Coffee Rhetoric: Divination
Showing posts with label Divination. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Divination. Show all posts

July 13, 2012

Spilling Open

Paul Gauguin, "Brooding Woman"

Sullen Girl

 

I’ve neglected this blog long enough, but I’ve been working on editing a project that I’m expecting (or at least hoping) to pan out with some relative success. Also to be frank, I haven’t really felt compelled to update Coffee Rhetoric, contribute to any other platforms, or do any writing in general, as of late. None of the human interest stories I’ve been reading across the web, has incited me to chorus. Sometimes, I want a break from deconstructing gender, racial discord, intra-racial dysfunction, popular culture, and just the cult of personality in general. 
And while I don’t really feel the need to share that much of my own personal goings-on anymore, as I plod my way towards a break-through of some sort;  I will disclose that I am lamenting over many aspects of my being, while simultaneously celebrating my self-imposed solitariness… if that makes any sense. In other words, I miss being social, yet I have no desire to be around most people right now. 

It could be age—and me becoming while a grumpy old woman— or maybe it is just plain ol’ cynicism; but the thought of socializing or building with people doesn’t interest me as it once did… and neither does dating. My patience with certain personalities wears thin in a flash. Waning friendships and/or associations?  Bye… I’m not interested in trying to rekindle any of them; new connections? No longer interested in making any, save for a few rare exceptions and depending on the level of interest I have in the situation or person. This is not me having a pity-party and it’s far from self-flagellation… I’m not quite sure how to pinpoint my current state. It’s an amalgamation of feelings and a lack thereof.  I’m frustrated that personal goals aren’t panning out the way I need them to. I’m feeling like I’ve reached an impasse and want to buy a one-way ticket someplace faraway. I am struggling against the pull of “That Dark Place”, because I don’t want or like residing or visiting there. Essentially, I just want to be left alone… literally and figuratively; which I pretty much am, for the most part. I’ve learned to hide this particular brand of dismay well, because I've had to and quite frankly, don't really have a choice. Warding off encroaching demons that prompt me to shut down completely-- where I'm almost robotic, detached and somewhat cold-- is daunting though.  
Thirty-five is on my heels and I don’t care; as the last several Born Days, were uneventful and stark reminders of … many things, so I don't make much them... I prefer to spend them alone... with wine if I have access to any.   

Anyway, this is my attempt to write through the blockage as I continue to claw my way out of my funk, because I'm mentally worn out. At times I wish I “indulged” in other, otherwise I’d just smoke or pill-pop my way towards an epiphany… but then I doubt I’d ever get anything productive done, I’d be existing in some delusional state of being, and it’s not really a viable way (for me) to reach a resolution.  I’m just a bit overwhelmed from being underwhelmed.

“I still consider myself to be my own best friend though, and there's no company I'd rather keep than my own. Aside from my immediate family, there are very few people I care to spend more than a few hours (tops) with. Parties and particularly long "hang-outs" leave me feeling stir-crazy and most of all, self conscious. I don't really like myself much around other people. After the initial charm of my niceties wears off, I feel awkward and annoying. I long to be alone, to be with myself. It's a bit odd, simultaneously loving and hating yourself like I do.
And so I retreat back into my world of loner-ism, and I perk up. I start to feel better about myself. I shed the feelings that others are judging me and I go shopping, I treat myself to lunch, I take a bath, I read, I paint, I watch a movie (no interruptions from the peanut gallery, thank you very much). I do the things I wouldn't want to do with anyone else, and I become a better person for it.” 

Me, almost to a T. I'm working my way through the woods and towards clarity, though.  

August 18, 2011

Spilling Open: Introspection

I haven't had the opportunity to spill open on here in a while. .. not in the fashion I'm accustomed to. "Diversifying" and introducing different elements to this blog has prompted me to sort of shut my personal self off. Since I can't afford the luxury of sighing and heaving to a shrink, I figured I'd get back to the middle and do it here. I miss spilling open here. The luxury of having my own forum and not restricting how I utilize my voice is a wonderful and freeing right to have. This very late and sleepless night, I choose to project in a very self-analytical way... for I'm the best, worst, most knowledgeable judge of me, myself, and I. 
Three days ago, I turned 34. I haven't had the opportunity to let the fact that I'm in my hardcore, mid-thirties, sink in until late last night and then now. I've always been an extremely leery woman, but it seems the older I get... the grumpier, more impatient, cut and dry paranoid I become about people's intentions (not to mention the insane hormonal changes my body is experiencing). My thoughts run a mile a minute... still... and my intuition goes into overdrive... The nights I can't sleep (which are often), I'm more in form and my emotions run the gamut.
Close friendships I've had for years are still intact, easy to maintain, and I cherish them. I also curse them for being so long-distance.  I'm finding that cultivating new ones is a difficult process for me. Sort of like the three times I've tried, to no avail, to care for and nurture organic  French lavender plants.  While I enjoy meeting their acquaintance, I don't trust people upon first coming into contact with them and schmoozing is a daunting task I'd rather avoid. My expectations of folks I fancy tend to be pretty basic, but high (within reason)... so when they generate a flaky outer-crust, I have visuals of them engaging in unsavory discussions about me when I'm not around and cackling at my expense after I've opened up to them (a la the movie, Carrie... when she flashes back to her mother mockingly telling her; "They're all gonna laugh at you!"). Mind you, none of the things I'm divulging charts the madness of an Angry Black Woman who's aging and coming undone. I've gone through some schtuff  over the years with people I considered friends, who eventually had no use for me once I stopped being able to provide them with the things they needed from me or who found someone more ride-or-die to guffaw and shoot the shit with. This is nineteen years worth of angst. I'm conflicted; sometimes  assholish when it comes to shielding myself... and so it manifests in a brooding, somewhat cold package ready to cut someone's jugular (or shutdown and close up shop, depending on the situation)- when I think I'm being compromised in some way. I stay solitary for the most part and actually quite enjoy doing things alone... In fact I find it gratifying and not unlike the scene from Catherine Breillat's French film, Romance... where Marie stalks her boyfriend to a sushi restaurant... chagrined by his flagrant pleasure in being alone eating his California rolls and reading his book ... without her... to which she mentally voices over that she would've rather found him cheating with another woman. 
While I dislike being a mercurial woman sans the desire to nurture deeper relationships with the opposite sex or entertain any new applicants for friendship, I've grown comfortable in my ... aloofness (for lack of a better term), as it's easy to just exist in a world unto myself and with people I'm comfortable with and who know me. But while my opaque and indifferent nature seems comforting and offers the protection I need from being inconvenienced in some way...  it's exasperating. 
Aging, learning how to deal with other people's personality quirks juxtaposed against my own, and fumbling towards my core presents an amalgamation of different feelings: perplexed, resistant, and frustrated ...
I understand that venturing outside the comfortable confines I've built around myself is a difficult but very necessary thing I need to experience more often... Despite it being so easy to withdraw and become self-contained... In essence, I just want to be left the hell alone; yet essentially I want to be happy having reached some sort of balanced medium... but I know this isn't a healthy or realistic expectation. What can I say?... I'm a middle child who embraces her right to err and grow. Stay tuned...

December 28, 2010

Touch Up

It has been awhile. I hate staying away for too long, but sometimes the banality of life gets in the way. I've been up to some pretty interesting things in the midst of the triteness and the soup I'm prepping is cooking at a low simmer. I'm hoping it'll come to a full boil sometime soon, because I'm starving. I'm trying to stay motivated and not get sidetracked by travail and annoyances that plague like a fruit fly outbreak in a banana factory, in the dead of summer. 
Poetz Corner performer
I recently attended the season finale of Poetz Corner at Cloud 9 in Hartford, hosted by local performance artist, publisher, and writer Shireal Renee, who always seems to steer and stir up a good show. It was an upbeat culmination that showcased outstanding a rousing group of poets this time around. The best was seemingly saved for last. I was even forced coerced and cajoled into shuffling up to the stage during the open Mic and read a rather salacious piece myself... much to my chagrin, as I'm  a writer and provocateur ... not a performance artist. I do look forward to seeing what next season generates. While making sure that Poetz Corner gave good show this season, Shireal Renee also found time to perform her one woman show, "Wide Open" to much acclaim... So much so, its encore is slated to open again on February 4th & February 6th at the Wadsworth Atheneum of Art
I've made a few long overdue and desired vanity changes to Coffee Rhetoric, and shortened the url address to dot com. The anticipation is killing me, and I simply cannot wait until January 1st to unveil the sprucing up I did. So here is the updated and improved coffeerhetoric.com it its preliminary stage. I am looking forward to getting back to my regularly scheduled blog updates. So much has incited me to chorus and I miss ranting about it! I've actually resorted to journaling by hand. People, places, this, that, and the other never cease to amaze me, and I need to talk massive amounts of shit about it. 
I do appreciate all the continued support everyone bestows upon me. I'm indebted to you few dedicated readers and will fake bake you all a heaping batch of hot, chocolate-chip cookies someday... um... in this lifetime... 
I'm back in session and don't plan on taking any more extended breaks! I feel so... so lost when I don't update on a consistent basis, as issues fall by the wayside. I am trying to get back to the middle ... spilling open offers the catharsis I need and my chest is constipated. I don't subscribe to the New Year's Resolutions List theatrics most other people do. I'm not one to wait once a year to improve upon something as I'm a work in progress and continue to fumble towards ecstasy, and quite honestly, there're some things I simply just... prefer and so have no desire to change. On some level, I suppose my rebellion against making empty resolutions is why I decided not wait, to breathe life back into my blog or to unmask the changes. I'm psychoanalytical like that. ;-p
That is all. 

June 12, 2010

Changements

 Path of least resistance: In physics, the path of least resistance is always taken by objects moving through a system. For example, water flowing downhill follows the path of least resistance as it is pulled downward by gravity. Electricity flowing through a circuit behaves similarly; while every available path has some current through it, the amount of current through each path is inversely proportional to its electrical resistance. Atmospheric disturbances (storms) flow on the path of least resistance by flowing toward zones of low barometric pressure, where lower air density offers less impedance to the storm system than higher pressure zones.

... So many changes, so little time.
I've been diverted, and have turned off of another exit. I feel... good; this is a good thing. As frazzling as change can be, I've grown accustomed to viewing each sudden development as a chance to breathe life into another entity; as the opportunity to explore, expound upon, to build. In the midst of these changes, I've had a nervous breakthrough which has manifested into a creative spurt. I love kicking through writer's/creative blocks. It's almost like playing a round of Tetris... once you fit a puzzle piece in its rightful place, all the rest disintegrates and explodes like fireworks, allowing the player to move on to the next level. I'm excited and extremely hopeful. Stay tuned.

February 03, 2010

Just Drive

I feel like I've reached an impasse. A never-ending maze with an elusive exit. So many decisions, so many things to nibble away at, but I'm completely deadlocked. People, places, and things never cease to perplex the hell out of me. And at times, it's overwhelming. I've had moments where I've attempted to check out, but alas, to no avail, because worries, my thoughts continue to plague me. I manage to be aloof in certain aspects of my life i.e., dating; wishy washy suitors, and an endless supply of assholes. In other aspects? Not so much; opportunities, my livelihood, my future. 
Ofttimes I think I have a dubious guardian, who loves toying with me and seeing me grapple with the worst luck! Or perhaps I'm an unwitting contestant in some twisted reality television program, where the masses are watching me wrestle and fight my way to the top. I don't know, but I continue to shadowbox. To bob, weave, sidestep... dance... twirl my way to what I feel is rightfully mine! I'm at a loss right now. I don't know how to plot my next move but I do know that I'm ready for my turn. I'm thinking. I'm pondering. I'm pissed. Intense game of mind play at work. Please do not disturb!
The fight continues. This is round 20.

January 12, 2010

Witching Hour

I live basement level. Last night, during the wee hours, the pipes put up quite a ruckus. Banging! Clanging, Thrashing, ... the sounds were akin to someone hitting a metal baseball bat against a steel pole, with brute force over and over and over again. Pause. Then over again. Or perhaps something was trying to force its way through the heating vents above my bed? Was ceiling cat trying to make a nervous breakthrough? I'm not sure. Either way, I woke up in fits and starts. My heart leaped with every loud clang. I was already restless and edgy. I'm a chronic insomniac, and so was hungry for any semblance of sleep I could get. I'd suddenly drift off, and then CLANG! My heart thumped against my chest and my head started to throb. My mind started running its ever increasing lap. I tried in vain to lull and soothe my thoughts... to no avail. A bit paranoid and somewhat leery, I didn't get to sleep until 4AM. I felt like Catherine Deneuve, in Roman Polanski's psychological thriller, 'Repulsion,' minus the androphobia and sexual repression.
This late-late evening, I am still restless. While the malevolent spirit that lives in the vents is quietly lying in wait. Anxiety won't offer me any reprieve. I'm worried about many things. I'm antsy. I'm apprehensive. I'm resolute. I'm petulant. My eyelids are heavy and my retinas burn with fatigue. I want to cry frustrated tears, but because I'm resolute, I can't manage to squeeze any out... So, I'm keeping a vigil at this late hour ...

August 10, 2008

I'm Still Waiting...

... I haven't exhaled in about a week. Waiting can be exciting. But it's also one of the most nerve-wracking feelings and can exacerbate feelings of anxiety and indigestion. I'm not gonna exhale until I hear. ...

August 02, 2008

Closer

So, it turns out- (says the nice lady, whose cute lil condo is up for rent)- that I have to pass muster with a Condo Association. Her words exactly? "Hi Coffey, this is Condo Owner. I'm just calling to touch base with you about the apartment. The contractor is coming and the flooring and everything else should be finished by Monday."
"Sounds great!" I said.
"You just need to get approved by the condo association. They will do a background check and then I will call you and let you know for certain!"
Suddenly I got a horrible case of bubble guts.
"Oh, okay. Thanks for calling. Talk to you soon"
I chimed in, optimism holding on for dear life... or at least until the end of the phone call. You know that scratched/broke record sound effect one hears when "Fer sure!" turns to "Maybe?" Yes. That's the sound I heard in my head. Background check? While I have no criminal history to speak of, one never knows what a background check will produce. It's always nerve-wracking to have strangers poking around in your history. Things can be misconstrued! They can pass judgment over a simple misunderstanding! My neuroses knows no bounds. I am a worrier. I tend to think the worse. I understand that certain communities want to make sure they aren't residing in close quarters with pieces of trash. Either way, I feel so close yet sooo far away suddenly from my goal suddenly. Getting close and then having the rug yanked as I approach my destination, seems par for the course with me, sometimes. I'm hopeful. I. am. hopeful. Next week will dictate yay or nay.
On a completely random note, I received and obscene call at work Thursday. The appetizer to the main course, yes. The man's voice was rich. It was deep. It was Barry White sexy in its PROFESSIONAL and inquiring tone. As the conversation went downhill, however, that voice suddenly became lecherous. Skeevy in its interrogation...
"Hi, I'm looking for information on Such and Such Organization. Do you know anything about that?"
"Hm." I replied thoughtfully, "I'm not sure I have that info on hand. Let me ask around for you. You mind holding for one quick second?"
"Not at all, with your PLEASANT sounding self." his deep voice oozed. "You sound sooo nice and pllleasant." he breathed.
"Thanks. Anyway, give me a second." I said, taken aback but still trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism.
Needless to say, no one had the answers I sought for this voice over the phone.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have information on the Such and Such Organization. We don't really work directly with them. And the person who MAY be able to help you is currently in a meeting."
I considered offering him some other alternatives. But then...
"Mmmmm" he moaned. "So you don't have a phone number I could reach them at...?"
"No, I don't. Sorry." I said, growing a little impatient (I had to use the restroom) and wanting to end the call, for I sensed it was about to take a strange turn... right smack dab in a gutter littered with used condoms, smashed ciggie butts, and a pair of dirty, ripped panties. Hmmm... are those undulating bodies I see pressed up against the brick wall??
"hmmm, mmm..."
he moaned some more.
"... Okay... ummm, can I ask you a question... oh my god..."
he moaned in that deep voice... "
"Do you LOOK as good as you sound?"
Suddenly I got a visual of this man, shut in his office, sitting behind a desk grimacing and leaning back in his chair... slowly unzipping his trousers... A co-worker appeared at my desk, and noticed the alarm on my face...
"Um, anyway, so yeah. bye!"
I said and hung up abruptly. I relayed the strange call to her and she let out a raucous laugh.
"You know you enjoyed it!" she teased.
"Um, perhaps I would have in the privacy of my own home. But not at my JOB!"
I shot back. ... Ironically enough, I watched Girl 6 last night. So in any event, my fingers are crossed and hopefully I will enjoy an obscene phone call or two, in the privacy of my new apartment? Perhaps the call and then last night's movie are positive signs?
Okay I'm reaching. ...

July 26, 2008

Waiting with bated breath...

In the meantime, I'm decompressing this weekend. I've had enough of being out in the hot weather. Decompression = ample thinking, reading, music, (and wine) time. Here's hoping that things work out as planned.
Have a great weekend.

May 04, 2008

Evermore Curiouser...

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice. `Who are you?' said the Caterpillar. This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, `I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.' `What do you mean by that?' said the Caterpillar sternly. `Explain yourself!' `I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir' said Alice, `because I'm not myself, you see.' `I don't see,' said the Caterpillar. `I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly,' Alice replied very politely, `for I can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.' `It isn't,' said the Caterpillar. `Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet,' said Alice; `but when you have to turn into a chrysalis--you will some day, you know--and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little queer, won't you?' `Not a bit,' said the Caterpillar. `Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,' said Alice; `all I know is, it would feel very queer to me.' `You!' said the Caterpillar contemptuously. `Who are you?' Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar's making such very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, `I think, you ought to tell me who you are, first.' `Why?' said the Caterpillar. Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away. `Come back!' the Caterpillar called after her. `I've something important to say!' This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again. `Keep your temper,' said the Caterpillar. `Is that all?' said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could. `No,' said the Caterpillar. Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, `So you think you're changed, do you?' `I'm afraid I am, sir,' said Alice; `I can't remember things as I used--and I don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!'
-Alice in Wonderland, chapter 5: Advice from a Caterpillar

January 23, 2008

No Love

Amidst all the chaos, the trials and tribs, my fall and subsequent rise. In the crux of my moving, job hunting, cursing my bad luck, finally starting and now settling into a new job, apartment hunting, contemplation, absorption, ups and downs... In the midst of this egomaniacal reverie... I haven't, not once, entertained the thought of dating, men, signiffy others, sex or lack thereof, or the joys of digital manipulation, even. It has been awhile since I've lamented over my solitary confinement. I haven't thought about ghosts from my pasts at all. They've all become nameless, insubstantial phantoms. I don't wonder what they're doing, I don't care where they are. I don't remember how they look, smell, how much they got on my nerves. What they did to make me sigh with resignation. No dating... away with the online dating profiles, peer to peer contact, considering dating prospects, making eye contact and averting my gaze right before something clicks... all of these things have become my current reality. Because I haven't thought about it until this second, none of it has really mattered or made me feel any self-loathing and self-pity. Oh, I've become quite used to my aloof and cold nature and have settled into my chilly exterior (my interior is quite warm). I honestly don't know what to make of it really. I'm neither pleased with myself or unhappy about how self contained and focused I am. Once things have quieted down, only time will tell what the dating future will conjure up. What creatures will come slithering out from under their moist rock, which normal, sane, handsome gentlemen will take me off guard in spite of myself or what embarrassing yet salacious fodder I'll feed to the masses (or perhaps keep to myself). ... Only time will tell. I am ready for another adventure abroad... this much I know is true.

December 30, 2007

Sunday Horoscope...

Today, the last weekend of this year... 2007, my horoscope read:
As the year draws to an end, you are more serious than the typical playful Lion, yet even difficult experiences won't likely destroy your hope. It could be hard to balance your optimistic goals with your current situation, but you shouldn't be surprised. You have been preparing for what's happening now in many ways. Hold tight to your truth and let it guide you through the upcoming uncertainties.

December 01, 2007

Please Standby

I'm packing and getting ready to make a move... Restructuring and getting back on track is an overwhelming feat. Packing however, sucks more than anything that has ever sucked. I got rid of some shoes and still have too many pairs to contend with, so for the time being, they're all strewn in the middle of my floor. I've just been stepping over them. Which is a pain in the middle of the night when trying to feel my way in the dark, to the bathroom. Hopefully the very near future will bring welcome changes, a bigger apartment, and new opportunities, which I'll tackle with gusto! In the meantime, I've been killing myself packing and pondering what comes with, what's beat and needs to be trashed, and what goes into storage. I've also been looking into getting a post office box... which would make accepting gifts (hint-hint) a lot easier from kind readers. In any event, perhaps if I stop taking Bacaradi rum breaks, I could accomplish this feat quicker. Anyway, also enjoy this cool picture I took while riding down the street in West Hartford, CT. New England is a beaut, during the fall.

November 18, 2007

Regression

I'm regressing. And I don't like it one bit. I'm struggling not to go back to black. Not to become morose again. The impending gloom is hovering like a dark cloud and I'm tempted to just stand there and wait for the downpour and risk getting soaked, because I'm tired. The fatigue feels like a heavy weight on my chest and it's constricting my air flow. Literally and figuratively, I cannot breathe. I inhale and then I exhale and I can't seem to catch my second breath... because of the pressure on my chest. Destructive thoughts are starting to dance around tauntingly in my mind... causing my soul to scream in frustration. I'm hard on myself. Am a perfectionist of sorts and when I don't triumph in some way, shape, or form... I become self contained. ... And it's maddening. It's masochistic, because I take solace in being withdrawn... Ugh and I'm effing sick of being sullen! I do realize that people live lives that're far worse than my own... but narcissism and self absorbency has dictated that I am entitled to feel this way! I have a right to be a sullen, sour woman... but I HATE it!
I've managed to smile through it and roll with the punches. Smile graciously when advised "Oh, you'll get through it. Things will work out." When I really wanna shout, "Fuck off! Easy for YOU to say, you aren't in my shoes!" Even though I know friends and family are just trying to stay optimistic for me. And are worried about me. Uncompromising situations usually roll off my back like hot butter on a biscuit, but I get overwhelmed. I got overwheeeelmed. A couple of days ago upon returning home from the store... I put my bags down in my small (soon to be history) kitchenette. I didn't even remove my coat. I started sobbing from the impact of the onslaught. I smeared meticulously applied black eye-liner and mascara. The tears fell down my face, rested on my lips and mixed with my brownie cream lip gloss. I clenched my fists and avoided another one of those angry moments where I smash things in a blind rage... and then realize what I've done after coming out of that haze of anger... regretting ruining my stuff. I sat down. Money, men, wish washy personalities, not knowing, knowing, intuition, paranoia, the struggle ... sometimes it's too much. I cursed under my breath. And then I picked up the cell phone and called my sister...

November 06, 2007

RĂ©surrection

Picture a moment in space and time where you've become trapped in a stifling box. You suddenly become stagnant and lose your place in the rat race, because you've dropped out. Not willingly. Not without lack of trying to reach the finish line, but from fatigue. You veer off to the side, lungs exhausted, holding your sore sides trying to catch your second wind. You've made your way over to a nearby bench to settle. You settle out of mere necessity and survival and no other reason. Your discontentment breeds resentment, because while you've settled in order to survive, you still find yourself hanging on by the tips of your fingers. You're hanging from a cement ledge, decorated with pigeon droppings (some old and crusted over, some freshly dropped), your feet wildly kicking... a desperate attempt to gain leverage and hoist yourself up. But alas to no avail. You basically just give up and decide to meet the asphalt's acquaintance. Just before you decide to let go, someone stomps on your fingers with a lethal pair of oxfords, forcing your throbbing fingers to slip. You fall. arms flailing wildly in the wind. On your way down you glimpse a blur of faces, watching you fall to your death. You hit the ground. Lying flat on your back. You're stunned. You can't move. First your eyes focus on hulking human forms staring at you from where you've fallen. Smug in the grandeur of their positions. At first you can't move. You lay there... looking up at a sea of genuinely concerned faces staring o'er your crumpled body. Sore and possibly broken, you somehow manage to hoist yourself up. Testing your right arm first. You slowly lift it in the air, grimacing from the pain and effort. Stiff, straight you make a fist with your hand. Slowly but surely, you're able to lift your middle finger in a grand gesture of triumph. You aren't defeated nor are you paralyzed. Your joints seem to work fine. More importantly you've managed to survive the fall. Finger in the air, you watch the hulking silhouettes retreat back inside and away from your moxie. Chagrined. It make take brief period to recover from your fall, but you're still triumphant... because you survived it.
Just saying. Imagine that scenario. That's it.

November 03, 2007

Just 'Cause

Freedom never felt so... freeing. I feel triumphant. Triumphant enough to dance on tables and flail my arms in the air with abandon. Good Times!
P.S. Anybody know what happened to "Leroy"?

October 22, 2007

The Wait

Sunday was relatively quiet and uneventful- (A welcome reprieve from Friday's adventures). The sun was blindingly glorious, the weather was unseasonably warm. Save for a couple of errands, I didn't do much. Coffee and a bagel... slathered with onions and chives cream cheese on wheat. I watched two extremely important DVDs: La Haine- (extremely compelling in its content re: urban disenchantment- in the les banlieue section of Paris- with law enforcement, marginalization, and racism in France. Visually striking in black and white and universal to every inner city/"urban" situation...) and Games of Love & Chance - (a look at young minority teenagers coming of age in the suburbs of France, while preparing for a school production and dealing with the reality of their environs. Reminiscent of the film, Raising Victor Vargas)- In the midst of all this, I thought and I pondered... I pondered and thought. Sometimes I wish I were able to do neither. To just still my thoughts for a minute or two. Check out. They run around in circles. It's maddening. In the meantime, I'm still waiting. Waiting to hear. And that pressure that's been weighing heavy on my chest, still hasn't let up ... The malaise of anxiety.
**painting (above-left) from www.doctorhugo.org/paintings/index.html**

September 30, 2007

Sweat

It's building... the anticipation... expectancy... wanting. You ever been so close to something, have something virtually in your grasp, you can literally graze it with your fingertips? Feel it? Grasping, holding, and having are concepts I've been pushing hard to accomplish. I'm dying to experience this one triumphant moment so that I can overcome this stagnancy. I've been stationary for far too long. A lot depends on it. It's a diet plan that'll surely trim off at least 10 to 15 pounds of fat, and allow me to be more mobile.

September 19, 2007

Lucky Days

As if it's even possible, I've found yet another way to be eccentric.
I'm finding that I wont wake up, unless the digital "hand", if you will, on the clock, strikes number thirteen after the hour. Sounds strange, I know. But, I sleep with a deck of Ryder-Waite tarot cards under my pillow (wrapped in cloth) so bear (left) with me. In any event, my theory is if I wake up on the 13th minute after every hour, I'll have a decent day or that some semblance of luck will strike. So instead of waking up at 6:00, I'll hit the Snooze button and lay there until 6:13. At times, I've taken to setting at least one of my alarm clocks (I set at least 3, one of which is fifteen minutes ahead), to go off at 5:10AM, and will proceed to lay there for 3 additional minutes. The key is to hop out of bed quickly, before the minute is up. Once the 14th minute strikes, I feel screwed and will accept the fact that my day will probably be a little bent. I must say, a couple of good things (sometimes in the midst of certain annoyances) have worked out in my favor within the past two weeks or so. I really think this method to improving my karma is fumbling it's way towards... well... working? ... I'll keep all interested parties hip to this newly discovered insanity.

August 24, 2007

Da' Root

... Said I went, Said I went, Said I went to the doctor. The man told me there ain't nothin' wrong with me But I beg to differ, I been feelin this pain for much too long I feel like my soul is empty My blood is cold and I can't feel my legs I need someone to hold me. Bring me back to life b4 I'm dead. She done worked a root...root...rooooot. -D'Angelo, The Root
My hopes of channeling my inner Blair Witch have been dashed, as I couldn't find one decent hex or jinx spell online. I was hoping to curse someone with a nasty case of mud butt, but alas to no avail. Perhaps this is good for my karma, which has been scattered as of late. Oh well, next time. For now, I'll settle on my trademark cold, blustery stare.
*eyes darting sneakily from side to side*