The time: 3am

I can’t sleep. I’ve brewed a pot of chamomile tea with honey. I’m sitting by the window, sipping the hot tea and looking out on our parking lot where just about anything can (and usually does happen), but this is a Monday morning. It is normally quiet until the trains start to run and the huge delivery trucks begin to arrive at the weighing station.

I notice two boys (well, I would guess that they were both somewhere in the confusion that is the mid-twenties) — but, the older I get the younger other people seem. But, that is a whole different topic.

Anyway, these two boys are bicycling up to just under our window. They jump off their mountain bikes and carefully lock them to one of the city street sign beneath me. They look around to be sure no one is watching them. They do not notice me as I’m above them and sitting in the dark.
They cross the driveway to the fence that separates our parking spaces from the feeder road. I begin to suspect that they are about to have some sort of dirty tryst in front of our building (well, this happens here) — but, instead they sit in a parking spot, light up a couple of joints and share drinks from a Jack Daniels bottle.

I sip my tea.

They partake of weed and liquor. They begin to laugh. Then they kiss. It was at this point they noticed me. One of them gives me the peace sign. I return it. The other offers up his joint to me and motions for me to join them. I shake my head and smile.

They finish up their pot.

I pour another cup of tea.

They sort of wobble back to the street sign, unlock their bikes and begin what appears to be a laborious peddle back on to the street. They leave their bottle. They are gone.

I begin to think I might be able to fall asleep. It is 4am.

I rinse out the tea kettle and wash the honey from my cup.

As I close the window to block the cold northern California breeze and notice that someone has already taken the bottle. It is a homeless man. He curses and throws the bottle into the street.

A gentle moment shattered on the pavement.

And, sleep comes to the weary.

getting better
healing
adjusting to this floating bubble of a feeling
stomach wanting for more
my pockets are empty
but, my heart is full of love
and this simple fact is more power(full)
than any pain
i close my eyes
and try to pull myself to the ground
…to the earth

(You see it all started when Little Bagel needed an operation and we had already drained all of our resources for the other treatments. And, after both the bank and Ing turned us down for a loan to send Little Bagel to Australia for the rare operation — well, I had no choice but to go to the Tenderloin and seek employment to earn some quick change! No! I’m not a man-whore! I’m not! …but I was told I have the best palm in all of San Francisco! I’m telling you they line up for blocks! At first I was a bit intimidated by the whole scene, but quickly made life long friends at the club!)

In case you’re wondering I saw the new film IRINA PALM in which Marianne Faithfull must go to unusual lengths to raise money to save her ill grandson. Once I got past the shock of seeing Marianne Faithfull playing a frumpy grandma — I rather enjoyed the film! Of course, one would only expect Marianne to be good at this sort of job — even old and with the crazy ass sad hair-do and clothing! Tho, I felt it resolved itself a bit too simply and romantically — I really did enjoy the movie.

But, I must say it is hard to see my idols age. Tho, it happens to all of us! Marianne is doing it with grace (!) and in full R-rated glory! (hole, that is!) I do suggest a viewing if it is playing in your city! Those of you in the UK must have already had the chance last year! Why did none of you not tell me about it?!?!? Here is the preview which will explain a bit:

Still, it is upsetting to see that Ms. Faithfull went from this:

To This: Oh, well.

Today I decided to set my magical iPod to “shuffle” mode. This can be a bit worrying, but after a hand wanking grandma movie I figured I was up to the challenge! And, this is what my iPod told me as I walked Market Street!

“Baba O’Riley” by The Who
“Keeping You Alive” by The Gossip
“Trampled Under Foot” by Led Zeppelin
“Younglam” by Darling Kandie
“Accidents Never Happen” by Blondie
“I See A Different You” by Koop
“Clock” by Stephane Pompugnac
“Fucking on the Dance Floor” by Dirty Sanchez
“Do The Bambi” by Stereo Total
“Woke Up New” by The Mountain Goats

…all great songs. Well, the red light at my station just went on. We all know what that means!!!

Gotta run!
kisses from just east of GayTown,
matty (palm)

woke up with a start
tumbled toward the toilet
but then i saw the ghost of you appear there
— your pants unzipped and cowboy belt buckle hanging loose —

i ran for safety,
but found myself laid to the floor
— my arm burning with pain —
— my head dull with an ache —
i must have dashed into the wall shelf
fallen backward

laying there in a land between
dream and real
past and present
flakes left over from that horror show of ours

i stood up despite the pains on my arm and in my head
now fully awake and bruised
i walk toward the present
trying to aim for hope

Warning: This Post May Contain Information of a “Sensitive” Nature. Reader Discretion is Advised!

But, if you’re reading my blog you probably already know that. Anyway — I may not be nuts about living this far from GayTown — but no one can say that life is dull living on the cusp of West Oakland!!

As I started to drift off in my shrink-induced haze of sleep ’round about 2am this Sunday morning I heard the following pour through one of the half opened windows of our loft:

screeching tires and two car door slams

“Oh, Baby!”
“Oh no, nigga! You pay up front!”

then I heard what sounded like whimpering and slapping.

Bagel started to freak out and I was worried that a woman was being beaten. I sort of fell out of bed and fumbled down the stairs of our bedroom loft to the window. We don’t live in a good hood. The parking lot/front yard is very well lit — and what should greet my eyes?!?!

Well, I will tell you.

A red sports car, a tall man and a rather large woman. These three things might not be so unusual except the woman wasn’t really whimpering so much as she was moaning in fake ecstasy, and the slapping I was hearing was not the sound of a hand hitting another person — but the sound of hip slamming into booty.

Yes, there it was. A large (and horrifyingly well-endowed!) man and a crack ho with her mini skirt hiked — revealing a rather large butt! She was spread out with her chin on the hood! The man was grinning like he was the happiest man on the planet.

At first I thought I might be tripping and then the following came from the open mouth of the rather “gifted” woman: “Oh, daddy! Yeah! Give it to me, Daddy! Daddy! Give it to me Daddy!”

B had slipped into a quiet sleep ’round 11pm Saturday evening. I had no choice. I woke him up as if some natural disaster was happening in the parking lot! You see, I needed a witness!
B jumped up and we both looked down in a mix of horror, confusion and open-jawed shock! We also had to fight the urge not to giggle!

“How is she able to take him so easily?!?”
“Practice!”

…and, then, all the more interesting and exciting — a surfer dude artist who lives here walked out and up to the “very bizzzzzy” couple and began to talk to them. We could not make out what he said, but the ho jumped off the hood and into “Daddy’s” car, and “Daddy” started saying to our resident surfer artist dude, “Oh, you’re a good man! Thank you, my man! No problems here, my man!”

…and, with that — Daddy and Crack Ho took off with a skid mark (so to speak) and were but a nasty low-fi porn memory!

I really want to move! However, I was so upset when Ing and A asked me why I had not taken a picture! I honestly do not know. I think I was just too surprised by it all — not to mention blitz’d out on my dolls! I don’t shock easily, but one typically does not see this sort of thing in his/her front yard.

(a sigh and a shudder!)

My beloved Goldfrapp released their new vid-clip in the UK last week. It makes me smile… Thought I would post it before the weekend officially starts — especially after my sad little poem.
kisses from just east of GayTown,
matty

i thought i was dying
i held you tight
so tight it must have hurt

and now
sitting alone
catching my pulse
i close myself into a fist

pulling the fire into my lungs
i know i am not alone
i know i am not dying
but, i am so weary

like “they” say —
fact is so much stranger than fiction

It was a long weekend and the weather was just about perfect. B leaves for Canada in a few days and my mother will be arriving on Tuesday to hang with me and Bagel (code for babysitting me while B is gone!) …Anyway, Bagel was looking particularly bored — doing what we call The Bagel Carpet Pose for far too long. So, we decided it was time to take our Shih-Tzu to the ocean.

We were not sure how she would take to the sand, waves and other dogs — but it turns out she is a regular little beach bum. It was a lot of fun. However, she looked a bit like a dirty wet rat after about ten minutes. Bath time for Bagel that night was an Extended Event and we’re still trying to get some of the tangles out of the Princess’ hair!

I might continue to be “out of the cyber pocket” while my mom visits, but I shall return! Things are getting better, but it is a slow path. Seems like most are.

Here are some pictures from our day at the beach! (bagel even made a new friend!)…she may be a wet rat, but she’s ours! …if only her Aunt Ing were a better mentor, Miss. Bagel might have conducted herself with a bit more decorum. …Or not. Hmmmm…

Sebastien Tellier! Aside from being a rather attractive fellow — I think he is a bit of a pop genius! I am so loving all of his music. He is from the French pop world. Sometimes lush, sometimes simple melody and sometimes quite magical!

I’ve been a bad blogger and I’ve been just as bad with my emails and my phone. I’m sorry. I think I’m trying to find my way out of a dark hole and sometimes it is just hard to concentrate. And, I’m preparing myself for B’s having to leave for several days. I don’t seem to cope so well these days. Big surprise. However, I am making progress. It is just a slow go I guess.

So, per usual, I’ve been leaning on music. Of course there are the trusty old stand-by’s of Barbra and Goldfrapp — but, these last couple of weeks I’ve found some other works to drown out all the noise of my days.

Mostly, tho, I’ve been in a sort of Bach fugue. I pretty much have only listened to these two recordings:
I’m not sure what I’m finding so attractive about Bach’s music. I’ve never paid much attention to it before. I think I find it interesting how his work almost sweeps me up but holds me at a sort of distance — it is quite pretty, but ice cold. Like a glass sculpture that you know wants for touching, but it simply isn’t allowed. Bach almost seems forbidden. I don’t know.
And, I’ve been playing this record a lot. I don’t think Bagel cares much for it, tho. However, does rock get much better than “Shattered”?!?! This record reminds me that The Rolling Stones will always matter.
My Ing (and she is mine!) gave me this CD last weekend. It rocks! Well, actually, it is more a little country than rock but is quite good! …I especially like “I Am The Sky”.
…and, this was a surprisingly great film! See it if you can!

as a cloud starts to lift i find myself taking a re-stock of life. perhaps life, like art, should not be expected to make sense. maybe one is better to just allow it to wash over you in all its mess, troubles, woes, joys and trauma.

when food becomes an enemy, when sleep becomes the portal to danger, when memory is something to be seared from the brain, when the comfort of a pillow becomes a shield and when the true beauty of the body becomes a distortion — perhaps that is the time one should take a walk, a puff on a cigarette, a sip of tea, a walk through a gallery, a ride on a streetcar to the freedom of the ocean and bach providing the backdrop for these moments. (and the way he was never able to finish that final fugue movement — forever ending abruptly. …forever stuck in 1750)

and, as i try to contemplate and make sense of the way life tosses us all about, i do find comfort. and, not so much in art but in this moment when i hear the front door close, lock and footsteps of my lover walking away — only to then hear those steps return. the door unlocks, opens and he walks toward me. i am only half into sleep as the sun slips back into our room.

he kisses me gently. …sensuously upon my lips.

my mind tries to pull me away from sleep to fully embrace the eroticism of this moment, but i drift into a silent sleep as i hear my love return to the door, it locks and he walks away to his day.

i am loved.

he has kissed me the way i him as he sleeps next to me during my times of personal horror. and, the taste of him brings me closer to safety.

perhaps the way to not let life beat me down is to accept it for what it is.

like art, let it wash over me. simply accept what the artist creates. take solace in what i have

complexities and limitations — the abstractions of life.

( maybe love is the secret )
…pushing me forward.