Gear Heads

Is the love of driving a fine machine culturally instilled? While I find internal combustion motors to be archaic, there is something to driving a fine machine that sets my blood aflame and makes my heart soar. It’s sort of akin to riding a horse. Same genre of energy, moving through space, but zipping along over an open bi-way surely goes deeper than car commercials.

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FUCK!!!!

AFTER THE CAR BULLSHIT, AFTER THE REFRIGERATOR BULLSHIT, NOW I HAVE FUCKING DRYER BULLSHIT AGAIN. SO MY LAND LADY BREAKS OFF THE KNOB TRYING TO MOVE A DINOSAUR OF A MICROWAVE OFF THE DRYER THAT I SAID I DIDN’T WANT BUT HOW COULD ANYONE POSSIBLY LIVE WITHOUT A MICROWAVE? FUCK MICROWAVES DUDE. THEY WERE COOL IN THE 80S. NOW THEY CAN LICK MY BALLS. THEN, THERE WAS THIS LITTLE NUB THAT YOU COULD TURN WITH PLIERS BUT AFTER THE WHOLE RIGAMAROLE TO GET ANOTHER PIECE OF CRAP THAT’S BEEN SITTING IN SOMEONE’S MOLDY BASEMENT FOR THE LAST 3 DECADES FRIDGE THAT THE DOOR DOESN’T CLOSE ON, SHE FELT MOTIVATED TO GLUE THE KNOB BACK ON. I WAITED 48 HOURS FOR THAT SHIT TO DRY. OK, GEL DOES NOT ALLOW FOR THE APPLICATION OF PRESSURE. SOME FUCKING GLUE. SO IT BROKE OFF THE TINY NUB, AND NOW THE DRYER WON’T WORK AT ALL.

FUCK MONEY FUCK MONEY FUCK MONEY FUCK MONEY FUCK HUMANS FUCK ALIENS BUT TOTALLY TOTALLY FUCK MONEY AND ALL THE INSTITUTIONS THAT GO ALONG WITH IT. FUCK HUMANS. FUCK YOU ALL FOR FAILING ME, FOR FAILING THE EARTH FOR FAILING YOURSELVES. I DID MORE THAN I COULD HAVE DONE EVERYTHING AND MORE AND NOT NEARLY ENOUGH BECAUSE THIS IS THE CRAP I HAVE TO LIVE WITH. I AM NOT OKAY WITH STARVATION, FREEZING OR NOT BATHING. NOT ACCEPTABLE.

HERE IS WHAT IS AND I EXPECT MORE, MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH MORE. WE HAVE THIS TECHNOLOGY? WORKING APPLIANCES, ALL OF THEM, ALL OF THE TIME, THE WAY THEY WERE INTENDED. FOOD, GOOD ORGANIC HEALTHY DELICIOUS FOOD. INDOOR CLIMATE CONTROL. THE TEMPERATURE INSIDE MY HOME SHOULD ALWAYS REMAIN BETWEEN 50 AND 100 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT UNLESS I’M IN A SAUNA. I WANT A COMFORTABLE BED. I WANT ANDY HERE. I WANT A CAT. I WANT TEAGAN WITH ME. I WANT TO KNOW THAT IF I WORK MY NEEDS AND DESIRES WILL BE MET. ALL OF THEM. ALWAYS. MY SUFFERING IS DONE. ANYONE OR ANYTHING THAT TEACHES THROUGH SUFFERING IS DEMONIC AND WILL BE DESTROYED.

11:16 p.m. Hmmm. I feel better now, but I want something starchy. What a day! So really, I guess I don’t care that the dryer is out of commission. I have only ordinary cotton sheets on my bed and I did not get to wash my comforter, but a bed is so much nicer that a Thermarest, which I will be sleeping on for the next few nights. And this mattress is ever so much nicer than the one in Kentucky. Please universe, may I have an even nicer bed than the one I have here wherever I go next? I’m off to enjoy my last night in my bed for awhile and hope that this trip is productive and fruitful. That at least I line up work for December so when I start looking for a place I can be like, “Oh I’m working at superfinehappytimes”. Yeah, it’s feeling like I’ve planned this from the beginning. I need energy to pack. And I get to look forward to iced mochas in the the morning. It took me 4 days off to recover from working almost a month straight. I don’t know if Sunday and Monday count as days off because of the stupidity I had to deal with.

Basically giving up skiing, ice skating, and snowboarding for winter sounds lame, but not lame enough to make me want to go back to Milwaukee. Instead I can run up and down to the beach with my pack and ride the Schwinn in the rain. yay!

Rants are good.

Right Here

I feel like wanting to do as little as possible.

I am finding some deep issues about leaving, at all. I am okay going to Mt. Shasta. I am okay with camping for work, but everything else, feels wrong. The trip to eastern Oregon was nice. However, Kentucky was so bad on a spiritual level, that I… I guess I am feeling like this trip to the coast may be pointless. Today, I am feeling like I may forgo it.

Alex may be visiting in the Bay the next time I have off and it will give me an excuse to make a trip to visit other people. I have less then 3 months to figure out where I am going next. I feel like I ought to be applying to ski resorts in Colorado or going to the coast to recon moving out there for winter, but my stronger inclinations are to clean and get everything ready for my next session.

I’ve been crying a lot since I’ve been home this time, as though I could call anything a home at this point. Money is the bane of my existence and I want more than anything a job for winter and a way for Andy to come be with me, although at this point I think he may decide to stick around on the farm and if Renae misses him and he’s still in love with her, then he should go where she is, which I am not feeling. Colorado is too expensive and there’s no economic opportunity for me there, or I would, and all my transplanted friends here would be there. Yet, sometimes I wonder if it’s because I have fallen in love with Mt. Shasta. Colorado’s allure is no match. Then I think that Andy will not go back to Renae because he knows it can never be what it could have been. Better to choose a new course. Maybe.

Yesterday I am realizing my emotions run so much deeper than I would have ever allowed. It shocks me. I am beginning to feel for him the way I did for Ken. He makes me glow inside. I am not glowing again, not yet, because I am not accepting being in love. Another pursuit I feel is pointless. And besides, right now, he is far, far away. I was imagining being in Eureka. That we could get a room together in a big Victorian house and that we will both find some sort of work and somehow survive. I imagine that we have different work schedules and he ropes some of the roommates into helping him cook dinner for me. He makes chocolate raspberry moose pie and gets this girl to drizzle raspberry sauce onto my plate reading, “Will you marry me?” He decides this is a completely impractical, though creative way to propose. Before he left, before he leaves, his mother sees, she knows his heart, those secret parts better than he does. She finds a ring for him to take to me. She likes me. Sometimes it’s just timing, but what does one do in timelessness? I come home, find the dining room table all set and smell amazing food. “What’s all this?”

“Lady,” he comes up behind me, pulling out a chair, reaching around to put the box in my hand, “have a seat.” Good thing he pulled the chair out for me or I might have fallen on the floor.

WTF!?! Where does this come from? How can I even still consider marriage? I was trying to destroy the polarity paradigms. He makes me want him that way, and I know he is no demon. He is a lovely mirror and muse to my being. He reflects my inner longings and drives me to creative fancies in music, poetry, prose, 2-D design, culinary creations. He is my high heart flooded with light and my holy grail of personal Christhood. How could anyone besides me love me, because I have a hard time of it sometimes, and to put myself in someone else’s shoes and look through their eyes… Shared passion, shared horizon, time, friendship, respect, sweetness, romance, but the most important thing of all he has, courage.

Unity

So it seems this is difficult, more difficult than expected when you lack expectations and are without plans. You laugh at the buzzing of yet unrevealed harmonics, but you feel the wave, the synergy. Does California do that? I think of a white hot core inside a pine cone. Scale by scale the secret the ego, even the creation myth kept hidden falls away. What is in there? Is that what you were doing? I forgot that I remembered all along.

I find you again, a childhood dream beginning a new translation. The seeds I planted and will plant, the seed you will plant… We find you. We tumble and dance. He sings and his voice mingles in the suddenly autumnal cast of sunlight, birthing unplanned possibilities. I wish a sequence in the energies and new roads unfold as the horizon approaches. Simultaneously the kachinas and redwoods, Mt. Shasta and Summit County, the farmhouse, past and future dreams of art houses and Eureka lighthouses exist. For now, I say good-bye because I have to let go completely to come around again. My friend, in my heart I keep you, but there is only room for joy. Like learning a new music, practice, practice, practice and once again the transcendental magic shall be mastered. Oh the things we shall make! The world we will create!

Recognition

Do I even recognize the flow anymore?

But when I am going through manzanita hell and I see Mt. Shasta peaking at me at the next lava ridge, my heart fucking sings!

Weary, weary, weary. I see the moonlit water on Medicine Lake and I am smiling inside. And still you baby, you are in pine to pine to pine, in the clear azure blue summit of my days and the bitter, bitter promise of autumn. Every dragonfly and golden poof ball seed I blow out into plantations in the shadow of that volcano, etched in sunlight. The young ones seem to understand: the impossibility of planning, the oneness of love, the mastery of surfing.

I dreamed about Miss Emily this morning, as if everything is coming together as everything unravels. Letting go of my heart aches. You, especially, both of you, all of you, because you were already there. I arrive and find myself alone in sunshine surrounded by pines. My thoughts only echo.

What’s the fun of fellowship or creation without accouterments?

The language he uses, as though he were trying to un-tease the same secrets as me. I think of eye twinkles all week. You have been twinkling in my eye for a long time now. Like aspen leaves on a mountain stream all my desires are rushed away in a golden torment, pulling up my collar, tying down my hood, I turn from embracing.

But I want to break through to be the joy of blowing those golden poof ball seeds and cresting to see Mt. Shasta. I want to be that joy for everyone. Against the grain I climb, whipped by wicked winds. How much easier your hand would make the journey! And she remains the lighthouse beacon, the fire among the dreamers. Sister, stay strong. They need your light. I need you to bring forth home again. I’ll lose my way without you. Keep shining! Home? I still strive for it. It is in me and it is me.

The kachinas loom, impressive, awesome, almost frightening in a world where there are no consequences left to clarify, my longing half consumes me. I am empty in the void and safe in the mountains.

What Am I Doing?

OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!

Why do I write anymore? Seriously. Everything changes so that everything I just wrote is completely irrelevant. Now my car is broke down and the 29th is the absolute soonest I can get it fixed. I wanted to go swimming today, but I’m stuck. I really feel I ought to be doing job applications or somehow manifesting winter digs, but…

I want to meet new people and make new friends, but I really think dating is out, because as I am looking for housing in Eureka/Arcata, I realize that there is potential for the words couple and boyfriend to come up. Now if someone can listen to my dumbass for over 2 hours when it’s 120 degrees and I am freaking out about my car/winter/money/work/life. Keeper, definitely keeper. I cannot go on “dates” and simultaneously be making preparations for Andy to join me out here.

I just feel like, other than my company, what could make anyone not in love with this land want to come here over Atlanta or Denver? But I will never go back to Atlanta and Denver is too, too expensive and the jobs pay for shit. Eureka has fewer jobs, but ugh!

Does it matter?

I’m tired of all the good being neutralized by so much bad. I WANT ECSTASY AGAIN! BLISS! Like, if I knew this moment were more than a moment and the peace would continue, it would be much more peaceful, but when nothing is certain, I find myself reverting to the past and clinging to moments in which I was more than content. My survival itself is going to require miracles, and happiness? ENORMOUS miracles, GARGANTUAN miracles.

Nothing makes sense.

But I think of him and low flames turn like white hot coals.

How We Connect

What do Julia Butterfly Hill, Oksana Baiul, snow, Summit County, and Mt. Shasta, and Eureka all have to do with each other? If you can somehow fit mountain lions and the McCloud watershed in there, I will be impressed and let you take over as navigator. Those are themes of the past week, weeks, month, months. Today we had more blueberry and pomegranate wine, Dead Can Dance, and meteor showers.

Captain is playing it low. Maybe he really wants to go home and his home is not where he’s at.

I have changed my mind about staying here right now, or for winter, I think. It is necessary to travel. Thinking about Summit County or northern Colorado, even in the absence of the Captain kind of gives me a little flurry of expectation and exhilaration. Yes, elation and anticipation, because we could do it. Morn me if you like, but did you really want me? It’s true, very much so, we love you. Just step into the all and nothing. Follow your high heart, but if his high heart is somewhere other than where you’re going, bless us brother, bless us. Never never ever do I want to hear about money from you, but I can’t because I want the transition to be smooth, secure. Ha! Fucking haha! Say what bro? This is where the Chi town funk and ghettophabulous lifestyle have served me well.

I know I can’t get what you want doing it the old way, their way, so… even if I want it, and do I, oh my! Well, it will have to be the new way or not at all. So I grieve you I do, but of course, I want your happiness and peace first and foremost, so I know whether you come back or whether we all move on, you’ve enriched me. I let go when you disengage from the dream design. Go do that thing. That frequency will come back later, setting up a new spiral. I have old dreams to play out. So delicious!

Let’s see, so we’ve planted these seeds last winter or longer longer ago than that. Nearly since I knew what a rocky mountain or North America was, we dreamed this, antelope girl, morning star, laughing horse. Alpine meadows echo across centuries. Can the magic inherent in Mt. Shasta bring an unbroken circle to this spiral?

But… oh yay! It’s fucking rad. Back on the board, determined to go even longer without falling off this time. Just need to know a little heart in the heat out there, hard to beat out there, someone besides me out there, ready to play, ready to create, ready to recreate snow mandalas, big cats, mountain meadows, and emerald lakes. We run in wild like jaguars hunting rams. That light, swing it low. When your eyes are like a diamond mine, deep, and bright inside. You you’re on time. I’ve got your back, in case the wind blows off your hat, free of excuses is how I prefer my muses. Wickedly embracing the spirit of being in oneself and everyone else. Our love is all around, always, from the first snow drops of spring to grapes swinging from a vine all lined up in the sunshine in Sonoma to golden leafed aspen in Colorado and lonely November crypts in St. Louis steel grey Lake Michigan waves in blustery December harbors. The beacon of a lighthouse, coast to coast the cost to ride coach but when we were horses Tuscaloosa to Tennessee and cross the border to Cherokee Franklin to Asheville Savannah Atlanta back up to Nashville Cairo Jacksonville Hannibal Fort Collins Laramine Dallas Clovis Albuquerque Fresno to Reno hey where did we go? Days when the rains came? Brown eyes and Van Morrison moondance Harvest Moon Neil Young singing us to life. What a game! What a riot! So the grid iron is replaced with train stations and the strange snow with Joe curtains and basements and then he’s there with the maps, such a twinkle in his hazel eyes, the color of everything I’ve seen along the way making hay while the sun shines. Finally, you’ve come home. Like a father welcoming the prodigal son, who is your guest? Nadeanna, he’s lovely! Beaming, is that pride? Our laughter grows and grows and echoes off the lava ridges. Stealth mode into cougar and you into hawk we patrol the high desert in search of the lost, but here, we’ve found a new home, a new base. We are anchoring dreams from these moorings and Captain, it was you who helped me to open the stargate and reunite us all!

para nossa amour

Tiger

I dreamed this tiger was outside trying to get me. I had to scramble down this two or three story tower to get into the house, so I threw a rooster at it to distract it.

Archie Adam was there. We were about to embark on some road trip or train trip. I beseeched him to only spoon me. I wanted to sleep next to him, because I’d been months and months without human contact. Yet knowing that he’d recently broke up with his girlfriend, I was afraid that more would happen and my resistance would be non-existent.

Well, we got back home and met up with Noah and low and behold, Kevin. There was this like old-west style flop house, but it was in Mt. Shasta. Kevin says he’s leaving to go home soon, so he’s sorry I can’t stay with him, but that you can rent rooms here for really cheap. I look at him kind of like he’s stupid. I have a place here after all. In fact, hadn’t Noah, Adam, and I just come from there?

At some point I took a bath/shower, but it was weird because it was two bath tubs next to each other. Noah was in the inside one to my left. There was a curtain dividing them. I started running a bath because Noah was taking a shower. He’s like, “Why did you take a bath?”

“I was waiting for you to get done so there would be water pressure to wash my hair.” I get a patented, ‘ok you’re a werido look’ as if that’s somehow stranger than the side-by-side tubs. Then I am running around this two story house looking for Quinn who has been picked on by the neighborhood orange tabby that someone let in. Cici is there too. At first Quinn is skittish with me, but then she starts licking me.

Analysis:

The big cats that keep appearing in my dreams I am beginning to feel like are symbolic of my sexual repression, which by the way I plan to continue indefinitely, and my terror of my emotions for Jonathan. These emotions are so intense and seem to appear from nowhere that I have convinced myself they are delusions. I try to let them drop, to let them go, to maintain some semblance of friendship, yet even most of me thinks I should let this go as well. How can I be friends with someone I feel this way about who does not feel the same? Awkward!

Dawning the 7th Night

Oh really? Really? You know it always goes better when I embrace this longing. I am so feeling your frequency and vibing on your love right now. Missing your company and flirtations ever, ever so much in this afternoon. Why not risk everything? What have I got to lose? You known I’d give it all up if I could ease this sadness the distance drops into my heart. Just a little bit, now and then, that’s all I need to hold it at bay, to flower blossoms of brilliant, creative love to overflow my cup. Baby, you know!

Because when it all falls down, I want to be tumbling to the ground of my being with your arms around me, solid and real, a physical presence to hold on to when nothing else makes sense but what comes from the heart.

I am so glad for the serenity of our telepathy. Can it be enough to guide us when we are apart while the infrastructure collapses?

Believe, all you have to do, is believe. And say it if it’s so. I know, it’s so hard for me to admit when it’s staring me in the face, but I LOVE YOU! And I will come and try my hand at the new navigation, if you want me. I will, because I always seem to land on my feet. I will give my complete faith and trust to the One and leave a climate I know I could survive in alone to come to a less gentle land where I will be dependent upon the grace of others. I will… I will… I want to. I know it is the way of the light and in alignment with divine harmony. And it will be the most courageous thing I have ever done, this complete surrender.

Belonging

You see love, it’s that I’ve lost my belonging. Once I felt you so graciously, kindly, gently sheltered my wounded heart. Did I fail to take care with your love for me, or was it merely a delusion that it ever existed at all? I am also so surprised when one I love cares for me. You have grown so distant that I begin to believe things you say are only echos of my own longing. I begin to believe you are only an apparition of my imagination. You consume all that is in me. I fall into myself. I reject the desire that once felt like an everlasting well-spring of joy. I tell myself you… even if you could feel the same… now is all that matters. How I once felt is a ghost image projected on a screen to haunt my dreams. Now is impossible. Where has the future gone? Now the future is only reflections of the past. You are like something I have always known, but forgotten. In your presence, I remember. With the distance, I forget. Why do you fail to convince me that you want me there? It is not time. I want you here. How can I leave home? How can I go into the vast dangerous unknown? How can I face a cold winter? Why am I so unsure of you? I have begun to doubt this love. Surely I loved you. Surely it was the greatest love I have known in this life. I left everything to come home. How could I leave home to come to you? Why do you continually challenge me, at once pushing me away while you test the temper of my faith in you? I want to let go. I only find myself adrift. The fear of risking everything, risking my own survival when there is a chance of your rejection. Tell me you will accept the light of my love! That I can be completely confident, and rest assured in the shelter of your longing.

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