its socket and I'll have to wear a patch.  Pirate priestess, I suppose I could live with that. 

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

It's Never Over

There are some things that never leave us.  It's been a long time coming but I've finally posted the draft I wrote the day of my grandmother's funeral.  It's here.  Some stories are here, here , here but most are buried in this blog or elsewhere.  Regardless these stories reverberate so much deeper and last far longer than I care to remember.  The days spent with her in the nursing home after her demonic husband beat and abandoned her.  Cleaning her fecal matter from her most private of areas because no one else would while she cried and longed for the man that put her there, forgetting he was the reason.  The anguish and anger at both the justice system for doing nothing and the disease that took her far too soon but let her linger here far too long. 

I cannot describe the last two years; actually, I can.  Too Much.  Maybe it will come one day; rising to the surface, like yeasty bread left to do its business.  Words will make sense of it at some point, right?  I mean, I moved to California and moved across the country back again for love.  A love that morphed into something else and here I am, figuring it all out Again.  An orphan three times over.  I no longer feel sorrow or anger; only a void.  We are not Family, nor are the people we choose called Family.   We are guaranteed nothing.  Just the moment we are in.  Be it what it is.  There is no hope, no desire, no joy strong enough to sustain us in perpetuity. All is flux.  If this is what Buddhism promises as liberation, I'm still endeavoring to understand the difference between non-attachment and its lesser foster dog, Nothing. 

I once posted this song in the hope I would find the Family I crave.  It was, and in some measure continues to be, a hunger that is never really satiated.  Perhaps that's okay... perhaps what we called heartbreak and wickedness is really something more like Natasha Khan's alter ego, Pearl.  The call to our true selves.

Image credit: Ville Andersson, Dreyer 2012

Hold Your Loins

We hold ourselves quietly.  We say things like, "You're killing me" as we bare our teeth in gestures of friendship and laughter.  We say, "I'm dying over here" as we hug.  Holding our secrets close, holding our counsel.  Hold inward that which makes us who we are.  Hiding in shame, privacy, or wantonness a colloquial teratoma of epic proportions.  Just like this song, the best song, croons... we live like we're dying to breathe.

It's all happening again.  Just like the last time but not the same.  It's not love, not contentment, not home, something bubbling deep within.  Something is coming, something again.  Only this time I can't see it.  I see nothing but this moment.  I feel it close, on the verge of what?  Is it birth?  The contractions of this teratoma demanding space?  An explosion, a trickle?  Maybe just like J. Spaceman says, I'm probably just hungry.   Or have to pee.

Image by Paolo Reversi
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