i did a thing!
i did a thing!
Sonya Gonzales & Henna Chou duo via COTFG at Museum of Human Achievement 3/22/2017
i can’t get over the difference
between our mornings — the gut-reacting leaps into our own days;
my losing of time,
finding the corner created
by your nape and the bed
your immediate rise
the heat from you, fading
killing the kindness our bodies kept
while sharing a night.
i leave only to return,
wishing to the blue wells
in your eyes
the questions your head confirms
pushing towards a morning rise
of answering to the only god
you’ll only allow yourself
to ever know.
the thing that permeates the most when spending time alone is this temporality of really deep moments, i’ve recognized. it’s almost like time goes by very quickly but yet you have these outlines of them that pull like an undercurrent, forcing you to wait for the next moment to happen. so it’s all you recognize as the days move on — how you felt/are feeling. time has its place but it’s just a place holder. it’s the top of the wave and all the things you think about when you’re alone are at the bottom. tugging and pulling you with and against. your fears and desires are with the moon. your days are with the shores. so there’s this contrast of you — a person who does and moves and walks and listens. but then there’s this other you who sinks into her thoughts and is quiet.
my dreams have been more consistent, lately. i’ve been wandering around a lot in huge spaces, seeking and curious. but i see now that everything i’ve had in the back of my mind is awake. pounding through the dark while i try to sleep. or fogging up my windows on the bus when i try to see. my breath warm and deep while listening to jazz. i’m always wandering around but unable to step outside of myself.
i’m busy, but not entirely distracted. so i have nothing else to really think about but my own thoughts.
and going two, three days without talking to anyone or saying anything has had an effect on me. i can’t tell if it’s good or bad at this point, but i’m aware.
sad, but aware.
i was meditating today and found myself attempting to draw in comfort and stillness through my breathing, alarmed at the flashes of dull light that were happening beneath my eyes. they were startling and seemed to increase in speed the more i focused on them. so i stopped trying to focus and just took in deeper breaths.
i was then in the passenger seat of a car. the window was down and there were green hills and mountains everywhere.
somewhere i’d already been.
my brain went back to the flashes of deep light — jagged and sharp / pummeling the process. so naturally, i was back in the car. inhaling the wind passing and embracing the breeze with my arms and shoulders.
and of course, since i was attempting to meditate, i allowed the thought to happen. trying to give it a name or a time or a place — some label to secure this obvious memory. something i didn’t want to let go of or try to erase.
the flashes eventually subsided as my lungs filled with me remembering the warmth of American air. the knowing of my childhood outside; camping and fishing and unaware of the disgruntled cold or constant rain, garbage-lined streets or double-decker buses. people, everywhere. all the time.
i found, in my head, the stillness i was searching for. not even trying to find it. just realizing the wind in my hands. the honesty of the trees. the west texas smile on your face.
“i was a television version of a person with a broken heart…”
my path was hijacked…
we all have our visions — guided dreams of our forever lives. with the weight of our love. declaring us still. into a known place.
and i had mine.
i dreamt of knowing. having certainty. pointing my finger. towards a direction. having a stance. of where i was sure.
but then someone stole it. right at the moment. when the lines in the road. started to appear. new, passing stripes. with calculated corners. fresh from earlier paint. sinking into the asphalt. heat-rising waves. being pulled up into the sun. having a place. of knowing where to go.
someone then came. and he blended the lines raw. now dirty with prints. smeared with intention. forceful swipes. and he made a home. inside my head. and wore my skin. to hide his shit.
and i just never understood. exactly what he did. until it became too late. a forced rear-view. sucking the breath out of my lungs. like seeing the car crash. right as you pass. a machine in your hands. trying to steer. towards and away. wondering about the carnage. that then shows up in your new dreams. forcing you to see. the other dreams. you left behind. some years later. while away from home.
so you see. it’s not just about believing. when someone cries out. making sure their story. fits right into place. it’s also about knowing. that they’re just lost. trying to find. the path back to themselves. struggling to see. their confident lines. in the dreams where they were traveling. before someone. wiped it away.
Had the amazing pleasure assisting a recording of a live show last weekend at a 3-day music festival called Assembly of Disturbance. It featured many incredible industrial/noise/techno acts that I would have NEVER known of, being new to the city.
Caught the amazing Hanna Sawtell (sorry for the non-landscape mode):
And learned so much about Test Dept — an industrial band that started in the 80s and was super influential with their intense live shows (with many handmade instruments) and political awareness.
(Apologies for the sound quality.)
manages the pull.subsides the fear.remains the focus.quiets the space.with a blanketing lull.leveling out.the slightest tides.waves discerning.the whites of the wash.fortifying their race.to the other side.the darkest face.of the still moon.
the night does its best.to sing of peace.while grumbles in my belly.echo.
me to sleep.