raybear: (red)
Saturday night, after waivering, almost tilting onto the side of crawling back into bed and lying in the dark, I instead put on cut-off jean shorts and in-the-style-of-seersucker blazer and biked down to meet J-Hud and we went to a yacht club. "Are you sure I'm dressed alright?" she said. "Are you kidding? We are so coordinated they will take our picture and put it in the straight version of Nightspots." "Does that exist?" I have no idea. We arrived nearly simultaneously with other members of our party, to join the party, the one in celebration of the music of Time Life commercials that feature 'grown up' members of Air Supply. That is a euphemism. If you call something out as a euphemism, does it still count? Its unclear. We stood in long lines for free booze and ordered the maximum amount, which sometimes involved a bottle of beer in the pocket. I saw an old friend from college. I danced. I nearly coldcocked a friend for being an ass. I nearly had a foursome. Or a threesome. Fcking Joey and his fcking ascot! We piled off the boat, down the sidewalk, we parted ways at the light, it was back to me and J-Hud and we walked to pancakes, or BLT with fries, then parted ways. Buzzed biking is drunk biking, but I felt way better after the food, and at a six-way intersection I decided I needed to make a phone call and sing into someone's voicemail.


We think we are so difficult, so unique, so special. Of all the vast open space in the universe, how did we end up so complex, when there are galaxies made up elemental puffs, how did we luck out and get mitochondrial powerhouses inside of our cells. But its not just us, its us and stray dogs and fruit flies and giant jellyfishes that skate along the bottom of deep ocean shelves. We are all elegant. Zizek says we are nothing, that talking helps distract another person from seeing that we are nothing, so we keep talking. He also says no one taken in by idealogy ever believes they are being duped. I am inclined to believe this as well, we never are fully aware of what's going on in any given moment, when it comes to the macrocosm. With the microcosm, this is where my spiritual inclinations come into play, because I believe full awares is my spiritual purpose, to be absolutely present and conscious in my body at all times, that is enlightenment, but enlightenment is not only far away, it is unlikely in this lifetime, in this generation, in this millenia, but I do it anyway, because achieving enlightenment is not the point. It just feels to me like the only path to stride on. Rilke says only write if you cannot conceive of yourself living a life of not writing. I would suggest considering this: only breathe if you cannot imagine not breathing. Even when I envision death, my lungs have breath remaining inside. When my mitochondrial plants shut down, workers sent home without a final paycheck, there will be rattling and yelling, but in the end they will walk, they will take buses, they will drive, disperse and the gates will never open again and people who buy houses across the street won't know what its like to live next to the hum of coils and generators. They will live in a different world than their neighbors to the left who have been there for decades. That is the house where my memories will remain, in the basement, in cardboard boxes lifted off the floor in case of heavy rains and flooding.
raybear: (tattoo)
This past weekend we went to South Haven, Michigan for friends' wedding. Despite tons of weekend traffic and construction on the highway, we got there right on time....except for the fact that Michigan is an eastern time zone state. Oops. This meant we got there right on time for the wedding, but an hour late for when [livejournal.com profile] dommeyourass needed to be there since she was reading part of the service. The weather was a bit choppy and changeable all morning, but by the mid-afternoon it cleared up perfectly, and we sat in folding chairs on green back lawn overlooking a bluff, with the backdrop of Lake Michigan behind the bride and bride. It was a fairly lesbionic wedding, but in all the good ways, not the painfully awkward ways. And yes, I cried. A lot. But c'mon, someone read Mary Oliver's Wild Geese early on and I knew I was done for after that.

Later that evening, after dinner and checking into the hotel and changing clothes, we went back to the house and watched the sunset over the water. Its funny how driving 100ish miled can completely flip your perspective on the time and space of the world, not just with the time change, but more with the sun setting on the water, rather than rising up on it, as it does here for us in Chicago. My internal compass is usually tuned not to the magnetic fields of the north, but to whatever direction a significant body of water is. I would be screwed if I lived in Kansas.

I watched most of the sunset alone, away from the cheesey dance music and the bugs and the children and chatter of adults, poking along the beach and looking for rocks, as I am wont to do, and the scattered thunderstorms from the west were coming towards us -- not dark ominous clouds, but smaller grey ones that looked like misty fingers touching the surface of water. They moved in front of the sun as it got lower, but I walked fifty yards up the beach to a piece of driftwood and sat down and could see the glowing orange perfectly, just on the other side of the clouds. Occasionally I would see lightning flash a few inches to its left, which was surreal. Especially since it was only the night before that I got home around midnight and was standing in our middle room, looking out the south-facing window at the clear sky and the near-full moon, then I walked a few feet to the east-facing window in the bedroom and saw lightning approaching there. Weather has been strange lately all over. I knew I would end up writing about it here, even though I don't really like reading about weather, if I can't experience it directly, I prefer paintings or photos of it, I suppose.

While in Michigan, before coming home on Sunday morning, we cruised around to check out all the houses for sale, we're not looking to buy right away, but we are plotting, scheming, looking, fantasizing. We found one house that was breathtaking. A 1950s yellow house in immaculate condition, with enclosed porches in the front and back. Between the house and the road was two acres of a maple tree grove. This house, like the one rented for the wedding, was also on a bluff up against its own private beach. It was for sale and it was empty, probably someone's seasonal home, and so we traipsed around, nervously at first, then getting more bold we wandered, the more we talked about all the things we loved about it. We knew it was too soon on our timeline, it would be expensive. We wrote down the info anyway. 'Its probably a million dollar home.' But the market is bad. Maybe its been on sale for awhile and it would have cut the price drastically. Maybe it would be close. Maybe it would be tantalizingly close to our range and we'd just be torturing ourselves. Maybe I could work full-time for a year or two and make it happen. Maybe, maybe. We got home and I looked it up and immediately started laughing. Cackling, really.

"How much do you think it is?"
"$1 million?"
"Try $3.6 million."

Well, so much for that dream.

Coming back home, I keep thinking about Virginia Woolf and her struggle with how the city overwhelmed her and made her anxious with its stimuli, but the country could be equally maddening with its silence and space. Right now, I'm longing for that silence and space, so I don't feel the latter, but I understand the mixed reaction to the city. Everything I love about it is also what can sometimes overwhelm my daily existence.
raybear: (Wiley)
The following things happened to me yesterday, not anywhere near each other in time and space:

1. I took a hot bath in the morning, even though I knew I was biking to the gym in a couple hours, but I was so sore and achey that its all I wanted to do. During this bath, I stared out the window into the sunshine and wished for a hot tub on a back deck, because it was perfect weather for it, where it was warm, but not hot outside, there was still a barest hint of spring chill in the air that a bubbly spa would complement.

2. On the train into work, I marvelled in my head as to why so many buildings in this city are made with the same ugly boring concrete grey blocks and if there's some market domination going on, or if its just that they are the cheapest and most efficient and everyone is trying to make/conserve money, so its like building your house in the Sims, and you want to branch out but you just end up making most every house look pretty much the same because materials are limited within a budget.

3. I corresponded over e-mail with DYA and our friends about possibly renting a 4-bedroom vacation house together for a weekend in June in Michigan while we are all there for our mutual friends' wedding.

These things added up to a dream last night where DYA and I were with a bunch of people, looking at housing plans (the view was much like playing The Sims) and there was a lottery/race to pick which rooms we wanted to live in -- it kinda reminded me of the race to get seats on a Southwest flight, where they divide groups into 3 sections, but its cutthroat mini-chaos within each one. It also kinda reminded me of the moments at the beginnings of reality shows that involve all the contestants living together, and how they run around and claim beds. Everyone else was a stranger to us, except we knew [livejournal.com profile] blondestallion was coming later and would need a place to stay and we didn't want her stuck in a crappy room with strangers, so we decided to claim the biggest room that we could all share, which had two big beds and a hot tub. I was very happy with our decision and our 'win', though slightly nervous about the longterm consequences of three adults having to share a room for period of time more than a few nights, even if it is two people that I like a lot.

I'm not allowed to go to the gym today. Working out has totally become my tool for avoiding writing, and while it has some benefits over say, watching oprah and eating cookies and napping as a tool to avoid writing (nothing wrong with any of those things on their own, of course, only for me when done in combination for long periods of time), it also has some disadvantages like my back being a little inflamed and angry at me because I've been overdoing it. I am going to the grocery story though, which is one of my favorite activities in the world.

Please enjoy the latest installment of my imaginary boyfriend.

raybear: (red)
I just sent someone an e-mail saying I didn't want to go on a date with him. We haven't even been on a date yet, we've only chatted online a few times, but I figured, ok, breathe, let's do the forward, direct, courteous thing and just tell him. That isht is hard for me. It really kinda freaks me out when someone is more into me than I am into them. It also has hard for me to assert what I want and have that be ok. I just freeze up and get all panicky. Its sort of a hilarious reaction to think about in this situation, because what is he going to do, force me to go on a date with him? But we're not talking logic, we're talking emotions here, so even after I sent the very careful but simple three line e-mail, I immediately worried what he would say or do, which is ridiculous because that answer is 99.9% likely to be 'nothing'. I mean, ok, he could write back, and he might, and that will fall into 3 categories: 1) that's a bummer, thanks for letting me know; 2) that's a bummer and you're missing out for blowing me off!; 3) you're a [lots of expletives]. Wait, I guess a fourth option is he might write back and ask "is it something I said" and ask for clarification but note to self: DON'T LET ME REPLY. And maybe these e-mails will make me feel guilty and question my worth as a judge of character, but really, I think I'm finally ready to get over that.

There are a lot of things I'm finally ready to get over lately, I think, most of them related to issues of confidence and awareness of myself and acceptance. Though what I'm realizing is that many of these things, I had before, but then they kinda got eroded in these obscured and unexpected ways over the years.

Ok, I just went into my e-mail to look something I'm going to cut-and-paste here and he already wrote me back. It said "fair enough. take care." See, self? That wasn't so hard. Crisis averted.

So, nearly 2 weeks ago, [livejournal.com profile] sebastian6 posed some questions to me and I'm finally getting around to addressing them here. They've been rattling around in my brain a bit, though I'm not sure you'll be able to tell, as I'm just going to freewrite my answers, I don't have anything I'm prepared to say (I feel like blogging is really one or the other -- its a fully formed quasi-essay in my head that I'm anxious to sit and type out, or its just a meandering, organic thought parade.
mythology )

[livejournal.com profile] tracijean also gave me a writing challenge but I need a minute to work on that one before I post it.

In Other NewsTM, I'm going to Ragdale!!! I just got a phone message announcing my acceptance!!!!!!!
raybear: (Default)
I really want to make love to this man.

This is my imaginary boyfriend, Jay Smooth of illdoctrine.com.

click here for pictures of all my other imaginary people! )
raybear: (Default)
I just massaged tiger balm into my third eye. I think it's helping, though with what I'm not exactly sure. Seeing the path to enlightenment? Reading the auras of others? Awareness ancient wisdom? I'd settle for brief physical rejuvenation. I'm fcking tired.

Today I went to Marshall Fields, er, Macy's, and wandered around the shopping madness with my friend Corrie. We wanted to lunch at the Walnut Room but it was 12:15 and we were hungry and the wait was 2 hours. So we got a pager, then walked two blocks down to Ada's deli to get lunch. We went back to the store just in time for the pager to light up and we had a seat and got fancy cocktails and dessert. Corrie has wanted to revisit christmas lunch at the Walnut Room, not only as a nostalgic trip from her childhood, but also as research for a story she's writing. We caught up on various things throughout the afternoon, but what might stay with me most was the conversation on "imaginary friends". She was asking me questions as A Writer because she's been working on stuff of her own, and it became this interesting mutual confessional about inner lives and how they effect actual relationships and where it all fits together and how the things we keep secret from others for fear of sounding 'crazy' are often the things that are keeping us 'sane'.

Also, I bought cuticle cream.

May 2010

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