thank boo!

thank you everyone for coming to our home and sticking your bare hands into the slimy bellies of your pumpkins. thank you for using cheap plastic tools to create your own festive faces.

and the award for the best pumpkin goes to...everyone.

Happy Halloween!

who are you supposed to be?

it is 11am and I am watching a woman get out of her car. her impressively smooth behind is hanging out of an impressively small wonder woman costume. it is the bright white of late morning light and the pale of her usually hidden skin is luminous. as I am drinking my coffee, I am wanting to understand this urge. is she hoping that we have all forgotten it is halloween and for a moment believe to be witnessing a real live wonder woman order a latte? has she waited 10 long months and 31 endless days for this opportunity to show the world exactly how firm her ass cheeks are? was it this very costume that motivated her countless steps on the stair climber. did she do squats every night while brushing her teeth, imagining this very moment where she is standing at the front of a very long line? maybe, she is a real life heroine thinking “finally!” and using this socially sanctioned day to dress the part? or, perhaps she is nothing like wonder woman and is simply relishing in the 24 hours where she can wear star bedecked briefs and red go-go boots and not be mistaken for a special occasions stripper? maybe her grandmother made her this costume and then on her death bed asked this woman to realize her grandmother's own unrealized dream of dressing like a sexy superhero on halloween. maybe this woman just wants to have super powers, real or imagined, for one day. maybe she wants to feel wonderful, even if tomorrow, she goes back to being herself.

originally, the pagans dressed up as ghouls and gobblins in an attempt to protect themselves from evil spirits on all hallow's even. now people just dress up to pretend they're not themselves. even candy bars pretend to be smaller and m&m’s get to dress in different shades of candy coating.

I think this year I am going to dress up as a dressed down version of myself. sweat pants, an old t-shirt. no make-up, messy hair. I am going to answer the door with my big bowl of candy and I am going to see witches and mummy's and french maids and clowns. skeletons will come out of closets to solicit for sweets. pirates will leave their ships in search of sugary treasures. and if anyone asks, "who are you supposed to be?" I will reply, "I'm trying my best, as scary as it sometimes is, to be a really good version of myself."

do your part

in the name of helping a friend realize her dream, I found myself doing pushups in the mud on a sunday. I spent the day in the desert while the sun dutifully fulfilled its fiery obligation. I wore camo underneath a pink tutu. I performed my best pas de chat in combat boots. I did my part to be a part of something special--a filmmaker's vision. keep your eyes open for the brilliant ms. maggie cohn's upcoming short film, Perry's Fairies. if you're lucky you might get a glimpse of me and le T interpretive dancing--always a treat.

freeway flossing

mul·ti·task·ing
n. "the concurrent or interleaved execution of two or more jobs by a single CPU"

I saw a women flossing her teeth and steering with her elbows today on the freeway. she was probably going about 70. her car was like a big blue crayon in the hands of an invisible 5-year-old trying their hardest to stay in the lines and managing some of the time. I passed her completely dumbfounded by this brazen act. she was endangering not only her own life but the lives of countless others around her. was it a bit of apple skin? or a fiber of pulled pork? what was it that she couldn't wait to get out? what fragment of her lunch had driven her to this? really, she couldn't have taken 5 minutes to pull off the freeway to complete this urgent task? I found myself wondering, at what point do we stop and say, I have taken multitasking too far? the word "multitasking" itself was created in 1966 to describe what a computer does. we are not computers, nor should we strive to be. computers cannot replace us. maybe computers can knit sweaters faster, but they can't hug us and make us feel safe. multitasking has become a tag line that describes a valuable human being. but to me, it doesn't matter so much how many things you can do at once as much as what it is you're doing.

the beatles were wrong

the beatles were wrong
happiness isn't a warm gun
happiness is waking up next to you
if only your hair could always look like morning
da vinci's ghost must sculpt it while we sleep

don't forget to...

texas and its mess of chicken joints
catholic funerals and their deluded priests
fighting cocks and dying dogs

we took an unplanned trip last week.
the unexpected death of a woman in the middle of her life.
her death reminding the rest of us to live.
we forget too easily.

we decided to drive.
flying doesn't take long enough.

bat caves and dragon flies
dr. pepper and 40 kinds of jerky
angry cows and curious goats

for those few days,
we made of the road our home.
ears reading audio books,
eyes taking in all the sky.
everything was a bit brighter, a bit heavier and a bit lighter too.

"don't forget to..." we made long lists in our heads
as we drove down wide lanes past soft hills dotted with languid crosses and lethargic windmills.
don't forget to write. don't forget to smell the roses. don't forget to write about smelling the roses. don't forget to write someone to tell them how beautiful the roses smell. don't forget to do all the things we all forget to do.
live each day like it's your last and wake each morning like it's your first.
or something like that.

big dreams and toy pianos

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. ~Frank Herbert


october 1st, I haven't written in a while, and though I have my list of excuses, all the letters rearranged spell the same word, laziness. I've been busy, yes, though not too busy to watch several 80's movies, some good, some bad, and some terrible. I've been entertaining guests, yes, but there are always moments to sneak away and write. I haven't known what to write about, though that is never an excuse. open your eyes, hell, close your eyes, and you'll see a multitude of subjects worthy of writerly examination. the truth is, I have been wasting the last while hiding out in a lion's den of doubt. I have been frolicking in the endless field of fear.

I am a musician, have been since childhood when all I had to bang on was a $50 toy piano. for me, oxygen is made up of melody. I have made of my life a musical. and while I long to share my song with someone other than my mom, I am afraid. afraid that it is stupid or unimaginative or unoriginal, or perhaps I'm afraid it is amazing and then I will be overwhelmed by all the expectation that follows...

I am afraid of doing the one thing that makes me unafraid.

I love to sing more than anything else I have endeavored to do. so why do I find endless routes away from this undeniable destination? no matter why, only matter what. what I do with this awareness. how I overcome this fear. as shakespeare said,

Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win
By fearing to attempt.

I will attempt and where the fear has gone there will be nothing. only I will remain, singing.

today I wrote a new song on the piano. perhaps I will play it for you...