Tag Archives: lonely

Auspicious day

9 years ago today, I presented “fuck stats make art” to a full house at SXSW, scored hash brownies and MDMA in Austin, drank whiskey backstage with the black angels. 11 years ago, signed up for Twitter. Also brother Bob’s birthday.

These days, a challenge to just get out of bed for a cup of tea… I’m really trying to “move on”, find “acceptance” and “close the book on old life” but it sure the fck ain’t easy with such wild & fulfilling actions in my past

#thanksforlistening #nosympathy #freehugs #trying

Beige unrelenting present…

 

Every day brings
An anniversary of something grand
So much promise and vigor
Graceful ambition, earnest yearning
“Don’t let the past affect the future”
Sound so easy
Until the beige unrelenting present
Brings another morning of pain

So many years now
Trying, climbing, sliding
Up the slides of a slippery well
Fighting, accepting, relenting
Leaves with only
Exhaustion from the inevitable slide

The shaggy dog comes to rest beside
Oddly purring softly, sedately
Sharpening his claws
Glancing up at me
Noted
I am left alone

I am left alone

Preserving the Wildflower – Postcard #69

pfgb-wildflower-sm

What becomes of the seemingly ephemeral creations we leave behind? Especially in the analog-days?

Consider these in the context of missing cassette tapes made by a now departed poet/activist/scholar Foster and guitar-ing Mikael, who recorded spontaneous youthful riffs in parent’s basement in Utah. In this postcard, Mikael  Lewis sings “Wildflower (for Foster)” written by Dave in a clinic in Nepal, then adds some more verses, spiels and a poem called “Occasionally Free” – with lightning, rainstorm and crickets chiming along.

Catch lightning with Preserving the Wildflower – Postcard #69
(25MB, 14:22, mp3, stereo)

Continue reading Preserving the Wildflower – Postcard #69

Cold Water Flat

V.1

Landlady’s always angry

So I keep stranger hours

Meditate to TV static

Decorate with fresh flower

V.2

Use the payphone downstairs

Still with a rotary dial

Instant coffee in electric kettle

Takeaway leftovers wrapped in foil

C.1

I will wait for you

In this cold water flat

Paid 3 months in advance

For this walk-up tenement

V.3

I’ve waited near a decade now

Loved other in between

But affections are on hiatus

Until you conquer me

V.4

Complications acknowledged

I’m complicit to the scheme

Reinvention and retribution

Or maybe something in between

C.2

I’m still waiting for you

In this cold water flat

Three storey Victorian lady

I’ve mailed you a scribbled map

V.5

Hot water register yawns

Either freezes of burns

Three coins to run the washer

Dirt spins and I yearn

V.6

Two bricks and stolen planks

Fashion a sturdy coffee table

Year old magazines bore me

Come quickly – as soon as you’re able

V.7

Registered with a fake name

Though i’ve nothing to fear

Endearments terms are wide open

Come by whenever, I’m always here

C.3

I’m here sequestered

In this cold water home

Hinges are rusty squeaky

Mournful jazz saxophone

V.8

Gave up the booze mostly

And usually the smokes

My addictions have changed now

Hooked on lamenting lost hope

V.9

I’m better than you expected

Finer than you’ve wished

My heart is wide open

Like a cliche cinema kiss

C.4

Please come to me

In this cold water room

I’ve survived the winter barely

And desire you so very soon

B.1

There’s a broken bidet

and a persian french cat

striped awning across the street

where strangers wait for a bus

going home to a fresh bottle

cork just popped by a lover

or even a gentle friend –

envy is useless emotion

as is its cousin jealousy

takes all my self-restraint

to maintain dignity

not shout out the window

go home, go quick

love you fools, be loved

Rome, Lonely – Items: Forgotten in Drawers (vol. 3)

Rome, Lonely – Items: Forgotten in Drawers
Rome, Lonely – Items: Forgotten in Drawers

Holiday Postcard Club

Holidays might be tuff for you
Its not weird to be feeling blue
If you’re overwhelmed, lost or sad
Send me an post address
I’ll ink a postcard direct to you
(Note: my handwriting is often bad)

NOTE: Join the Postal Club.

Portrait(ish): Friend of Samurai

Time-travelling to bringing cultural exchange to the Meiji period in Kagoshima / sticks of swords, sneakers over sandals, books for all!

So Many Miles

So many miles I’ve traveled
Just to find two friends
A lover and a sidekick
Who are with me to the end

Vertical feet gained
To find the thinnest air

The porthole is my telescope
any day beyond is your relevant
so I create a religion to explain
The things I cannot see

Then, with brass bolts,
connect to reality

Vaguely surfacing…

Today, I attempt to vaguely surface from the painful fog of a feverish week. Next steps are difficult. Slowly slowly rebuild and regroup.

I’m as weak as a kitten and must be gentle and patient with myself. Kindly remind me. Sipping diluted apple juice, saltines. This isn’t new.

Since I was a wee babe, dehydration, fevers, and gastro conundrums have confounded me and doctors. There is no diagnosis, just incidents.

The list has grown long: vague memories in Germany alone, Guam’s hospital, Eugene, Mexico with glass IV so many nights writhing. Holding on.

The list of doctors and specialists and tests and scans and samples and processes and surgeries and examinations and medications is lengthy.

Each time, my physical elastic is stretched and dries a little bit more and snapping back to form is more challenging and less satisfying.

I loathe the days lost, heart lost, confidence lost – the experience is painful but the bits I miss might hurt even more. I feel apologetic.

I thrive on enjoying things with others & loathe to see people worry or spread spend precious energy tending to me. Though they don’t mind.

In the feverish flashbacks, I lose track of what was real and what was imagined and which happened before. Did we have that conversation?

My escape: to breathe vicariously through you. Your graduation, your running for mayor, your band’s on tour, you’ve taken a train trip.

For all my adventures, travels, and hijinks, one doubt always nags the back of my head: will I physically collapse for reasons unbeknownst?

Indeed conditions of the erstwhile gastrointestinal tract are not the greatest malady to affect we delicate humans but, i wasn’t asked.

Aside from the opportunity cost of the events I miss, the lost creativity, & distress upon others, I struggle with the blues of being weak.

The next steps never get easy: letting go of the lost past, writing off precious days, and trying to simply stand & remember importantness.

Important: creating stories, sharing with others, reminding people they are loved, letting people go, helping people flourish. Helping me.

My mind and my soul is where my attention goes. My body is a vehicle and, like my beloved VW bus, not always reliable- yet I tend diligently.

Almost 43 years old, I’m an assembly line of careful creation – this is what I live for. I want to do so much more, I have an endless supply.

Yes, I’ve adjusted lifestyles, foods, routines, herbal teas, magic formulas, endless acupuncture, and avoiding toxins & fried foods. Bored.

I even try to “slowdown” but I’m not sure what people do when they “slowdown” – Do they not know the world is waiting for them? Clock ticks.

I have two speeds: quite fast or almost stopped. I go go go because I like to & don’t want to miss life. Sleep has never come easily to me.

Now, here in bed remembering hospitals and clinics, tents & tears, machines whirring, ceiling fans spinning, convulsions and concerns, I try.

But slowing down and taking care of myself doesn’t really seem to make a difference. Is my physiology weak? If so, there’s nothing I can do.

Slowing down means doing less. This sounds very pleasant by some readings but in others, limits what I give. Shall I start to say “no”? No.

Giving my creations, my energy, my enthusiasm, my knowledge is the manna which fortifies me through the high times and the lowest. Makes me.

Shall i be more selective? But I love each chance to share! Shall I expect to receive more for what I give? That’s not my reason for giving.

PS Used to be my social posting barrages came from bus rides but now, from doctors offices #Waiting #healing #Grateful Just so you know…