we all do

eventually, our siblings will marry and our friends with get pregnant, and we will be forced to realize that we are no longer children. our families will expand and our friends will become parents. this crazy fact is both beautiful and alarming. and as we watch our brothers say I do, we think of our own weddings. and as we watch our friends change their daughter's diaper, we think of our own plans.

my brother just got married. it was a simple wedding set in the woods of north idaho. the bride wore flip flops and the groom wore a tuxedo t-shirt. the wedding party was comprised of their three children. it was truly a beautiful ceremony that made even the mountain men shiny-eyed.

our family was together.

when you see your family grow as the vows are made, you realize how complicated such a thing as family can be. if you're lucky you will like all the additions, but that doesn't always happen, and then what? do you love your sibling less for the mess of a partner they choose? and what if your friend bears and then raises a bratty child? will their choices drive you apart? life is this shifting thing that we are always wanting to hold still. but the calm we seek would make us crazy. life and love and family and friendship are complicated things, but we partake in them because the alternative is so quiet. we fill our lives with the things that make music. sometimes it is beautiful music and sometimes it just sounds like noise. but the absence of this music would break every experience. and so we keep surrounding ourselves with the sound and complication of love and we dance when it moves us and accept all the other times when we want to plug our ears. the lonely of quiet keeps us listening to the music of life.

home. away from home.

sometimes it's a long way home. sometimes it's 1383 miles of quiet highways that leads you there. sometimes it's right next door but you're too afraid to knock. sometimes it's in the chair you're sitting in. like now, where I am - home - in idaho sitting in the chair of my childhood. all at once, I am home and away from home. I have made a new one, with a lot of time and work and loneliness and confusion, I have settled my own homestead 1383 miles away from the world I left a long time ago. I am happy there, in my new home and sometimes I am sad there - that it takes so many miles to sit here in this chair laughing with my family.

when I am here I realize all the little things I miss out on. phone call updates can't share with you all of life's little inside jokes. it is the boring and uneventful moments that you share that often ties you to another. while I am here I focus on that, the little things. the way my father tells a story, the way my mother wraps a gift, the way my sister and her boyfriend make each other smile. the way we fight about stupid shit and annoy each other at a steady pace. the way we always know that despite the spat, we will always find our way back to the table to share a meal. family is this strange force that pushes you away and pulls you in over and over for the length of your beautiful life. I don't want to live in this town anymore, but I want to watch my family live here. fortunately it only takes two days and several cups of coffee and one long audio book to get me here. home. away from home.

putting the do in donut

you are not seeing things. those are donuts. that is a donut shop. an amazing donut shop I might add. just a lovely jaunt down the 210 from the heart of los angeles and you too can have fresh strawberry donuts made by jim. located on historic route 66 in glendora, ca, the donut man is a sweet stop worth making. the fresh strawberry donuts, for which the place is famous, are nothing short of amazing - big juicy and fresh summer strawberries bursting out of a fluffy glazed donut. sara, jg and I ate ours dancing with the delight of a scrumdidilyumptious sugar high. 

now I know there is speculation that donuts are not actually "good for us", but I would argue that what is good for the spirit is good for us. driving with friends, talking about life, only to be rewarded with a donut along the way is so very good for us and something we probably don't do nearly enough. I've been thinking a lot about what we don't do nearly enough of in light of the recent news that sara kaye is moving. not to a downtown loft or a hillside house, but moving moving, as in far away and no longer within walking distance. man oh man will she be missed. the endless adventures, the constant squeezing of the juices of life, she is a master. if you are lucky, as we have been lucky, your path will intersect with hers and most likely you will learn a whole lot about how very much living we are actually capable of. while I am sad for los angeles in losing her, I am excited for the world. I am also excited for the places we will get to visit her. onward and upward my friend, onward and upward.

a reverse lullaby

I was singing in my sleep last night. it woke jg up. he said he woke to the sound of a melody. a reverse lullaby. my melody being sung in the dark. this morning my jaw hurt something fierce. I must have been singing all night. what song I was singing he couldn't say, only that it was clear and lovely. this shows my current commitment to making beautiful music. I am in the process of securing all the gadgets and gizmos necessary to turn our lovely little palace into our home sweet recording studio.

entering into the realm of tech forums is daunting if you know as much about technology as you do about lithuanian history. not much. not much at all. here's what I do know. I know that if I don't get my music "out there" I will start to shrivel like a grape in the sun. I know that I feel more excited about recording my simple little tunes than I can remember being in too long. I know that having this sense of purpose gives me a focus my spectacles couldn't fix. I can see clearly. I need this. oh, and I also need an audio interface, a condenser mic, and an e-mu xboard 49. here's to doing what you want most and therefore fear most. may my reverse lullaby wake me from the dark slumber of fear.

we came, we saw, we ate hot dogs

Every day is a new opportunity. You can build on yesterday's success or put its failures behind and start over again. That's the way life is, with a new game every day, and that's the way baseball is.

~Bob Feller

halfway through the baseball season, I pause and reflect on my dodger's sportsfandom. I can now tell which player is which all the way from the top deck simply by reading the subtle gestures they each make. I know the people sitting behind me (tony and steve) and all about their history as dodger's fans. I know that within one game of baseball lies a metaphor for an entire lifetime - the ups and downs, the long pauses and the bursts of excitement, the devastating injuries as well as the surprising victories. I know that it can be very loud and very quiet depending on the score on the board. I know that the ice cream vendor never comes when I need him too and that one dodger dog makes me feel great and two, make me feel awful. I know that sitting between sara and jg and jumping up for joy together and giving each other sloppy high fives when our team scores a run, makes the long walk up the hill from echo park more than worth it. ultimately, I know that baseball games are about a whole lot more than just baseball and I'm glad I've discovered that whole lot more.

it only takes a sliver

it only takes a sliver to illuminate this room
but I'd gladly take more
if more were willing
~me, 8/5/2005

a sliver can hurt. a sliver can give you a glimpse into a secret world. a sliver can give you enough light to see in the dark. a sliver of glass. a sliver of light. a sliver of time. a sliver of hope. at first glance the word itself reads as the metal that forms many things, from coins to mirrors to jewelry to the processing of photographs. swap the l with the i and you have another word full of possibilities. shiny bright possibilities.

it only takes a sliver - to cut the flesh, to reveal the truth, to see the light.

I like pulling slivers out of jG's hands, such a tiny thing that can't be ignored. something unseen that causes pain. I can remove the perpetrator with the white curves of my fingernails. a simple comforting act. love is like that. taking someone's pain and disposing of it with your hands. little acts of love. enough slivers of love and we could illuminate the world. it only takes a sliver - but I'd gladly take more, if more were willing.

for more musings on slivers, read my short short story sliver.

quitting is cool

Quit Your Job Advice Show from kayekilla on Vimeo.

I'm a quitter. an avid quitter. I've quit so many times, I've lost count - my job that is. when it's something I'm passionate and excited about, I always see it through to the end - jobs however, I quit like samantha quits her boyfriends. and I don't stop there, I actively encourage others to quit their jobs as well. name your problem, and I'll tell you the solution - quit your job.

now understand, I wholeheartedly believe there are jobs worth keeping, it's just that there are so many jobs kept that should be abandoned like a rabid raccoon in the woods. and yet, people cling and complain away the days of their misery. people make up excuses for why they can't quit, none of which ever satisfy me.

call me crazy (because in this "sane" world, crazy is a compliment), but it seems to me that if you're not happy you should do what it takes to be happy. if your job makes you unhappy - quit. period. leave the puritans to their misery. create your own rules for existence. suffering is so last century. get your joy on. quit your job.

if you are reading this from a job you hate, perhaps this helpful and informational video by sara kaye (staring the masterful miss jamie masters and myself) will be the final push you need. enjoy.

a fine rejection

from	The Believer
to		bethany toews
date		Tue, Jun 10, 2008 at 10:33 AM
subject		Re: believer seeks magazine by same title to publish her poetry

Dear Bethany Toews,

Thank you for the opportunity to look over these poems. I think there is some fine work here, maybe especially “lizard tails,” but unfortunately I am unable to accept any. I wish you the best of luck placing them elsewhere.

All the best,
Dominic

--
Dominic Luxford
Poetry Editor
The Believer

On 5/28/08 7:43 PM, "bethany toews" <writebethanymore@gmail.com> wrote:

I'm scared. I'm scared that you'll be mad at me for not capitalizing the appropriate letters. it's not out of disrespect nor is it some outgrown punk-rock rebellion. I must confess, I am lazy. the time it takes to know what should and should not be capitalized is what kept me from writing for years until I finally realized that I could make my own rules (thanks largely in part to the mcsweeney's establishment where rules are beautifully broken on a regular basis). ever since that momentous moment, I have battled it out with microsoft, word throwing green squiggles under everything I write. I know, I say, but I just don't care. I care about a great many things - cloud shapes and pudding cups and echoing laughter and honest mistakes but proper capitalization of a famous president or an unknown town - I just can't be bothered. anyway, if you're not mad at me, please read my poetry. perhaps perhaps you will think it worth your while...

I posted this because I thought it was awesome. what was awesome was that it came exactly one day after a huge talk about rejection with my dear friend jamie. we are both writers, and creators in general, and we often find ourselves delving into all the complications of such endeavors.

rejection is obviously a big part of being an artist, that and free wine that gives you a narsty headache.

no one, not even van gogh or michael jackson or jesus christ, can win the hearts of everyone. most often you're lucky to get your mother's praise. if you create everything with the intention of pleasing everyone, you might want to consider a different path, one that involves cubicles and a lot of fluorescent lighting. being an artist involves more rejection, or at least indifference, than it does attention and love. but the point is that it doesn't feel like an option otherwise. so why not get over what everyone else thinks (you're crazy, you suck, you're unoriginal, you're not right for the part, publication, so on and so forth) and sign up for your own fan club prepared to be the only member. what I'm a fan of is seeing people believe in themselves, because whether or not someone else does, you're still out there doing it and that in itself, is a beautiful work of art. the world my friends, can never have too much art.

trying to tame a wild zebra

Death Valley Montage From The Heart from kayekilla on Vimeo.

that sara kaye, I tell you what, trying to keep up with her and all her doings is like trying to tame a wild zebra - not easy. and yet we are blessed with the world wide web and access to her montage magic. this video is of our spontaneous trip to death valley we took a few months back. good times. and now you too can be there with us. sit back, relax and enjoy sara's mad camera skills, my vocal stylings and purple mountain majesty.

we're doin' it damnit

one way or another, we're making it happen. a smorgasbord of freelance work and odd-jobs and unemployment checks. we're keeping the dream alive. dreams it seems are like fish out of water and in this dry land life, we have to find the cool pools to swim in, to keep our hope afloat. I believe that living this life as you - and no one else - sees fit, is worth all of the floundering. and despite what may feel like a lack of flow, we are always deep in the ocean of possibility swimming ever so gracefully towards our destination. I say trust your course and don't get caught in the net of uncertainty. swim fast and swim free. to all my fishy friends, I salute you with my fins.

happy birthday to me

one day early. the best gift ever. my mother's creativity. yes, I was given a generous contribution to my "boy I sure need a new laptop fund", (thank you dad for your endless hard work and support to my cause:) and yes, there were loving words from my mom and dad, and yes there was an extra crispy $10 bill from grandma elizabeth along with the tear-inducing proclamation "all my love--I really miss seeing you, I love you so much." (I love and miss you too grandma and hope to see you really soon). but I must confess, despite all the great goodies - including the confetti that sprinkled all over my crotch as I opened the package - my favorite part was my mother's art work. the effort she made to express herself on an envelope. well done mom! and thank you for making it the best birthday before the birthday even begins. tomorrow. I expect donations to the laptop fund to just start tumbling in. into what exactly I'm not sure, but I need to find out, 'cause boy I sure need a new laptop.

happiness was a dance move

These are my Friends from kayekilla on Vimeo.

it's not often that I am this proud of myself. but come on. look at those moves. and wearing grandmas crocheted quilt like it's the freshest fad since visors. I rule. and with fudge and jage and alia bustin' by my side. and sara behind the camera declaring us "her friends." and don't even get me started about how the dodgers won that game. happiness was a dance move!

bethany by bethany

photo by barbara green

I had to write a bio today. anyone who has attempted this task doesn't need me to tell them it's not easy. I opted for the less is more tactic. for someone who likes to talk a lot, that's no small feat. baby steps. we're all getting somewhere. at some point and time. that about sums it up.

as a child bethany dreamt of being a ballerina. bethany is glad that did not pan out. nowadays, after many ramblings on many different shores in many different outfits with many different outlooks, bethany has found herself happily situated in los angeles, california where she is focused mainly on music and writing. she estimates that she has realized approximately 28.4% of her full potential and is excited to see what happens as that number increases. bethany graciously accepts donations to her Follow Your Dreams Despite The Fact That It Almost Seems Impossible At Times Fund. she also appreciates feedback on her writing which you can find at fictioninaflash.blogspot.com. oh, and if anyone has an extra Roland E-09W Interactive Arranger Electronic Keyboard lying around that they are wanting to get rid of, please contact her, she will take it off your hands and put hers on it.

a fistful of awesome

do yourself the favor of seeing the king of kong: a fistful of quarters, arguably one of the greatest accomplishments in documentary film work I have ever seen. a topic easily dismissed as laughable made me and my friends shiny cheeked the other night as we sat transfixed by the story of not as good becomes better and overcomes evil (in this case, a disturbingly egotistical helmut haired hot sauce distributor/video game champion). characters too good for fiction, the wisdom of children and the proof that sometimes, just being a good person is enough (though kicking ass is always a bonus)--this film does what films should always do--entertain and move you. steve wiebe you're my hero!

the means to move

the world wakes
and
I wake with it

the steady sun
lights
the moving world
and
I move with it

from the place I came
to the place I am going

as long as I have
the means to move

I will travel

home improvement

after a year of falling asleep to nicotine walls, jG and I decided it was time to paint our bedroom. "costa rica blue" and "white glove" have transformed our room into an island getaway. everything shines brighter. it's amazing what some paint can do to transform your rental into a real bona-fide home. I used to think that painting was just one more thing I'd have to deal with when I moved out, but thanks to jG I've come to realize that putting in the effort to surround yourself with beauty is always worth it, whether it last 1 day or 100 years.

10 west

because we can

I am writing this from a green plastic chair in front of a big-o-tires somewhere off the 10 in tweakville, az. I am waiting. me and jimmy george are getting new tires put on the old mercedes that we just bought in peoria. we decided to drive out here yesterday, well, because we can. because the hardest part of traveling is just getting yourself into the car or onto the plane, the rest just happens as you enjoy the ride. spontaneity of this type brings a mixture of joy and frustration that we are both quite fond of. a lot of coffee is consumed. a lot of u-turns are made. we laugh a lot and bicker a little. we get away from it all just long enough to realize how very much we like it all. once the new tires have been aligned and balanced, we will get back on the road headed west. after driving hours through the night, we will finally see the los angeles skyline from the elevated curves of the 210. we will be happy that we left and even happier that we are home. we don't leave because we don't like LA, we leave because it's good to know what you are returning to. no better way to know yourself or a place than to get to know another for a bit.

change is good, cupcakes are delicious

this is jimmy george making his 34th birthday wish. I wonder what he is wishing for? wishes are good, they keep us hoping. birthday wishes are even better than regular old wishes because it generally means we are about to blow out a candle that is stuck into something sweet to eat.

as a child, I wished for things to be different. I wished for all the women of my family to trade places with all the men, even if just once. the women would kick up their feet and talk about their daily trials, while the men would mix and kneed and sift and stir. the men would wear aprons over their plaid shirts. they would have a fine layer of flour clinging to their beards while their callused hands worked awkwardly with the dough. under the flickering fluorescent of the kitchen light, their conversations would no longer be about trucks and tractors and engines and corn or why ford was better than chevy or how much rain they were expecting. in the midst of all the baking, they would start to gossip about people--who's pregnant, who's sick, who needs their pants patched. they would discuss why crisco was better than butter or how many green beans they were planning to can. they would share stories of mistakes made in the kitchen, laughing together, sometimes to the point of tears. all the while, the women would be sitting on the couch and in recliners, hands laced behind their heads, elbows splayed out in the universal sign for relaxation.

that wish never came true. though once my father did try to make a sandwich.

growing up, I held my silent, and sometimes not-so-silent protests in whatever ways I could. I failed to learn how to cook or sew. I did not get married at 19 and pregnant at 20. I educated myself. I held strong to my desires despite the displeasure on my grandmother's face. I came out of that past victorious...

but sometimes, we outgrow our revolutions. our points are made and we are ready to return to the place we so passionately fled.

which brings us to this past weekend where I found myself in the kitchen, baking 54 cupcakes from scratch-- carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and dutch chocolate with peanut butter frosting. needless to say, this endeavor was met with many phone calls to my mom--asking her questions I had refused to when I was younger. both my mother and father found it entirely amusing that I was in need of a mixer. hell, I was amused myself. but mostly, I was happy to be able to put jg's birthday wishing candle into something I made for him with a whole lot of love (and butter). it's never too late to learn something new. change is good. and the cupcakes, delicious!

apocalyptic spa treatments

I dreamt the world was coming to an end last night. Planes were falling from the sky like dying flies and I couldn't find any comfortable shoes to wear. There were bobcats and wolverines and eagles and kitty cats all trying to eat each other. There was a woman standing next to me with a hack job of a manicure and while counting bobcat carcasses, I decided one last manicure would be nice. Flash forward to some type of commune, I am wearing a sleeveless sweatshirt, big thick glasses, no pants, and one wool sock. I am doing my laundry in a toilet bowl.

I wake up.

to wonder.