I'm Still Undone

Earlier this week I saw Orville Peck live in concert, after waiting for four moons.  One of my dear friends gave me a ticket four months ago on my birthday.  But four moons sounds so much lonelier.... languishing in the desert for four long moons.  See?  It works.

Since then, listening to anything else has proven more than difficult.  I tried TR/ST The Destroyer Part 1, in preparation for The Destroyer Part 2 coming out next month and was even tempted by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds' Ghosteen but I just can't yet.  Even when I try, I'm only half listening.  In between recorded tracks, wisps and phrases of Orville's songs just continue to reverberate and haunt me across those moonlit mind deserts.



Hope to Die is my dark night of the soul track but there are so many standout gems.  Dead of Night.  Winds Change.  Roses are Falling.  Queen of the Rodeo.  Turn to Hate.  Buffalo Run.  Kansas (Remembers Me Now).

Pony is a truly a phenomenal debut album.

I'd like to say, for the record, how happy I am that a masked incognito gay cowboy crooning in beautiful vibrato baritone with tenor to soprano soaring swoons about homoerotic dark nights of the soul and transvestite Queens of the desert is making waves and winning over people by the hundreds of thousands.  The world needs him.  I need him.  Also, his whistling prowess is tear slash whoop worthy.

At the concert, he said several times how a song was about SOLIDARITY.  Yes, love, it is.  Thank you.

**Edit: New Order Age of Consent and Fleetwood Mac Gypsy caught me on my sojourn into the world tonight, so maybe there's hope for me. *winking riding a horse into the sunset emoji

In a Day

Just when I think I've nothing to share and nothing to grasp that inspires me.... Something comes along so precious and lovely, I'm beyond enthralled.

Beautiful Pale Dian..please please please more.  I adore you. 



They have ONE song posted.  ONE.  Desperation... I long for more more more.

https://paledian.bandcamp.com/

He Is Mine

So, I get a bit sour and cantankerous from time to time.  He doesn't bat an eyelash.




13th Floor Elevators // You're Gonna Miss Me  // 1966

But he sends the sweetest things

13th Floor Elevators // Bull of the Woods // May the Circle Remain Unbroken // 1968

I love him for it... but he has no idea.

Intrinsic Reunion

Feelings; we can't contain them.  Dammit, they fill us.  Submerge our lungs in gigantica and fly around us like stupid midges; bothering our more productive lives.

Effervescent tingles; orbs of hope tickling every memory; without touching; it's absolute heaven.

He lifts me to bubbly heights; his brief hands on my chest, his excited eyes about his latest find, and joyful loveliness...  So beautiful.





The problem with champagne is the hangover it brings; i.e. the heartache that his interactions mean.  Being with him feels like basking in the sun, only to be abruptly moved into the shadows.  His gorgeous crystalline light is what it is; fleeting like a moody climate.  So fucking dramatic but I swear, if you met him, you'd agree.  He has that effect on everyone, no lie.

Bright eyes, beautiful smile, wicked intelligence. 

Much to his chagrin and or ego, the world loves him and often worships him.  And why would they not?  He gives everything while shining love and gentleness like the sun with that radiant smile.  But they don't know him, not like I do. His untoward secrets and everything he hides behind that lovely mask.  It's the tiddly-widdly parts of him that I love most. The parts he's shared with no one; the parts I'm privy to.

Dammit.  I'm afraid I can never cherish anyone else the same way.

You came out of nowhere
Stealing my heart and brain
Flaming my every cell
You make me feel myself

Across the time and space
A never-ending dance
A blooming and a trance

You make me feel my soul
There's no more loneliness
Only sparkles and sweat
There's no more single fate
You make me feel myself

Closing The Circle

Diving deep into the depths.  Swimming in the currents amongst the ocean's voluptuous secrets;  the varying waves whisper against our skins.  Sometimes warm, sometimes arctic; an exploration like no other.  One forgotten.  No, not forgotten; one placed in the memories of the oceanographer.  Old and frail, he spends his time categorizing the depths he once felt in a sunshine youth.

Remembering the careful and quiet coral curves, the delicately violent flip of a shark's fin, the watery effervescence of solitude, of togetherness.  While marking the geographic undulations of hills, valleys, currents and oceanic life; there is a closing of the circle.  A love that no one can understand; that no one can map.  Not even the divers.



Catherine Wheel //  Fripp // Chrome // 1993

Reclamations

Along with the color red, I'm reclaiming a lot of things lately that I've let fall by the Hansel and Gretel wayside.  Watching this, I may have just jumped out of my seat and squealed.

Pitchfork.tv is producing a documentary on the eponymous '93 album, Souvlaki, by Slowdive on June 15th.  Tune in!

Eat My Dust, You Insensitive Fuck

Spiraled and unraveled, call the truth to your bosom as best you can. 

I know, I know, I know.

Angel

Did you know I work at a yoga studio?  It's a place that brings all walks of life on their various paths of transition;  a place of healing, camaraderie, frustration, Freak Flag Flying, disorganization and happiness.  So many beautiful, agonizing and eye-opening relationships have been forged there.  Just yesterday, a semi-famous British Justin Timberlake impersonator/colleague visiting for only a couple of months and I shared a meditation and tarot card reading at my favorite spot, the Rothko Chapel. We have that rare connection that allows you to say whatever it is that you're feeling, what you see.  The sight of your eyes but also that second sight, the sight that most judge you as being a burden, a fallacy or even a joke. 

Forbidden wine graces my lips for the first time in weeks as I celebrate quietly a promotion and I inhale the scent of carefully kept incense as well as the carefully kept secret of my private pleasure, smoking.  As my ex-lover soaks in the sun on a foreign beach, his disdain of its comforting floral opium presence matters little to me.   It burns as does my will.  I loved him and maybe he even loved me, once.  Believed him to be the person that would help transcend my soul.  And so it was.   As he as said numerous times, we are nothing if not puppets of our astrology.



This moment is precious.  One of gratitude and connection; I know She is with me.  So much has been sacrificed to learn.  It's an end and also only a beginning.



The angel of love was upon me
And lord I felt so small
The legs beneath me weaken
I began to crawl
Confused and contented
I slithered around
Reveal is beyond me
I was lost I was found

The angel of love was upon me
And lord I felt so weak
I felt my tongue move in my mouth
And I began to speak
A strange kind of language
I don't understand
A babbling fountain
I couldn't have planned

I Will Never Disappear

Gone are the hopes of childhood.  There is no hope anymore, it is just this that keeps us alive.   It's something else that keeps us warm... Is it a trickle?  A delicious bouncing percussion that reminds me that music holds all?  Humor...the absurdity of it all.

Tonight I attempted to open a bottle of wine, quietly away from my ex-lover who sleeps so fitfully in the next room.  The lover who told me less than a week ago that he's in love with another woman.  He tells me tonight that he needs to travel to a beautiful island to grieve.  For us?  I'm so hopeful.  NO.  He needs to go because the woman he is in love with has rejected him and now he (quote) has no one (end quote).  He can't be here and needs someone to look after his other love, a furry feline by the name of Karma. 

Go away, you wretched person; you blind imbecile.  My fingers ache to rend unholy acts upon your body.. unspeakable actions; you impossible foul fossil. 

YOU ARE THE MOST INCREDIBLY BLIND, SELFISHLY CONNIVING, MANIPULATING, MISOGYNISTIC, NARCISSISTIC, SOCIOPATHIC FUCKING WANKER ASSHOLE.




Later this evening, the eruption of emotions found itself quietly but effervescently in the opening of an innocuous wine bottle.  No wine bottle opener meets a tomato knife.  The stuff of comic legend ha-ha-ha.  Reality:  the contents of my wine bottle splashed everywhere.  The mirror, the sink, the soap dispenser, the essential oils, the jewelry dish, the wall, the toothpaste holder, the grout between the bottle of shaving gel I bought he never uses and the bottles of essential oils I always swore I would. I cleaned it all.  Giggling quietly; knowing full well, that even if I clean the wine off everything, there will still be pieces of myself left behind when I leave.  
  
I'm laying down, eating snow
My fur is hot, my tongue is cold
On a bed of spider webs
I think of how to change myself

Where Everyone Would Love To Drown

In all my years on this planet, in this incarnation, I've never experienced shame about passion.  Vulnerability, certainly.  Weird whinging feelings fleeing wildly everywhere causing shameovers galore.  We all are taught, bashed over the head even, that passion is paramount.  It's the apex that we all are encouraged to embrace.  Is it a sin to yearn and ache for consensual copulation; to grow sore and achy after a night of love-making?  How can you violate someone that you yearn for, begging with need, for that powerful release?  I'm lost.  Truly lost.  Uncomprehending and angry.  He loves another and calls me a family member. 

Karma, some say, is a bitch.  The vehicle through which we deserve what we've perpetrated unto others, doubled back onto us.  I prefer to see it as a lesson to be learned.  Fucking people over, being fucked over... I've left behind the just getting fucked.   Love, for me, must be an algorithm I can't seem to unravel.  The future is a blind, nebulous place; one rich in Nothing.  It's a new situation, opening oneself and bending all your rules just to be dumped for being too passionate.  A coworker told me tonight that because of my love of Bjork, I should just get a cat and get it over with.  The getting over with becoming that crazy lady who loves cats and listens to music.   Um... done and done.

If there are any of my ex-lovers out there, feel free to gloat.  I feel it in all my bones, the loss of loving someone who doesn't love you in return.  Humbled and bruised, I'm sorry, it's nothing glamorous.  But, it's real.  This is the song I've craved multiple times a day for the last three days, on repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Like medicine for the mind, the heart... the kind that does nothing but remind you of what you've lost.



Wait a minute baby
Stay with me awhile
Said you'd give me light
But you never told me about the fire

Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
When you build your house
Then call me home

And he was just like a great dark wing
Within the wings of a storm
I think I had met my match, he was singing
And undoing, and undoing the laces
Undoing the laces

Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change, never stop
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
But when you build your house
Then call me home
 

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

Zola Jesus - Poor Animal 

And Waves Are All I Want To Hear

The March winds have started blowing early tonight.  Wild gusts tear limbs from trees and surprise sensitive epidermis with nippy bites, a reminder to us all in the groin of America that even though it's been balmy and summery during the day for weeks, winter still has a voice.  Add to to the tumult that it's also a full moon and someone mentioned Mercury is in retrograde so wildness likely abounds.  If you're out and about, be mindful of contracts, technologies and bad decisions.. they'll likely confound you at every turn.

Three days remain for me in my Womb and with my pup Mavis and yet I've done little to pack or finalize this phase in my life.  Strange that I look around me at the possessions I've acquired and cherished for so long and yet I feel so weary of them.  Wouldn't it be wonderful when starting over if you could just magically be done with the Now and be transported into Tomorrow?  The grunt work doesn't interest me in the least; daydreams are so much more real to me. Wishing for the new home and phase wrapped in the strong supple arms of my Mandala Lover embracing the new, minus the boxes, pup rehoming and exertion.  Acceptance of change is funny like that.  Ok Change, I'm ready for you.  This is cool but get it over with already.

The Stranglers - North Winds Blowing


I saw an orange robe burning
I saw youth on fire
I saw metal machine that were turning
On a generation that hadn't yet tired

I heard of two generations being murdered
In a Europe that was shrouded in black
I witnessed the birth pains of new nations
When the chosen people finally went back

North winds blowing
I wish it would blow all away
North winds blowing
I wish they would blow all away
I wish they would blow all away

I saw freedom in the shape of disease
And mainly men had to quench their desire
And while a few could do just as they pleased
I saw kids whose bellies were all on fire

When all is dead and war is over
When hollow victory has been won
Who will joing in the celebration
Or the evil that just can't be undone

North winds blowing
I wish it would blow all away
North winds blowing
I wish they would blow all away
I wish they would blow all away

I used to dream about destruction
But now that I feel it getting near
I spend my time watching the ocean
And waves are all I want to hear

I wish I was a believer
I'd spend less time in being sad
So may laws against disbelieving
Don't know who's good or who's bad

Photo by Werner Bokelberg

Make It Roar At Me.. And I Roar Back

Tonight Gypsy and I discussed that Love, the love that brings us to the brink of destruction.  The love that tempts us to break down all boundaries, all expectations, all worries... the energy that consumes, that Will that drives you to willfully push all your desire ALL OVER ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING THAT STANDS IN YOUR WAY.

We explored how this desire is inherently erotic and sexual, destructive and constructive and how it is fundamentally different from our Lovers... those who either are Scorpio or who have predominant Scorpio in their charts.  She is Aries, so fiery, direct and Of The Moment and we touched upon how she is learning to embrace her hidden emotional needs.  I love her for this.  I am of this nature too... in my own quieter sneaky ways.  When she loves, she loves like a fire volcano... and this understanding rumbles deep within this fire heart.  Fire can burn everything, it can consume everything it touches leaving nothing but a scarred barren landscape with nothing left to grow.  This is an energy I've led with for a very long time.  Dormant versus fiery volcano.

As a wanton Fire Heart, my desire is to learn how to transcend that my Force is an energy of Love, Acceptance, Adoration without crossing wires with Overbearing, Controlling, Ignorance.  Teaching Gypsy tonight [and myself] that subtlety, gentleness, tenderness and openness weigh more than overabundance brought me to a place of humility and vulnerability.  When I bend, when I cry with my Lover... when the walls dissolve and my tears flow forth... all my needs are met.  She embraces and absorbs my pain and I am wide open, cradling her beautiful heart within my ribs.  Eroticism is more than bodies, breath and limbs. When she exhales her miraculous breath, I taste divinity and discover solace is a place, known and named. 



How humbling my relationship to Bjork has been through this incredible transcendent love affair, I cannot express in this post, though I've shared more Bjork songs with my Mandala Lover more so than any other person.  Bjork has been my voice for so long, my solace.. sharing her is a very personal thing.  I can say that in this moment, I am beyond appreciative that I'm no longer Violently Happy... I am anchored.  Which is why these two songs now have an honored immortal place in my Sequential Favorites playlist.   



This morning my Lover came to meet me while this song played in the background and we met with such a passion, I kissed her with all that I am.  With all I feel, with all I can give through the movements of strings and vocalities - I give to her... she is the most precious gift.

She is l'eau de ma vie... the water of my life. 

 I live by the ocean
and during the night

I dive into it
down to the bottom
underneath all currents
and drop my anchor

and this is where I'm staying

This is my home

When We Mean Soft Things

A key turning, a pivotal shift... a parallel universe.  That was then, this is now and so much is healed in the microcosm.  So much of what I craved and willed with angry possession is now given effortlessly and lovingly.  This new language is baffling in its familiarity and yet I am so at home.

My lover is camping, with no phone or means of active communication and I've been left to my own devices.  Not alone because I've spent the days in active communion with so many beautiful people and am solidifying my new being.   This person that loves this person, without fear and doubt.  I am stretching these new wings and muscles, feeling comfortable in this new skin of identity.  She is herself.  I am myself.  We love each other.  Trusting these truths that braid tenderly, as we grow together.

 There was the night spent with the two Spiritual Healer Mothers and how their incredible energies combined to aid in a cathartic VOCAL release of so many years of pain, I howled with red hot tears on an art collector's turret patio with the skyline in attendance and was then so subsequently loved and supported my little wounded child within feels like singing, not hiding.  There was Vegan Soup Night and cocktail chats spent with Skywalker laughing about the pecularities of relationships and the strange concessions we make along the way for love and how they don't bind, these loving restraints we encourage.  And today's amazing four hour vegan breakfast taco brunch time with Skywalker and Christine where we covered so many continents of conversation: relationships, love, politics, geographical identity, dancing followed by wine night with Cherokee and that healing thing that occurs when you stop being retractive and open up to another person.  She and I are uncovering how to better communicate with our Loves, how to stop the Angry Train and stop screaming for what you need.  Stop.  Think.  Breathe.  Commune.  With soft truth.

I miss my darling One but I'm also grateful to experience what it's like to be in love and not feel desperate for them all the time.  She will be with me soon, I will bathe in her warmth and share with her all that we've experienced soon enough.  This is new, this precious space... I am not afraid without her, I envision her peace and happiness as she communes with her friends, with nature, with herself.  I know she's thinking of me as she is loving herself and her life and I am doing the same. 

Fear breeds jealous, anger, judgement, criticism and results in smallness of spirit.  Manifesting in wonderful open ways, love is expansive.  It grows and grows and in turn creates undulating beauty in others, rippling in perpetuity.  I'm so humble and grateful, there just aren't enough words in my vocabulary to speak of this shift. Using the same sorts of words of gratitude and warmth over and over again to express such a feeling is old and doesn't really say how profoundly [     ] I actually am... I need new words.   Dark and nebulous is my accustomed language, I swim in the dark and murky depths with relative ease;  navigating light, love and openness is awkward and makes me... shy.   My spirit and face blush, I hide my face in my right shoulder and hunch inward basking in a wonderful inward feeling [that is almost shameful in its fullness] just as my lover reminds me the peaceful rosy apples of my cheeks are beautiful and gently draws my face into hers.   Drawing myself into the light of her healing being, she carefully reassures me we are perched on this limb of our love together.

Song meanings are changing for me in profound ways as my life changes profoundly.  Have you experienced this?  How you used to hear a song a certain way and after an undetermined time you hear it differently?  It's a subtle shift but one that strikes my innards.  For example, take one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands.  I used to mantra this song while in the depths of my last relationship, pleading to the universe we could transcend and love each other the way we both needed to be loved.  Oh how the lyrics of this song would haunt me in our daily interactions.  Now I mantra the following lines within myself as a reminder to appreciate and worship my lover.  To always consider in my thoughts and actions how to support, love and cherish mon petit cadeau.    

Why do we keep shrieking, when we mean soft things.  We should be whispering all the time.

The Magnetic Fields - 100,000 Fireflies


I have a mandolin
I play it all night long
It makes me want to kill myself
I also have a dobro
Made in some mountain range
Sounds like a mountain range in love

But when I turn up the tone
On my electric guitar
I'm afraid of the dark without you close to me

I went out to the forest and caught
A hundred thousand fireflies
As they ricochet round the room
They remind me of your starry eyes
Someone else's might not have made me so sad
But this is the worst night I ever had

'cause I'm afraid of the dark without you close to me
You won't be happy with me,
But give me one more chance
You won't be happy anyway

Why do we still live here
In this repulsive town?
All our friends are in New York

Why do we keep shrieking,
when we mean soft things?
We should be whispering all the time...

Silkworm Sounds

There are whispers, undercurrents and eddies within and they have a sound, a language all their own.  Do you understand them?  These are the steps we walk, translated and prismatic.. leading us to a center estuary.  Lulled to the beat and pulse of my lover's pure heart thrumming so close to my own, these precious moments of solace and peace.  In a strange precipice of consciousness, these sounds urge me to mold that ever present fear into ribbons of warmth and light.  Tendrils of transcendent cocoons that heal and never harm.  For her, I will shift mountains.

Sweeter Than Heaven, Hotter Than Hell

Am I dreaming?  Limbs entangled, our breath inhalation breeds magic.   My lover lays supine and supple beneath me as I whisper sweet nothings to her en francais [tu es le beau soleil dans ma vie] as my hands perform their not so sweet hungry manipulations.  Working spells of holy communion, there is a sacred communication between my touch and her willing flesh.  She wonders what I'm thinking, what I mean about this exchange between our skins when I murmur quietly, drinking her in with complete intoxicated worship.  But I refuse to say, this is our time - epidermis and spirit, conversing in this secret language comprised of lusty prayers and her glorious limbs... such devotion to her perfect golden mandala body.

 

Florence & The Machine - Drumming Song

There's a drumming noise inside my head
That starts when you're around
I swear that you could hear it
It makes such an all mighty sound

Louder than sirens
Louder than bells
Sweeter than heaven
And hotter than hell

As I move my feet towards your body
I can hear this beat it fills my head up
And gets louder and louder
It fills my head up and gets louder and louder

I run to the river and dive straight in
I pray that the water will drown out the din
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn't wash the echoes out
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn't wash the echoes out

I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole
Till there's nothing left inside my soul
As empty as that beating drum
But the sound has just begun

Fire Heart

An ending and a beginning.  My crush has become my lover and I don't even know if I have the words to share.  Pause for reaction. Words are my life but with her I don't even need them.  We speak and we know.  We feel and we both understand.

My life has come full circle in the most beautiful strangest of ways.  First five years of heartache believing I'm worth nothing and then leaving the Babylon Tower which led me to embrace a life of serenity, grace and love and ultimately the most beautifully kind, emotional, intelligent, foxy, loving, accepting, sexually deviant, sensual human being I have ever met.  I feel so incredibly lucky after so many years of sadness, longing, loneliness, rage and ire to find the person that answers all the questions, hopes, fears and prayers I've embraced and expanded. 

She is, as I tell her often, mon petit cadeau [my little gift].  We wrap ourselves in emotional salt, wounded and healed; a warm bath of solidified faith - speaking the same language; both ephemerally and wholly connected in ways I've only dreamed of.  Our fire hearts astound me with their synchronicity, we both absorb and rebel and I am so incredibly lucky to have met her and am even more amazingly blessed she loves me. Many apologies if I don't spend much time here in the near future but I'm sure you can understand; in fact, I think I can hear teeny tiny hands clapping in applause... all my lovely followers converging to wish me happiness after so many years of sad loneliness.  Sunshine reigns.  Much warmth lovelings.

There are so many songs that my beautiful lover inspires me to hum, dance and share but this one leaves me feeling the most whole, the most shiny.


 

No Varlets or Harlots Here

It's more than a crush most definitely, more than a passing fancy I hope.  Let's be bold and say this is no Morrissey and Siouxsie Interlude.  I am so happy and this intoxicating precipice is terrifying. 

Russian Baths

Spooky moments.  I thought of him and he appeared.  

We talked of Turkish/Swedish/Russian Baths and subsequent cannibalistic terrors.  An absolute Dearest and one who despite distance and time understands the Crushing Depression and a shared love of ridiculous Asshole remarks.  I love him so, my darling Alien and we inevitably synchronistically see each other at transitional liminal interludes in our lives.  In those too brief moments I am home.

Thank you Universe.  Thank you for reminding me that relinquishing the square peg round hole dilemma was the right choice.

Desert Sessions - Crawl Home

  

The Durutti Column - Home

  

The Sea Dog

The swirls cast their hypnotic spells and what is left, eh?  Silenced tongue, nebulous thoughts as usual.  But then endearingly special ears and a voice that like the sound of the waves, the fluttering sensation of skirt to skin calm the squirrels and tension eases.  This ephemeral place where her words mirror your words, brains mind map and timing is no longer the mechanism that requires you to calculate or manipulate. No.  This is the syncopation of BE.  The most quiet, the most pure space of HERE.

Centered.  Relief.  Buoyancy.  This is love.

 

El Perro Del Mar - I Can't Really Talk About It