Il Pompadour (The Christmas Post)

I've been wondering what kind of post i would make out of christmas? would my post turn raw? or do itself clever? would it be wide and overcoming? would it be inconsequential? would it be fragile and small? I hoped that something would come of it.
Well this is it.
we did our christmas eve service, I sang in the choir, and we sang patsy cline, and gospel, and two other gorgeous ones. I was nervous, b/c our church, our funky church is moving to a presbyterian one, and we will remain separate, but we will still take under the same roof, and join without joining.
the presbyterians, i wasn't sure if they would take to our stomping choir. the frist presbs: there the old school christians with the sweaters and santa claus pins, verging on stiff or already stiff, in heavy pews. would they clap? would they stand? would they get us? would they dig us?
i'm up there with the choir, and the comforting moment came when my pastor Dan came up and there below me was his pompadour. He blonde hair moosed up and struck at this certain angle, with this slant or edge that he keeps up. it was shining. I was relieved. i was like "wow." It was like "Victory!" I knew "we're here" and they would have to take us. that we're cool, maybe we'll teach them how to be cool in our undertoning postmodern way. And Dan was doing this talk and it was more singularly themed, just remaining on the same point, really sticking to that one-pointer, in a "i'm stepping-on-your-feet" kind of manner. for some reason, I'm loving this analogy right now. I think of Dan's talks to be usually like a very good doodle. I mean a brilliant doodle. but with an element of surprise, and randomness, and simpleness, accessibility, but also with good trailing loops, or theological smart loops, and also with some fun. and that's how i think. but like i said, the talk was more centered on this night. but the best thing, was the Pompadour.

it all came out.

My mom came, and she told me the story. she told me of my past. of my father. i feel like i'm Cindy Bristow in Alias when she finds out the truth about her mother, when the character of her mother being the KGB agent and all the rest came out. I feel like the mask has come off my father, and the whole h, eartbreaking story. but strangely i feel freed now. i know. i know. and my suspicions, and my irritations with my father's behavior for my whole life, all add up. i get who this guy is now. and i don't need to try anymore, i don't need to blame myself: "he doesn't get me, he doesn't see me, if only i could show him . . , if only i could . . . ..." all this misjudment i have tried to repair,i can stop, i can stop. i think this may be the first time i have felt conviction.
my father since i remember has been hostile to me and my endeavors. he doesn't stand up for me, he always opposes me. and this last episode, this last breakdown crushed me. i was trying to prove myself and explain myself. and it felt like they, my dad and his family, were all mad at me. but now i know that the irritation does not come from me, but is from the disjunct in who i am and who my father is. my father is a disjunct. i cant believe i came from him. i can't believe my mom loved me so much, that i was no bad reminder of him and what he put her through. i can't believe my mom loved me so much. i can't believe, or now i can believe how much my father loathed me. i'm not getting into what i've learned. but here's one thing. it was my father who was trying to get my mom to have the abortion. it was my father who misled my mom. he used my mom. and etc. it gets bad. but wow. i just can't believe that my father is so messed up. he is so messed up.
i feel so much better, i don't need to look towards him.
i told my mom about my past, the relationship that. . with the guy who kept me hostage, no-name. and wouldn't let me go home for more than 5 minutes, and twisted my mind to think horrible things of myself, THE HORROR. i had been through it too exactly, my mom had too. she came down to santa cruz, she was late, she wounded up lost infront of El Palomar, I came, and we were walking arm and arm, i was feeling very strong and intense and beautiful, and we walked by him, by no-name right there, he looked immaciated and dark, maybe he's off the NA, or maybe in it. but he looked weak, and scared my me. i just stared at him, big eyes to sink him. he just kept looking forward. this time i was on top. last time i saw him, he was on top, in the car, he spotted me first anad said "don't ever forget my name!" thrusting in me this awful avenge. now i saw him. how ironic i saw him with my mom, after we told each other of these horrors. for the first time i felt somewhat ok. seeing that guy, not totally scared and pinned. i felt ok.

It was time

It was time for a new look. This template, however, leaves me indefinately unsatisfied.
the song here goes "I am nobody's daughter."
please nobody post a commment about that i am jesus's daughter.
i belong to HIm, i know. but right now i am mourning my earth father.
please no-one assume im theirs.
please no-one assume i'm naiive by my eyes.
my eyes will always go on like this.

Betrayal.

Gd.

God help me stand.
God help me keep.
keep myself.
God let me not mourn my father's disgusting missed idea of me,
separate me from his incapable sight. his misses me everytime. i think he loathes me deep down, let this not sear me. let him not undo me. my good work, my good path.

no words

i have told this too many times. my father is against me. he always has been, it's sad. i want to tell him, that i do not want any more input from him. whenever he tries to tell me anything, it is with such vehemence against me, this disgust at me. even when he was talking to my mom about this whole ordeal, he brought up my allergy to dairy and wheat, and how upset he was, and how dare i inconvenience everyone. which i don't i bring my own substitutes.
and no matter how i explain or show up, he misses me, he does not understand me in the littlest. i remember sending him my book of poetry. and he never said anything, and i asked him, and he was like OH yeah. not remembering anything though he claimed too. i was trying to show him the width of experiences I had had, (b/c they were captured in my poems) from my earlier celebrative poems to the later ones of recovery of dammage of return. i don't think he read the lines.

i need to set up boundaries with him. i demand respect. i demand respect. you know he pats my hip as if i'm some broad. it's that weird thing that some fathers do, when they get all stoked on their daughters prettiness and bod. it's a blur of lines, it's gross. he is childish. he got upset last time i was there bc i wasn't wearing skirts and he had a talk to me about the importance of how the wife looks for their husband. and now he's basically treating me like the "slut" like the dumb girl who goes foolishly and makes trouble. how dare i get drunk, i guess i was asking for rape. that's what he thinks. i guess i'm simplifying it, but that is the source of where he's at.

i didn't think it could get worse

i CAN'T tell you how horrible all this is. i am being persecuted by my dad's family. my stepmom called me screaming "you're disgusting! You're disgusting!" My father and them have been talking about me, talking about what happened with everyone but me. Talking to the man, my inlaw thatcher, who i believe raped me. My daad finally calls me "why didn't you call me before?" he says, "i wanted to get all the facts before." as if i'm a stranger, as if i'm the perpetrator.
you see, i was trying to protect myself, take care of myself, with the aftermath of last week. I might have been raped, and unfortunately it will always be unknown. I got intoxicated to the point of blacking out. and yes, this is awful, but i have admitted my wrong for this part. so to continue. . . . I saw many red flags the next day and have been experiencing discomfort physically. this man undressed me! he looked down when i asked him if he did something to me, but it's true that i had thrown up on my clothes. so he is my inlaw and my family is defending him and appalled at me. and i can understand disagreement witht the issue at hand, but i can't understand the assalt after assalt on me, me. for just investigating.
I have taken partial responsibility, it is not fair to put all responsibility on me.
i think my father truly hates me. he is talking sh*t about me, screaming at my mother about my allergy to wheat and dairy and how dare I misconvenience everyone. which i don't. i bring my own soy milk.
the worse part is the long emial i wrote him, defending myself and the choices i made when i was concerned, and even getting into all the details of what happened and how my body felt, and all this. well he showed both his receptionists! he showed them! he said "i wanted to see what they thought, im not a woman." b/c he is against me, how dare he, what did he think, that was confidential. this is horrible

hello from Monday

hello from Monday.
I love the Ugly Mug.
was in San Francisco all Thanksgiving weekend. had a sf thanksgiving dinner: My sister made salmon for the dinner. We took our shoes off. some people wore slippers.
stayed with summi all weekend in bernal heights. love her landlady, this british reporter, writer, overpouring with anencdotes concerning every hotspot to go to, the best restaurants in Taiping, downtown sf, and havanna. she is so inernational and so hip.
i think i might just rest this post now.

so unsubtle

there is nothing unsubtle about the Lord. This is what I feel strongly this morning. He is There. the spirit is There, when my life keeps veering into ways i could have never imagined would be enticing to me. I feel out His ways, as some things glow, some things just seem to carry nothing.

When Jesus found me on March 13th, for the first time ever, I felt him in my body. in the most intimate way, and the light and brilliance poured UP. as in a spring. and i can't even believe that still b/c that is how it is told in the bible. And incredibly, He knew that's what he had to do to reach me specifically. as a woman and as the MOlly, ive been super sensitive to any sensation in my body. and yes i am more of the feeling plane. so i pay careful attention to this vehicle of mine. and the energy that it carries. and back when, I used to be into the "goddess" as it seemed that that was the only way a woman could trust God, a "god" that menstrates or has hips or something, a strong figure who understands our plight. but it only took one "we moon" calendar of trite female paintings cliching the female body and earthy and blah blah, for me to have enough and for me to be completely bored by the whole concept, now [DISCLAIMER] this was many years ago, possiblly 2000.
I realize now that this need to try to worship a "goddess" or the earth mother is just a very contemporal attempt to feel good and build an alternative to the "patriarchy" and yes, maybe that is an unfortunate situation, but it is just a reaction to our times, and to our gender, and to this age. it is not the eternal Being. And it is just worshiping ourselves, mirrors of ourselves. I don't thing God would be play favorites like that. God couldn't be on any one side. God is for all. And He continues to give to us in the way that we need. He continues to show up. to show up for us in every capacity. I'm blown to see how God moves men and women alike to swoon so in love, and to capture the poor, the rich, the wild ones and the tame. we're in this rodeo together. it's completey renewing and captivating and freeing.

Jel

Tell me, tell me about it, jel. Jel is playing on my speakers. i use to play him on my radio show. breakbeat electronica. a master. synco pated beats, delayed. i'm finally jeling into this mad work of mine. these words. these words to edit. im feeling all pastoral, speaking for the Man Pastor Fred Small, not so small, this book is not so small either. thank you 2 medium cups of coffee.

firmament

i am pondering how the mighty God has given me a whole new firmament to be alive in.

as you know, i am a new believer. I digress: back in the day when i upheld all kinds of "gods" mysterious, and elaborate the like, i used to be able to insert myself on God, on these "beings" (cascading from hinduism and the hokey goddess of earth) As I declared them and knew them, I was able to control them, to pinpoint them, to pin them down. in my poems i pinned them. i could chase them with my wild metaphors and i put them in all kinds of situations to watch them pan out. i wore them out. with my obtuse clues. the endless similies! in fact, my poems outweighed them. my poems became greater than them greater than god. My gosh, my poems one upped them!
But that can be no God. This God. the God who created me, i can't contain. I cannot wear out. my poems can hardly impress. And the weirdest thing for me, for the first time ever, i can't find a metaphor for God, For Christ. b/c there's no way i could reduce christ. and yep, he's beyond.

Now with Christ my whole firmamament has changed.
No longer is God an entitity to entertain me. I can no longer toss God up like pancakes with my cleverish mouth and words.
The mighty God is so stubborn! I adore Him for it. i've been working on this poem with the working title "The immovable God" about my frustration as a poet who can no longer do as I please with the God of my imagination. The Good news is that God blows my mind.
He's given me a new firmament, to yank Mr. Ariel's lovely choice of wording. i hope he's glad for my cut-and-paste. because i really think this word works. . ..
i just peered at firmament in my thesaurus. --giving me a much different approach then i fathomed. calling it the vault of heaven, starry cope. sky. i think of it more as the grounds one walks on. the entire field. i feel like i'm walking in a new place, in this field that goes on and on forever. I've gained a place that is forever. and it's happening now! it touches me all the time. it's not local! it's familiar! it's just good.

My Wheels

the celica
Plunk your eyes on the celica, the Molly, and the Camille. Identities revealed! Now somebody out there who's got the winner name for my celica. (see previous post on the Car-naming Contest.)

PS, my favorite go-go is Morissey, it is everly satisfying, going into third and flying down Morissey.

P.S. This car may be a boyname.

Don't let me down

"Don't let me down!" Paul screams, I'm at the Ugly Mug and the Beatles are lamenting. and so am I.
my people are letting me down. tonight my heart sinks. Patrick never called, and also the b-day party is off. i found again that i have no chemistry with D-man and i should, he is good man, and he is down, but i knew, it was in the kiss, or should i say it was not in the kiss

Naming my Red Convertable

I'm naming my red convertable, uttering names that flick into my head as i drive to try them out on her. no name has fit yet.
I need your help dear bloggers.
This is my foxy new convertable, see my past entry "Just" for her landing in my life.
She is not a Roxanne as my girl's Sarah's red car is who we for years go out in the town with, but she is a close cousin. She is foxy, yes, but she is not so fiesty as Roxanne. she is steady. she is from 1990. she has fake fur inside. she is comfy and she is a lowrider.
I thought maybe she was a Judith, because she is conquering and means business. but i think that name is too ancient for her keenness. then I though Delilah in the same damaging manner, but then i got queezy thinking of that woman "delilah after dark" on the radio who does late night love songs and i don't want that kind of competition.
Gwen may be a possibility because there is something pure and intriguing and different abou that name, but it's a little bit too easy going of a name and simple.
Names like Danny and Stevie are tempting, boyish girl names but they are too boyish, and too eeeee in the sounds which was my old cars' utterance (Athena) so i need to move away from those kinds of vowels.

So help me out dear readers, this is a name contest. who can think up the name of my car? The winner gets a ride in my car.

The name should be a somewhat common name, American, you know nothing to ancient or unrecognizable.
here's some more hints to my car's personality.
She is both boxy and long.
She is not racey be/c she has nothing to prove.
She is sassy.
She is not clingy.
She goes where she wants.
She's got a stick.
She doesn't follow "inclinations" she just goes, as if it's already happened.
She's got a deep and strong horn really makes herself known without being too overbearing.
She's a convertable with a black top. Toyota Celica
And she's not exactly girly. but she is femme. all femme.
She is daring.
She plunges right in, She goes.
She is satisfied.
With her there's never a lost cause.
She has no alter-ego, no alias. (unlike me who has about 5)
she is convicted.
She is deliberate.

Finding it.

I found the precious piece of paper, a note that my grampa kept. The man of my Life.
The list is titled P.P.P and here is what follows:

Bicycle
Stones that gyp
Have found
Multiplication table
140 MPH
Money for drawing
Blusing
Hornets
Shakespeare
Favorite Action
Ring
Stories
Embarrassment
Church
Tea - Coffee
Driven
Ex-temp Speeches
Bowling
Baseball game
Swear
People who smoke cigs
People who eat cheese
Don't like chickens etc

so i think my grampa, who was somewhat acquard socially, but really funny also, i think he kept this note as things he had come up with to talk to my gramma with, some catchers, when they were dating. because he liked her too to think up anything brilliant while on the spot with this gorgeous sweetheart. my gramma, who was a singer on the radio, obsessed with songs like "somewhere over the rainbow." so this note is probably from the early 1920s when he was in his twenties.
The hilarious thing is that I keep notes scribbled all over anything in my purse, check books and receipts, i use all these when i get little hints of good writings.

But losing this piece of paper and then finding it reminded me that I have heritage. my awesome brilliant grampa. who made all kinds of inventions and knew every kind of rose.who was patient, and grew bamboo, and took pictures. and sometimes he just waited in the parking lot of my school for me after dropping me off till 3 oclock. who had a model T Ford when he was 18. who was the first person to take aerial photos of Midland Michigan up in his buddy Jack's plane. who whistled a lot. who taught me all about trains. who knew every street in san francisco. who took me to watch the oil ships come in the bay and we'd watch their magnificence. almost like creatures. He was still. And when i was born, he became silly. And from then on we couldn't stop. we spilled into each other. This is my Markey heritage. It is my golden coin.

So now I'm struck with the fact that i come from special people, and that i'm even special. And although the boys WILL take-off from my scene and whether this is just my bad-luck or just the default of this flipflop town, it does not matter, because i have heritage. I had a brilliant grandfather who cherished me, who was devoted to me and loved me unconditionally, who i got to be wild with, who i got to be my very fiesty me. We'd sit for hours on end in his old faded car and watch the rain, watching nothing continue to happen on my lazy suburban street except for maybe my cat Snowy come home and ignore us. he'd be telling me some story or explaining some mechanical process to me and I would fade in and out of listening. My grampa loved to watch the eventless, like the little children following their parents at the mall while we ate McDonalds and listened to the drone of the echoes in the mall.

going to job #3

i am going to job #3, there will be things that i forget. underwear, toothbrush, something. im home for not much longer. i'm having a really good evening. i ate an apple with PB and J. i called up the Bri. chatted, i im-d the D. i finally broke down and called Patrick. he is not a christian, but he is a history major. he used to be a hippy like me ..... got disillusioned quickly as i did at kresge. he is a very good guy, i think. he is smart. he's already told me he's intimidated of me, of how smart i am. (props to boy)
but here i type,
call me homeboy.

Lenny's

at the end of the night sarah and i went to Lenny's like good old times. i'm in my home town, at denny's and i feel like i'm back in high school, used to go there with the girls from my all girl school ,it was the only thing to do was a teen at 1 am. we used to walk about and talk to strangers and sometimes just sit at their tables and start talking.
we were brave and able as going to an all girl school made us feel pretty untouchable. i love denny's. (moon over my hammy!)

tonight

just had a fabulous night with my sarah girl, drove up to marin. checked out the famous sweet water bar in mill valley, we passed for the covercharge, though there was a lookalike U2 cover band. but the crowd was too marin and outdated. we went to the 2 am club. i hunkered down on the solitaire machine. then we played Ms. Packman. that was the most satisfying thing i've done in weeks.
sarah and i played some guys to pool, and sarah swept the whole table everytime, 3 solids in a row. that girl is solid.

Impossible

Scottie was an impossible kind of man. His spirit was so generous and grand. he was so happy, he loved to hung and he'd take you in with this kind of hook, as one arm was kind of bent always so when he'd grab you down for a hug, you would be down for a little bit. "oh hello molly" he'd say to me. in this way i can hear i don't know how to explain, but i remember that. he had three daughters. he was such a wild man in his life, surfing, and the lead in this rockband, women threw themselves at him, he was in law school when he OD'd. heroin. they took him off coldturkey and that is why he went under for months and had the visions that he did. he saw jesus, he always talked about when he saw jesus on the cross. "he was smiling!" he'd remind me. "he had this huge nose! his nose was huge!" he'd smile, reminding me of how jewish he was. as his visions piled up i got annoyed. how could i get annoyed? it was too much, all the kinds of beings in his dreams. he'd tell me them over and over again. i also pointed out how in his second book "into the mystic" his autobiography, that whenever people said anything to him, he would respond with the outburst "what the hell!" or "how in the hell!" i said "scottie, this doesn't sound like you, like your voice, you're always saying"what the hell this, what the hell that" and upset. can we vary the tone in your voice?" trying to make it more interesting. but he loved the dramatic outbursts of his Scottie person of his book. And i lift my hands up now and laugh at myself for having tried to put the kaputs on his scottie outbursts. yes scottie! let the upset scottie of his book be. let him have his wild man as he wants in "into his mystic"

Just

everything feels just right tonight. I skipped kickboe, my car was in the shop. I picked it up and now it is going much smoother. Today is fall, it is very much fall with winter kicking in. it makes me happy. it makes me happy when it is cloudy. I feel all myself and all contained and the sky is heavy with all kinds of depth and weight, and the sounds seem more pronounced. somehow i think b/c the sky is soggy and holds down everything more on a day like today. the world seems quieter, so now the sounds that do go by really infiltrate me and i can hear the cars passing by from the front of the house, the less busy but still busy market street. the noises, they kind of lag today with the wetness of a city with rain on the way. it's gonna burst anytime now.
soon i get to climb in my red convertable. indeed! my sister gave me her red convertable. a 1990 toyata celica--she's got that long and boxy look. she's fabulously early 90s. the best thing about my crammed life is going places, i get in her with the faux scruffy fur seats and i feel a little more endless. we re rolling now, i just learned stick the weekend i picked it up (Oct 1) in San Francisco which was wild and people drove like maniacs. but i don't think i stalled nearly as many times as yr average whoever would on their first drive considering the steep and senseless ways that San Francisco goes. on my first go i drove my sister to treasure island for her meeting with a couple, she's a wedding photographer. getting off the ramp i went from 5th gear into 2nd gear on a dramatic abrupt left turn that the ramp makes. getting on the island, the manmade island built for the world's fair in the 30s, then was a military base, now is abandoned with old military quarters and then low-income housing. driving around its vast plains i ruminated this spot that i love so. it's a lucky place for me. i was conceived there. (I'm a love-child!) and as I grow, I like that. this impossibility of me. the streets are wide and i took off around Treasure Island's racetrack as it wraps around the base, passing abandoned buildings and gaping huge aircraft stores. this island with no distinct edges, a manmade plateau that spills into the lapping water of the choppy bay. And i too spilled from side to side, gliding around in my new ride. like i could keep going. it's an impossible kind of place

scottie sequel

scottie, i wish he could return. vanished. my buddy.
he was so generous, he was so happy. all crinkled on the couch. i used to feed him salmon everynight for dinner, i'd feed him while we watched comedy central. chappelle show, Daily Show,: we'd laugh and laugh, so hard he'd almost choke on his salmon. he was pretty much blind, but he could see stuff. it was always random what he could see, stuff on the edges i think. when i put him in his bed, i'd have to sort of pull his body up to the pillow and get him in place. so I'm bend and move his frail body up to be positioned. he always went "oohh! you're so strong!" in his garbled voice. "You are strong woman! i like my women strong!" and i'd go "that cuz i'm russian!" and he'd smile this glee. "You're so strong!"

Scottie

Scottie passed, my beloved friend scottie.
Scottie! you arranged your life the way you wanted. yes Scottie, we said Ciao bella! to me b/c i was just back from Italy then, i said Ciao bello! to you.
Scottie was the paralyzed man that I worked for, I was his editor and caretaker, i'd come up to his house on west cliff and work on his book, trying to make out his words which were jarbled and gruntful, but i got your language, and i knew your facial expressions too. when i saw you in the hospital, with the trachiotome you could not talk but i knew you were laughing when you rolled your eyes up and to the left, and lifted your chin, that is your face when you laugh. and i can see your grin, your wild smile, you were the most rambunctious man, though crinkled on the couch, i emailed your buddies you've known your whole life, those same guys you were in the rocknroll band with in the early 70s, i'd email your daughters, i emailed your granddaughter for you, and you always ended her emails with "do you know how much your grandpa loves you?" or "don't ever forget how much your granddad loves you." and we all circled around you scott, we came to you like a magnet. all your attendants, your friends, your family. you were a cornerstone in this town, you grew up here. i was the hostess at your last birthday party in december, you were 52. . . .

keepin

i keep writing little posts in my head, then losing them. i go up to camp kennolyn to sleep and through the baby monitor i make sure the old lady sleeps too. no computer. no energy. today at kick boe i was so tired so tired. how does that work? molly tired, kicks 220 times and punches thrusts hook, jab, sidekcik = molly not tired and happy and jamming and kick ass.

little window

hello.
im home for 20.
work tonight 8 pm, to 8 am, work tomorrow 9.30.
vroom vroom. i have so much to tell you.

in Him

Here is a post that I saved as draft for much too long. but here it was, is.

this is awesome, the way you guys hold me up.
Today after Kick boe, or at the end when we gently stretch, after causing havoc with the tech beat, he played Ben Harper. It went "I'm blessed, I am blessed, I am blessed to be a witness."
And i am, i am so blessed to be a witness. i'm so blessed to have Christ in me. i'm so blessed to have you guys, and feel so knitted in this new way in the body. all this outpouring! and honoring! and throwing things up!
"the oatmeal is ready!" camille shouts. we are broke. we have oatmeal!
. . . Hallelujah, i found a cookie in the fridge (nonwheat for sensitive me) from last week. it was perfect, a little something something with the oatmeal.
i got in touch with my masculine and feminin side tonight. i did kick boe, which felt like it was kicking

getting the camel to drink

hanna said something that really struck me.
i feel so much where's she's at. she's going to VFC, though she's not a christian, she's being pulled her heart. i was going to VFC for 4 months before I believed. and churches / groups for years before that.
she's even around this black ministry, starting to work in oakland with them ovet the teen homicide issue. what a warrior she is! she's disgruntled by many valid christian issues.
but she wants it, she wants it so badly, but it's not there yet, its not confirmed. And nothing can force it. she said this:
I"m like a camel, and i've been led to the water. Everything you've all said and shown has gotten me to take myself to the water. but i can't drink. i don't know why i can't drink, but i can't drink, and you can't make me drink. you can lead a camel to the water but you can't make it drink the water."
She nailed it. and it's true, and you can share your testimony, and i did and brad did and even Gracey smiled and made little splats of drool-cute-baby affirmations, but you can't tell anyone how or direct them. you can give little advice, but somuch of it seems inappropriate, "just ask" or whatever else. the drink it's in their hands and mouths to take. oh blessed sister! i hold you up! and my blessed mom, she wants it so badly, she says to me so proud of me "maybe it will happen to me too someday" she goes to the FR's church, the gospel church in Marin here and there, and she claps and likes the songs, and shakes everyone's hands. and i just tell her to ask it in. i wish God would just come come come soon for all my girls.
so i ask you my bloggettes, how do you get the camel to drink?

helping each other out

being a follower of Christ really enables you to help other people. Helping others IS the thrust of being a Christian. I can't think of any other spirituality that i know of that really makes such an effort to help people. When i went to school in Portland I used to go to a Buddhist group. We'd meet to sit, or meditate, for an hour everyweek. We'd sit and each week try to come a little closer to being "present" and quieting the mind. One was to notice when the mind wandered, and try to bring it back to the present room, the humming of the loud machine, or the temperature, or whatever one could concentrate on. it was empowering us to remain in ourselves, to get the mind in a rhythmic space where one let's say if one could concentrate on one's breath for long enough they would leave feeling much clearer. well, i don't know why i'm going off about this, i don't think i have the brain concentration right now to analyze this but i do want to say to a degree, this practice is really about being obsessed with oneself, yoga is similar to that, both are striving for one's own enlightnment, one's own healing. but we begin to feel sorry for ourselves, and we could spend a lifetime processing our wounds and opening our blockages or whatever. but how instant is the healing i've found in the Spirit. It just takes it all away and you don't have to process it. but back to helping others, we also are called to not dwell on ourselves, to get busy helping the needy and poor. this really strikes me.

I went to see Rob Brezny at Gateways speak. He is one of my favorite writers, his is an astrologer, he has a column in the metro, but what i like about his column is what he does is compose this megalittle operas, for each sign, these referrential sparky run-ons. that is less about astrolgy (though it is based in astrology and the themes for each sign) and more about these imaginative departures, propel us to be bold in our character. The rambunctious spirit of his words get me going like check below is an archive for Pisces:

"Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes," says "Dilbert" cartoonist Scott Adams. "Art is knowing which ones to keep." According to my analysis of the astrological omens, Pisces, August was your time to embody the first part of Adams' formula. During these past few weeks, I hope you gave yourself permission to unleash many fertile booboos. September, on the other hand, should be devoted to carrying out Adams' second proposal. Which of August's missteps might have marked the raw, imperfect appearance of ideas that will eventually turn out to be useful and brilliant?"

His writing reminds me of Tom Robbins.
So I went to see him at Gateways and I felt sick. He went on and on in his fiesty way making up this prayer using "om, hallelujah, more power to you!" over and over agian. and calling on the "goddess" in the Spiritual-political crappy way. the kind of person that says "oh my goddess" because they are all fed up with "the man" or whatever. i'm down to be political but let's give to Ceaser what is Ceaser people! your religion is not your God! anyway people were all praying somewhat seriously to his bs. and it's weird b/c they're praying, but they don't REALLY believe in that entity, it's almost like it's all a joke. or its all about having some sexy feminist-accessible depiction of God. they say "The Goddess" like they're so much smarter than you and it was all about being creative and rambunctious in whatever way you want b/c the goddess will bless you and give you whatever you want. it was a little too me-hungry mixed with "let's get those mean christians when there frigid rules!" and "just pray for whatever you want, you'll get it," i wanted to stand up and say "hey! what gives you the gold to bad mouth christians, do you know one christian?" i also found his eyes to be dark, like i couldn't see in them. like greyness, not in color but something else. and i kept thinking about what the JC says about people's eyes. i walked out within 9 minutes.
and i've been thinking about how self-obsessed all that is. I study astrology, i still study astrology, it is like a much more detailed psychology personalilty test. it tells one where in one area they may be bold or firey, and in another, tehy make have deep issues. but it's important for me not to get obsessed with it, and not to focus on myself. it helps me understand others, and have compassion for people. For instance there's this one girl in my class who has double scorpio and Leo, and shes verry abrasive and at times strikes me as immature, though she is a mother of four. she is obsessed with herself, and her wounds, and trama. she doesn't listen well, and i lose patience. but astrology helps me have more keen awareness for the type of person she is. she if triple fixed, that means definately stuck in her ways, intent on the way she does things, and leo, yikes don't get a leo upset. and then scorpios would hold on to things. it is this inexaustable layering of understanding the way people tick and move. now now
i want to say however that Christ, christ, is this Source., like he lets me really love her. i can understand her with the astro science, but he gives me the power of love. sorry is this too cheezy, like back to the future style?
really i find a bottomless well of love through jesus for the people that i wouldn't easily love. and i feel more strong with christians than any group before, like i can sense that i'm really sisters with these people. it IS really hardcore and tight being in the Body together.

aye

i just wrote a post a mile long and then the user asked for my password, and then the post was gone.

i suck

here i goofed it all up. i was way emotional for that phone call , which i'm sure he didn't like. but was i so bad? i mean i had an edge, and i said many things, in fact i wasn't just upset or whiny or mad, you couldn't classify me as any of these things. i was in disbelief, i was in shock. but i created shock. i'm so lame, why am i so lame? some would say "if he were into you he would have called or called after the fact" but i don't think so , i think i could have just totally loosed up this fragile thing, i think i smashed it. i wrote the day that i flipped out, on my wall, on the cardboard on my wall where i write things. i wrote "I had to smash it." and that's what happened in that moment. i had to go head into this terrible feeling that feeling of being stranded and confront him. i read it all wrong to mean he was totally dissing me when he was just spaced out. which is still not a good thing, but it was way less Deliberate than i thought. it's hard for me to tell if this was a God thing or not. i mean, he had a lot of the specific things i had prayed for. i would have been so willing to check things out with him, to try with this person though he was a little rough around the edges, but that didn't scare me. i scared him away! oh no i'm such a freak.
i bet he thinks i was assuming all this belonging, i think i was just as skeptical as he was, its just that that whole not calling thing really rubbed me the wrong way this time, really insulted me. i have learned to do those things one is supposed to do and wait.
when i look back on my first post, i see that I wrote about how i liked that "he was so there, when i turn around he's just there." and i got this in presence reassurance and support and backing. why did that all go away, so far away in the week that stretched? he went from warm and surrounding to cold, out , peace. he probably just got all into his thing, his work mode in san mateo where he works. but to me it speaks what Carey said on "Sex and the City" it said to me, once again, "he's just not that into you." and i tell you, i'm used to that, and it kinda sucks. it's this saggy useless undesirable blah feeling.
And why am i not demanding someone who is capable of responding? i don't need a four day delay, the president already did that last week. i need someone who just checks in. who has some window of remembering. but maybe i was, in fact i'm sure i was way too hard on him.

after my 219

after my 219 homegroup, i was hit by chapter 15. it talked about going all the way, even hating (rejecting) your parents, your sister, your brother. mostly for me it spoke to going all the way for Him. Bearing your cross. And it hit me, that's it. The D is not worth it on any scale, let him be a sacrifice for my Greatest Love. somewhere in that 48 hours of wooing and romance, i was already trying to figure out how to sort of fit him into an ok path for me, i was thinking of how he could soothe me in this way and that, i was explaining to myself that it was ok and would be healing. but now i realize that there is so much more to be exhilerated about when i give it to the true Man.
so i admitted to myself that there is a true need to really let nothing stop me. to create my life so i can be closest to the Lord. to not let them dampen that anywhere.
i'm still really sad about it all.
sometimes i feel like it's all my fault, and who knows, he may have been a cool guy, but i just goofed so badly the little delicate communication. but then part of me thinks if he really liked me he would let me rain/reighn a little bit and a man for me would insist on me!
especially he could have returned my call after i called him the second time rationally and calmly. or maybe i just seem like a freak to him. but hey i got fiesty, and that's part of me.
but as my roomie Tibi says "Rejection is God's protection." maybe.

so gang

so gang, i'm feeling a little clearer.
i don't think i'll ever hear from dude again. i'm sad. it's probably good thing, i saw so many red flags that i could have been a cheerleader. oh well, i feel like a blundered, but when i called him up (the D) i was real, i wasn't going to take any crap. and my freak out, it was my own, i owned it.
i'm losing my words, i'm so tired.
i did kickbo today, i can't believe i almost skipped it. as always it blasted me. i feel so much better. i love my instructor michael. he doesn't talk or explain or walk people through. he just pushes us. comon! comon! (but not in an annoying way, in the most empowering way) we'll be doing some 3 part sequence and then we'll go triple speed, and it's wild. we used weights today, my triceps hurt in the best way.
i've gotten good at the side kick., and holding my leg up, just holding it up to the side for like a minute, which is much more hardcore then you think. men never make it in the class. for some reason. i think they get intimidated. they can't do the multi-sequences. and michael just gets us to pow it, i mean he'll make us kick our left leg for 10 sets without switching, and then do it behind, and then go triple speed. i don't know why guys don't come. there are two guys that come, i really think its because they can't deal with the sequences though the moves are quite challenging.
so we take over, and he doesn't coy with us he just tells us to go. and the class goes off to this electro techno hardcore music, and I jab - hook - punch -kick jab hook punch kick back. then kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick kick, kick

oh man

why do I go like this? how could they lavish such affection on me and then refrain for over a week in calling me. i called the d, and blew up, i knew i shouldn't have. but i had to, i had to when i came home on friday and saw again the no message, i was shocked. i felt like i was slapped in my face. i flipped out. so, so instead of waiting, and then saying something coy, or saying something cool, or acting like i never noticed (anything to give me the slightest gain in the situation) no instead of anything like that, i had to call, to get control of the situation, so i called him in my disbelief, told him how i wanted to throw up, told him how dare he lie to me, all this. (I don't usually do this kind of move, but it just rubbed me so wrong this time.)
he just sat there in disbelief, saying typical guy stuff, like "what?" and i know from his end i must look totally psycho, freaking out b/c he didn't call me for two days, though he said we would go out this weekend, so i took his word, but then he tells me, "we never made plans." so he's sitting there on the phone and i knew i had gone too far. here i was just weighing all these actions like they were signals, or power trips, when really they were just some forgetful dude-acts. how uncaring. everyday that goes by i feel that "I don't care about you" thing setting in or "you're worthless" and i vasillate between actually feeling that way to just total disgust for this person, to "oh, i guess i should expect this, that this is the game?!"
I later called him and left a calm message on his machine explaining that i reacted strongly, that i think it was inconsiderate for him not to call when he said he would call, but that the way i reacted was my stuff. He never returned my call, he probably will never call me. that would make me sad. but common', i'm not asking for much, just a call, at some point. i shouldn't have to be made to feel so unsure about anywhere we're at. i shouldn't have to sit here for plus seven days picking my nose and thinking i'm completely unnnecessary. and it blows my mind b/c he was just so serving me last weekend. he was on my beacon call, like i couldn't handle it. he was so there for me. and now he is out of range.

i still think that to anyone it would be a disrespect to do that, especially being that he was so into me last weekend, he lavished such affection and support. he seemed so down.
now he is showing that he's just not that into me. i abhor this message. i am tired of it. i get it all the time from people. i am losing patience. i want someone who is stoked for me. who shows up.
and gosh, who can blame me, that affection and sweetness reached me so deeply last weekend. all these banners lifted and i felt so doted on. i mean i kept my edge and my eye open but we got so into each other. . . .
???

hardly

look at me, am i this pathetic or loserish? no! no! i declare, why do i get so suddenly. so easily, fixed upon this person, why is their noncalling so consequential. am i made up of them? no not at all. do they get to me deeply yet? no, so why do i pretend? its like i make the deep for them. i'm pathetic. the disconcerning thing to me is how easily someone (here somebody I hardly know) can wreck such havoc upon me--can leave me feeling so incapable)
i'm worse than a charles schulz comic. see how this seizes me, these feelings of possible love and all that.
i'm done now.

Of course

Of course this dude has not called, though i called him up, feeling high and mighty and brave this afternoon, and lighthearted even, i guess i felt capable. so i called, he called back on his way home from work, said he'd call me up tonight. so he hasn't and i had the feeling he wouldn't. . . and why do i feel so lame? i don't care, i'm pissed, and i don't like being on hold, and maybe i'm taking things much too hard, but that's my experience and gut. this is all a devicive player thing and i 'm over it. i don't like being on hold. am i comprimising myself? or am i just psycho?

the simmer

Now is like the eye of a storm. all has gotten quiet. i feel like i'm in a whole new land: a whole new arena.
The waiting. This feeling of being stranded.

It's hard for me because it's my nature to be daring, to show-up, to shake a person up, to call this person up and hang, but i'm not supposed to at this juncture. but i can't. i feel so disabled. But i know how easy it is for a gal to register as easy or available or readily taken. so i'm gonna stay kaputt.

I've been so ready, and i think it's apparant when i'm around this person, that i'm willing to step up. so i'm trying to step back. He seems sobering to me, for me. what i like is that he seems so ready, how i turn around and he's there.
i want this so bad that my heart aches. (sorry for the mush).

any advice on how a gal can stay powered, it's gotta be more than "just stay busy." how can a gal keep?

I feel the need to share a poem with you, my bloggettes.
I wrote this poem back in 2003 for my next love, my ultimate love. this poem is very me. i like this poem a lot, and when i was writing it, it just came out. it's about the only poem that just came out without my editing, reediting, reconstructing, stripping down, clarifying, verifying, returning to the theme, massaging, or giving any more clues to my readers. like it existed somwhere, and it came out like it's own thing. it's my testimony. it's been ready. This is how it goes:


I am the Conductor Here

If you want
to reassure me
then get on my train.
I'll Conduct symphonies
of you through my smokestacks
if you can holler,
and the mountains
will get it.
I will take you the long way there.
Just begin where I am bashful--
the long tunnels I go under,
close your eyes with me.
I will show you my invincible hands,
We will be pleading to each other,
and it will go something like
the train-tracks' thunder.

Arrival

A man has arrived.
(exclamation marks omitted).

from San Francisco

Title: From San Francisco
Story: I'm in the San Francisco. I'm over going out and everywhere we went was dissapointing, tru that we went to the same section, the section we always go to: the Mission and 19th, Valencia and 23rd. went to the beauty bar again where they have the remnants of a beauty salon complete with the hair blow dryers and sometimes people doing nails on little desks in the corners. they always have great 80s music and a packed crowd. but last night i was over it, we always go there. besides this whole day i was grumpy. this morning i was grumby and my friend from LA Ambra and I went out to take these German girls around, we just met them ourselves but staying with my friend Sumi's landlady, so we offered it. i was proud to be the tour guide, i had my hand on which bus to take, which hill to climb which corner to turn. we went across the mission through noe valley hopped on the 24 and got off at castro last morning. amber wanted a bloody mary. we stopped at a gay bar in the castro with fabulous wood details and had bloody marys. i was still in a bad mood. we went back to the bus stop and i mention my sore state to ambra. "Snap out of it!" she commands. "no way!" I love this girl. she starts laughing. "Close your eyes." she instructs me. "No way!" i refuse again. I wanted to be left alone in my, my --whateverness. "fine." i finally concur. I close my eyes, under the little bus stop at the heaight. open my eyes a sec later and Ambra's boob is 1 inch from my eye -- i mean her tit was right in my face! i bust out laughing, she's such a soldier for me. Girl does that in the middle of the haight right in my face. i got up and shouted and busted out. that's how she goes she does what she wants and has no time to get all pouty like i do and bummed out. well, needless to say i felt much better for a time after that. the rest of the day included an overkill on haight i didn't buy anything bu ti looked at too many things and just wanted to crawl away by the end. i found myself judging these girls we were with yesterday from Germany and one was from North Carolina. i really don't like myself when i do that. i' was judging thm for their rich apparal. then i was getting depressed. then i was feeling awful about myself. then i was judging them to be shallow, then i didn't want to be around them b/cc they didn't know me and i not them, and i was feeling all weird how much we weren't invested in each other. then i felt alone. then i missed Sumi (who was at work) then i hated myself. then i felt cool b/c i knew where to go. then i felt sad, then i felt incapable, then i felt dishelved b/c i was no where near as fabulous as they were, then they went on and on about Diesel jeans and complaining about how small they run, and gosh, it just went on and on. Todyay Sumi and I are going to go to a different section, we're going to try lower Sf by SF state. i love how willing we are with eaach other, i mean willing to be there for each other, and flexible to do what the other needs. we are very honest and like to talk and talk and analyze what are problems are or why we are fixated in others the way we are, and continally discover what it is we need to work on and how we need to get over boys, and how it's all like a 6th grade mentality, and then we realize all the internal places we fold, and where we need to be strong, we realize where we are vulnerable. but then we simultaneously get all depressed about it. our affirmations there hard to get under our bones and we come back to the same lapses.

How Kind

How kind are you Lord
i just watched my Baptism Tape for the first time with Erin. I saw myself, and on the bottom of the screen in sepia could see my family holding me afterwards. How much I could cry for this. how much the whole sermon was for me, it was so spunky with a School of Rock clippings, and the rock band. How annointed was the singing and the woman on the piano she led and she was so in awe of the spirit. she spoke of being authentic, how we get to come authentically. I got to watch the faces, and even the NB next to me his eyes went up and he was taken too, and then looking beamingly, or nodding when i said the capital M part, like "oh yeah." like this is so good. he was happy. i looked happy when i stopped speaking. i was shaky when i spoke in a way i liked watching. my words sounded scratchy like the theme of all i said concerning my sore space i came from of incapablity, my voice was like that. so i think that was all part of it.
and i could see my mother's back when everyone circled me, she was leaning in, that shape i know so well, and my sister holding me behind. everyone so given to me. everyone so taken in the spirit, it was so much love that night i could hardly hold it, i could hardly feel it all. everyone was brought there. my heart was so happy.
i am so thankful and i'm somber right now to hold this, to hold this night again and say wow, this is real, here i started, i think that night was really made by god. even in the details that the tape got my family, In the perfect place. i can see them too watching now.

The women in the Bible (Truly!)

Dorothy Sayers puts it well with her reflection onhow women are portrayed in the bible. and this is very true. my
whoamans check this out:

"Perhaps it is no wonder that the women were first at the Cradle and last at the Cross. They had never know a man like this Man--there never has been such another. A prophet and teacher who never nagged them, never flattered or coaxed or patronized; who never made arch jokes about them, never treated them as "The women, God help us!" or "The ladies, God bless them!"; who rebuked with querulousness and praised without condescension; who took their questions and arguments seriously; who never mapped out their sphere for them, never urged them to be feminine or jeered at them for being female; who had no axe to grind and no uneasy male dignity to defend; who took them as he found them and was completely unselfconscious. There is no act, no sermon, no parable that borrows its pungency from female perversity; nobody could possibly guess from the words and deeds of jesus that there was anything "funny" about woman's nature."

Praise!

next up

i'm putting on the next song, female dj represent, it's "getting hot in here" nelly. here we go.. . . .
whoa. . . . . Aaron is playing a Mash-up he constructeed. .. he mixed 50 cent with Dianna Ross's "Upside down, boy you turn me" It's Dope!

it's 3 am.

it's 3 am, Aaron, why did you just play "I will survive?" we are damcing in the back house of 327 market with anu and aaron, and aaron is playing cheezy , ok it just got better, back street boys,. . . . . . .gotta danc4e. . ... back, we went to a dive bar called callahans just a few blocks, this is a dive bar, equipped with aerosmith and ACDC and "California knows how to party" i went in the bathroom and the bartender was there too and I said "up or down?" reffering to my hair, and she said, just part it to the side. so I did, and my hair swooped lopsided to the right which was oh so sexy.
Now "She's a brick house" is playing. OK! At Callahans there was pool with race-car-shaded lamps, there was cigarrette smoking, and 3 lemon-drops later plus one margarita i was still at it. for some reason the pair of guys with us each kept getting rounds of lemon drops. the lady bartender, who is awesome, so down, yet with a princess crown, no nonsense (simulatanously--this is my kind of whoaman!) she said, baffled to their lemon drop request made by the fellas, said "OK, i'll make you manly lemondrops." so she made put the lemondrops in somewhat more sturdy cups, so i guess they became more manly. all i know is i'm djing somewhat with my neighbors, my DJ friend Aaron, then Anu my homegirl, with limewire which is the best i can do, no turntables for now, no KZSC, but this is awesome, we're dancing, i'm with Anu my homegirl, in the backpart of 327, wife of Aaron, she wears the pants in the family, we bond. she tells it like it is. i guess that's what i'm doing right now. telling ya'll like it is. so at callahans were motorbikers and girls with tall hair, what a scene. now ghetto hiphop songs i'm 15 again. . . . dopo.

Done.

I was sitting in the Fairfix cafe in Fairfax with my Godma. And I had a blessed moment. I was telling her about the X, I poured to her the shame of the last relationship, and the destruction, (it lingers and comes and goes) but this time i didn't feel the scarry stuff in my back,
only this time a Little Girl came right up to me at the couch at Fairfix. She came boldly around the coffee table that tucked us off to the side. She came right up to me. I turned and she was just standing there blinking at me. She was so present. She was a little one, could hardly walk, she was standing there jsut staring at me, her eyes prominent, almost blazing, somewhat curious, but knowing, that was her stance, like she was fully allowed, like she was telling me, "yes yes you are healed. you are absolutely healed, you are like me, you are like me now. I know." IT was almost like God Himself was trotting up to us, running up to us. She went back to her Dad, then came back just a minute later, as if to say r"eally, really you are OK". her stance was like here I am and sweetly there. As if to say, "It is all over," "YOu are healed" Thankyou Lord for taking away the process, to the steps and steps of observing and dealing, to the mostly there, somewhat there, to all that processing. I don't have to process that anymore, or relate to it. I'm dead to it.
I'm dead to that kind of evil in my life. God told me I'm done. [with that], and I can just be glad, and i don't have to figure it out anymore or make myself somehow "stronger than that" or "clear" It took my Godma to tell me to really look in my face and tell me so knowingly and clearly and surely that I'm healed and then it hit me.

tonight

my belly dancing teacher says i'm very focused when i'm working. she said,

"whoa, you're like this magnet behind me, your eyes!" and i'm so honored because it's my second class, on my first class she said, "wow, you're really good, you're picking it all up. we're doing hard moves." but it made perfect sense to me and my body was so happy and my eyes are daggering at the mirror--how could they stop stinging? They were talking to my body, and they could once be as definitive as my body was returning to my primal nature. nd everything takes off and i got to be this tiger. Everything is circles in belly dancing. The hips lifting, then packing down, figure 8s. pushing one part of body this way, other part that way. and my body likes it and knows it. i feel like i'm stamping myself, like i'm fully allowed to be in my body and confirming myself.
what a place it's a place where the women soar, where the women's gifts, our gold, can come pouring out, and it really intimidates men, a good bellydancer, i've seen them in restaurants, and men don't know quite what to do.
yes but it's these calming and intricate, slow and subtle or beating moves that only a woman can do and its incredibly mystifying--these big swipes with our hips. how severe. what a deadly power what a complete power that we women have to have these rounds to our body that can utter such undulations, how we can reach with our suppleness. what a place, a form of dance, where we can retain, retain our power, where though they may watch, they cannot even touch the essence, cannot take us like objects in their voyeristic vandilism. This belly dancing how stinging and raw, and elegant and untouchable. how breathtaking in my body that my arms and legs and belly and back knew (in dim ways) the motions: the places to press, to wave, to dig.

a post in mind

I have a wonderful post in mind, but I find myself nauseated all day and weak. i'm such a baby. but hey, i really can't deal when i get sick, am feeling a little more together. am working on a poem that makes me happy. and i've almost read completely a book, "Why not women?" about the misconceptions and conceptions of women's role in the bible. I am relieved. I'm not mad at Paul anymore. Details next up.

how dare that

Let me just say I am mad. I am writing this poem where I take bits of the bible and piece them together, so I'm breezing through just a couple verses of every chapter, i'm getting this cross-section. I was just reading 1 Cor., the letter from Paul, was finding it interesting Paul's discussion, encouragement of Prophecy along with interpretation, talking in tongues, etc. He says to belike an infant in regard to evil, so innocent in our reaction away from and recognition of evil, ok, ok, I read on, and then he busts out with "women should rermain silent in the churches. They are NOT allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the Law says. If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it si disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church." and then he drops this discussion and moves on. Great just Great. This is infuriating. Let me be like an infant. This is an evil statement that really hurts me. What a disgraceful thing to say about women. what a confused thing.

This is why I don't think it makes sense to say that every word in here is the pure instructions of God, hello, there are personalities, and views, there is a civilization here. Paul is a person, and his views and ideas are coming out along with God's lets say. Paul is speaking from his times. i can forgive him for his naiiveness. but i couldn't forgive God if this was a direct statement from God, but I don't think it is. Paul is not the direct representation of God, only God is the complete representation of God. So Paul missing target is expected for me. so what do you say out there? What do you make of this, men? my whoamens?
But the big bummer, and the big question now, after he says a thing like that is
How am I to trust Paul now?

The Fifth Cast

My Godma gave me this amazing story she heard on the radio.
A man was fishing with his grown son in a river, and they were trying to bond themselves, and have some praising-God kind of day. But the day went on and they were getting no bites, they were catching no fish, so I imagine it was a somewhat irritating day. Finally the son says "let's go" and the father says, "OK, but let's just throw 5 more casts." So they do, and on the fifth cast they catch a big fish. And the father says this, that This is the God of the Fifth Cast.
Yes, I love this, because this God is all about timing, and He will give you things when he wants, He will make you wait, but He will deliver to you. He will bring you the fifth cast.

If it is glowing

I really like how my Godma put it, how to decipher if something is right or wrong for you, of how to know what is "good" to do for yrself. (I still am reluctant to get so obsessed with this "sin" thing, it is not how I like to view things anyway and it feels icky to me. I'm really not concentrating on these kinds of statements. I think that God does pay attention, but I think that God is smarter than having a simple set of evils for humankind, like I believe he will stir-up a life for you that really is made to teach you and well, i believe He knows your language, so he will give you stuff, people, relationships that you are akin to. I'm not down with people trying to Script for God some set of rules. like Christians who do not touch alcohol, if you don't want to drink anything that would poision you than I suggest giving up coffee also, Coffee if drunk to much will shut down your little adrenals. If you write off one thing, alcohol, than you must write off coffee too). so there.

But I do believe in listening to what God wants you be doing. And to tell what is good or not good for You, I think one can sense by if it is glowing, how you can just sense that somethings glow and somethings don't. More and more I'm sensing that, I'll be in a place, and its just not glowing. Objects literally seem to just sit there, as objects. The first time I went under, the first time on March 13th, when the light poured into me, when the spring came up in me and before I knew it it was all through me, and it was this amazing total condition, well when I opened my eyes at the end of the service, I was stunned because everything was glowing, there was Camille and the Contessa in front of me, and their bodies, their beings just jumped out, were so crisp, lined with this stunning definition. and everything had this light. and when i go under, still, these days, with some sincere and long prayer, and i open my eyes, everything gets that glow on.

with spurs on

All I can say is that something about having Christ means that I have spurs on,
I have spurs on.
I am not coming to town. This is not about my mosey or my words to you, if you put your hands up at my draw. Nope. But if you would look below, you would see that I have spurs on.

Tokens of God

I am inspired by my Godma's nearly finished story she has written, the letter of her coming to Christ as a Jew, as an artist. I am enthralled by her project. I must trace my history with God, here starts the story of how I once followed God's magnificence. Here is blog 1.

I have always been an admirer for the cleverness of God. I used to find God in tokens, and I’d smile at how these tokens were so cleverly handed to me—-
these little presents made especially for me to unwrap and cleave to: a saying, words uttered by a stranger that resonated some truth for me, even favorite numbers, or the surprising familiarity of my Pisces bit in the horoscopes of the Metro paper, or in an elaborate picture with a small spot that encapsulated me, even the winds at times—-the way trees swayed in June when Amma came to town, like God was just saying Hello. God knew how to throw me a rope to tug on, God knew how to inspire me. I was a witness to the beauty of God. I could see God ringing.

Part of the fun I had with God was translating how some small event was a message from God. I took these symbols and I mounted on them. I wondered what mischief God would send me next.

They came like flashes. They were nifty at most, but deep to Miss Me. The metaphors in my Poet head kept rolling and I still have piles of symbols that God scribbled my way. I did my best and collected these moments like charms, I'd wear them like a bracelet and I'd take God with me making all kinds of clangs as I tromped around on my Molly adventures.

I guess my overall sense of God was episodal. God was saying "I see you" in small and lovely ways. But on one hand, it was pretty voyeristic. I'd smile, I'd drift on, or maybe God would drift on. Because that was it: I'd feel a little special, a little seen. God was watching me but not doing anything to really be with me. And I'd collapse as always in hard times.

God was showing up but then saying "Later dude."

And then on the other hand, I had this uncontainable "Oh My God!" to be in the magnificent surroundings of God, like something grand and special was constantly happening, and I got to be the star of this grand opera.

To be Continued. . . .

Just there.

Something about Jesus, fits in an empty room, with nothing on the walls or decor, nothing fancy. it is so simple and there. Jesus in the room with you. there's a window, there's this blank room, and jesus is just there.

I have a basket

I have a basket filled with packages for patients, it's the Sally basket today. Three packages for three different Sally's, including my mom. i love my patients. i am their receptionist, their nurse. i'm going to go to the post box today by six to get them their meds.

My loved ones.

My loved ones are getting hurt.
My mother fell and broke her rib. She didn't call me, only wrote me 4 days later afraid to bother me. I pray for my mama. the FR is in the hospital, not doing well. maybe his diabeties. I pray for the dear man. And his holy book I'm writing. A person in my class is fighting breast cancer, doing her own natural treatments, it may have masticized. She got the news in class and was holding back her tears. she is so strong, like a horse. i know she got more news today. I pray.
i pray for all my loved ones. i love you all so much. I pray for you. I pray for Camille in Cambodia.

The J.ist

I got the J-ist package yesterday. My J-ing sent me a package, and this is just the precursor the birthday present she announced. she is amazing like that. she sent me the Garden STate which we both adore. I'm not sure if she rmembered our conversation about it, how it is really the best movie for people exactly at our stage, at our age, this midtwenty thing. I love how the ending doesn't make sense, how he's bout to go, and he should, and thats the thing to do, but he storms back and then he says he just needs her, he needs her along. how it's a good thing and he can't deny that. it's her.
*sigh* i wish i had that.
I was really taken and touched by my J-ing telling me she reads my blog. I had no idear. I just want to say that I just warshed my sheets.
I can just imagine her bustling, right now. she is so good at this ceaseless working, and she had such a good attitude. I go back and forth from holding that sense, sometimes i just feel faint. she writes of her husband, and the choices she makes, and the importance of importance. it's incredible to imagine how real she is in her life. how true. i say true dat. It is like she is weaving this incredibly dense blanket with her own hands.
here I am all unraveled. I wish I could witness more of her life and testify of her noble things, I wish I could have myself a rum and coke with her. I guess its that I know how good she's doing, and I believe in her and her man but i I wish i could get closer to the batch of unimportant times. indeed.

yeah to Shoes and much more

Yeah to my mama who gave me so many nice tings the last time I saw her. she lavishes me with all these little or old or useful things. like Talcom Powder (per my request to remove some troubled oil spots from my pants) and the leather briefcase, which makes me feel as though all is taken care of as I walk my work around on my hip, yeah for the pink/redish table she gave me, yeah for the gatorade she gave me.
Yeah for the four pairs of shoes I bought and inherited this weekend. Some black strappy-ones, and white tall ones, this Receptionist is steppin. Then yeah to the very tall wooden platforms that the sweet Lesbian couple gave me in berkeley, Greene gave it to me. There is a store under the heel. They make me very tall and allow me for some very serious tromping. Now they are creeking when I walk which is somewhat distracting.
I had a very Berkeley experience on July 4th morning, I ate gourmet granola, I played horseshoes in the backyard, and got pretty good, preffering the bronze horseshoes to the silver. I had the yummiest shower with foot scrubs and other organic conditioners and highlight lifter bottles and then there was scrubby stuff. I played in the backyard which was sweetly sunny in a way that only Berkeley could produce.
I had fresh basil, I ate very little and was full. i dashed away to the city, to the haight to exchange my shoes since they were apparantly too tight as I stood about on them. I got parking within 3 minutes one block from Haight and Ashburry, i had a smoothe little trip right there.

I need some Joy

I need some joy. i'm just feeling it, i'm just going into an anxious space, a depressed space. i went back and forth today, like a battle, but i decided to leave berkeley, and my friend, to come back and work. but this is justified. of course i need to work. yet i'm so lonely right now. i always have the worse 4th of July and being alone working on the book is not helping. how do i stoop myself from turning over into this hard space in myself? well, the coffee and dried mango pieces are helping.

my attic open up

My period is here,
(all you Misters or scardees who don't want to hear of the whoaman's whoa click away.
My period. I'm so happy for my (.) b/c The last period I got was June, yes that's June 04' well there was one false bleed in January due to a fast I was doing that seemed to kick in not just my Liver but my Uterus. It's amazing, it feels so amazing. It is like, finding a long lost friend, like walking through a very familiar park. It feels so good. my v is buzzing.
It is like putting your hand in a jar of dried rice and feeling that all-over sensation, that all-over-yes, with your hand covered on all sides by these rice pieces and you go in-and-out of feeling them one by one or feeling them all covering your hand. And you can dig your hand deeper and back but everywhere is satisfying.
It is like there was some closed-up attic, and now a window has open, and the sun is breaking in and it's so intense because the sun hasn't been there for awhile. And the atmosphere in the attic is stirring, the dust flying up, and you're coughing, but the sun drives in, like it was always meant to be there. The sun pours-in in this tangible way. The sun is heavy and falling like a continuous sheet, it's like a pedal, its pressing on you.
It is like the front of a ship, (what is that called?), the tip, that first cuts into the water. and the boat is going with a steady cadence, the water is meeting it so nicely and lapping by and the tip is the first to meet it.
It is coming up from a heavy and holding sea, it breaks up over the water like someone who has been trying to come up for air. and then all of a sudden they gasp. emerging from somewhere clenched and static.
My body down there feels like it is on to something, it feels like it is taking in. (that is what really is striking me, not the sensation of dropping or shedding, but that my body down there is taking in).
What I am noticing now is there is this whole experience, it is beyond a feeling or effect, it is a whole being taking place. My uterus is of its own doing right now.
In someways it is like Jesus (truly, though this sounds bizarre) like the Spirit. becuase i'm learning that Jesus isn't an essence or feeling, when the Spirit comes it is seperate than you but is totally whole and totally aaah to be in it and when it comes it is totally there, not just in a place, but this blanket covering the everywhere.
And my period right now is like this in that it is seperate but of me, it is rolling ou in its own way, and i'm at the top of it and oh so high and unbinding.

The Day before Dylan is born

The day before my Pastor's baby is born. Who knows what he will be or become, and i'm not even sure if he will be a Dillan, or a Dylan. My expression came up once again, to look at the child's chart, which right now is somewhat loose b/c the time is not exact, though with a C-section scheduled, we all know pretty darn close.
First I just want to say that I need to stop being so guilty for this gift I have, and it comes from such a love of people, and what it does not simplify what kind of person a person will be, but actually complicate and elaborate, more than any psychology or system that I know of . There are houses, and 11 planets each with their own signs, and there are all the angles, how the planets speak to each other, it shows there is a design, and the universe is not random. And it was the Wise men who followed the Stars to Jesus. Amen! I mean I have this unfathomable relationship with Jesus. By the way, In my soul, in my ness, I am now proud to be a Christian. I still don't go around announcing it, but I am so surrounded by it and in it.

Astrology for me is nothing of faith. It is a science, my senses see it, I can look at someone's face and know when they are a taurus, or if they are earth or air sign.
Astrology for me is a way of understanding people in their human element. It is seeing how messy and varied and why we may come off the way we do, why we may be pulled to behave in the ways we do.
Now Christ actually changes my capacity. Christ allows me to have this source of love for people, for others, anybody, even those I may not be fond of, because it comes from this deep source.
Well I just want to say Amen for Dylan, coming tommorow morning.
I am stunned that he, if born approximately the time as scheduled will be a Cancer Sun, Pisces Moon, and Leo Rising.
How Precious!
The weird thing is I'm a Pisces Sun, Cancer Moon, and Leo Rising. This is a trip. But even if i try to be a little unbias, I can say that Pisces and Cancer are both water signs and extremely sensitive, they work on more of an emotional plane. And pisces is a very artistic sign, though it can be moddy, and changeable, it is the two fishies.
Now Leo Rising, the Rising sign is kinda like what someone may notice first in you who doesn't know you all that well, in other words like you at a party. And this kid if Leo Rising, is exactly my sign. So check it,
leo is the Lion right, the king of the forest, so they dig their kingdom, and all that's in it. They are protective of their close ones, their family, their friends. And their pride is very important.
Anyone who knows me knows how much I like to be the center of Attention. And i'll go there, i'll the the MC or DJ, or read my poems in front of crowds. So there's my Leo, but its more on my rising sign, how I shine to others. The moon sign is the heart more, the emotions, our gut instincts. Mine is Cancer which is mothering, nurturing, likes isolation, has a little shell up, gets easily let down if people don't nurture me, yatta-yatta. So for anyone who knows me, they know i'm pretty emoitional, and as much as i'm all glowy when around people, I do get pretty sad frequently and sulky, but then my emotions change, especially when looked after by others, and nurtureed a little bit. but sometimes its just a lost cause, like i get down really easy or anxious, and my Leo, that's a part of me that just gets very strong and intense, that's my little roar, what gets me out of my water. that's when i get things done, or when i "know what I know, and want what I want", and strut off to get another coffee.

OK, I'm gonna stop now.

Yeah Naba! Yeah Dylan! Yeah Jen!
May God bless the deliverey!

Talking in Tongues

Just got back from a women's retreat on prayer with the women of the FR's gospel church. I spent a full day and a half with these eight Black women, sisters. Within 3 minutes of our first Let's praise and worship session, these sisters were talking in tongues. I mean, it was on, and at first I was just standing there "ok. . .. ." and then within five minutes the spirit of that room took me too, the spirit I should say, it was not of that room, it was the Holy spirit and it came rolling in and was so there , like a wall in front of me. And I felt as though I could walk anywhere, go to any part of the room, and it would be there. it spread out. it was all ever present.
One woman was talking in tongues and then spasms with this scream every minute or so. right away, she focused on me and prophetized something that was astounding, it had to do with how I would bring people to the Church, to the Spirit of Christ, I don't want to mention it exactly, except that I say that it was pretty right on me, on my potential, as my gadma and I had just been quiety conferring about a lightbulb idea I have.
So the women got to crying and shouting and putting hands on each other. . . . . instead of describing this, I am tempted to just tell you what I got from this.

The only way to love, without creating the love, and trying to conjure it out of your own capacity, is with Christ. LIke when I love from Christ, it is this huge unstoppable love, this real love, this love from a source, not just me saying, "ok, I guess" and loving this or that that I like, or that I recognize in a person. For instance, there were two women that were just rubbing me the wrong way, and i think mostly because i couldn't understand them, what they were doing exactly. But when the spirit was there so strong i couldn't help but feel this thing, becyond love, that made me with them, that made me belong to them, we were all in this heavy feeling of the spirit, and it was like we were all of the spirit.

Then this pain kept creeping up in my back that i have had, a bothered feeling really, somehting not of me, for the last year and a half. it is a remnant of abusive times when i think something really invaded me. And in panic I asked Sister Flo to help me. right away she did without any hesitation, she just dunked in, and put her hands on my back, then three other weomen joined. and then not only did I feel the disturbing thing gone, but I actually felt somethign new and fresh, and me and beginning there. but i still felt something going on in my lower back which they had missed, then sister, the one I was having trouble comprehending or dealing with somehow in my brain, well she just came all boldly and rubbed my back and called on Jesus and then that area felt so new and becoming and yes and alright, and mine again.

You may know where I'm going now but it was the Spirit and how strong, how strong that even with this person i had somewhat dismissed, that she could bring the spirit in me and make it all better, it was not her personaility it was the spirit, which seems to be the most forgiving and beautiful thing. To be continued/beginning. . .

Pinging

I'm back, I'm back online. I've been on the phone for 2 and a half hours with Linksys and Dell. The technicians kept telling me to ping this and ping that. And then I plugging in and out wires and fiddling with the box and viola! I'm back. Stay Tuned Readers. To Blog Continued. . . . .

June 13th continued

Today I have felt something new. Like i am sealed. not just this lift. but a seal. a wonderful seal. I'm always so open, people say. "ooh you're so open" they tell me when I give them a big stare. It's vulnerable, that's what I've been, taking in everything, un shileding, unprotected. going on anyone's. being present when I din't want to.
inviting obad ones*: ones that wanted to take from me what I had. I was almost spilling out before. and searching.
and i don't feel open in this way anymore. I feel like I'm in something. And I don't have to do the work to reject or protect or defend or take naymore. Like I"m in Christ. And it feels like it's never going to go away.
I feel untouchable.

June 13th, the dunk, and comin home frantic

I'm getting frantic again. I just tried to email the FR the passage at Kinkos and all this. There's a hint of trying to convince him, and I don't need to go there.Though at the last it was good once he got my email. i came home to find flowers Doug and Dena left for me, so happy aof my day yesterday My baptism. I'm so sad. so here I go in these kind of freaked out corners. I really want to be with someone and still regerent and in awe for this moment I had yesterday. My whole family togher. that's unthinkable! My mothers, my sisters, my dear ones. My girls from thecity and MARin. And afterwards they circled me and held me.
My sister would come up behind me and put her hands on my hips. And it was like she was squaring my hips, and she knew right where they were even before she touched me, like she really loved me right there and supported me like she was saying "i got your hips." which is way more than "your back" and she would smile so big at me. And supposedly my mom was crying really hard, it really moved her I could see even after she was so emotional. They all came around me afterwards and hugged me. My family, my friends, I couldn't believe it, they were all around me and loving me so. and Jesus was loving me. And I was really here with Jesus. It was so much love I could hardly take it. I think only God, only Christ could do that, bring all my loved ones together. I felt then like I could really forgive my mom,
The sermon was all about gifts, it was so perfect. the line about the whale and the fin. the movie clip from that Rock Movie. the musical metaphor, the Catholic school kids trying to rock out.
Josh found a really great scripture about how getting baptized is not about removing dirt, but coming to Christ with a clear consciousness. yes. Like now I want to give God that, my best, my good consciousness, like I want to create and stride in goodness. and goodness, wholeness, completeness, is not just some simple thing.
Here is to my new beginning. Here is to this assurance, this entirety that came, the whole thing came to me on March 13th. (I got the whole thing all at once and therre were no steps.) It feels like heaven in my heart.
just as we were leaving the Attic, we went there after and had the yummiest beet and goat cheeze salad, just as we were leaving, we stalled, then the Namba and the
the K-thang. we went to saturn, and two miracles, we had a NICE waitress at SAturn, OK breathe. and we sat at the Star Wars original movie table. so Princess Laya was right there under my thin fries. so now it's the thirteenth and that's my day, i'm born on the thirteenth (another month). so it's like home.
I liked the water, it was this soft warm, not very warm, but just so. and once it was over I swished around, I almost felt like the water was my friend. I remember stepping towards Rob when I got this nod. as he was coming close to baptizing me and he put his arm out a little bit, (he told me to put my arm there and then he would dunk me. And the dunk was gentle and fast but witha glide, not too fast. and under the water it was like coming into something. it was a woosh, it was like I entered something. (all this is subtle) and it was neat to be so soaked there for a minute.

I heard people hardly one time say "oh Yeah!" after i spoke. but my friends told me afterwards that lots of people were really responding to me, calling out, affirming, moved. people were crying. !!!!! And a couple people came up to me afterwards and thanked me, like I spoke something they were feeling. Wow this is like, this is like we are in this boat, like Christians are more in my boat than I deemed before. like not all perfect or glossy but just as in the lowsy sore state as i am, but feeling the Lord, yes feeling the Lord.. . . . to bed.
To be Continued.

when you hear my flo,

When you hear my flo, when you hear my flo, you gonna be on the floor, gonna get on the floor. My girl my sumi, my girl the sumi, she get around, she's on the bound,
I was feeling very bitter and anxious all week (and apparantly, I have heard reports of bitterness in the air, so I am not alone)
until my Sumi came. Then all weekend we rhymed words and played ro-sham-bo in cafes and my room and the kitchen. And then we made up a new version of ro-sham-bo which involved a tree and a street and a person. it was deep. And everytime we did a round we would crack up. We could do the same thing over and over again, and each time it would be astounding or hilarous or ridiculous and we would look at each other and bust out. And we made up the new ro-sham-bo somewhat based on her rebounding from her mugging last week, so we took the most violating thing and just played with it all weekend.
my girl my girl
she aint buff,
no she aint rough.
she aint bad, and she aint sad.
but still she won't be stopped.
oh, say!
she won't be gruffed,
she's walking down down the street street.
She's on her feet feet
She'll beat the street, she'll beat the tree.
She makes the blocks.
She cuts the path, yeah, she's ah-yight
and though the way is steep
she's ah-yight.
she keeps.
Amen. Sister.

Deep Thoughts with Sumi the Superest!

Broadcasting live from 327 Market heeerree's the Sumi! Heerrreeee's The Molly!
Sumi has the armor on, fabulous iron chain. She She rocks it out. She is my boom boom-make some noise-in the house-homegirl. She doesn't want to say nuthin. She's out.
I got her back, she got me, from here to the next block.
We slammed! Everybody loved my Pope Slam. Giovanni's Steppin'! The Pope was Dope! He's got the Pope-mobile. He's going around. The bullet-proof Popemobile! The Pope is dope! Watch-out.
Sumi layed it down, her poem went around, it tied it all up. She fed us someting. She got the word in the house. i heard it, I heard it.
S: don't kick that to the curb, its not for the birds its for you, my True.
M: True dat!
S: Just like the slugging Catepillar on the ground, they be flying in the sky, next when they got the butterfly.
M: The Butterfly's gonna get you. Get your own roof.
S: Don't be mean.
M: yah meanies, watch the meanies.
S: mean ain't clean?
M: Why you gotta be mean?
S: You don't gotta be mean, you don't be nice: you gotta be something in-between.
S: errrr-aaaaaa-errrrrr (scratch, scratch), chchchchch.

It's 11:11 my friend is moving to the big city

There is nothing like a friend, and 11:11. MY T-pedal. The one who pushes my pedal and I can go, and an adventure is underway. And such good companionship. One who believes in me. One who will stir things up. I want to go bounding with her and tonight a paper has her to the throat, she is getting at it eye to eye. I say "Vai, Vai the -T-pedal." And i send her strength and mojomind-fillet to cook up her paper/ I have such flutters because she is going onward to San Francisco. All so perfect and i'm enthused, but still these flutters because i wonder what I'm to do with myself. I have the tendency to take myself and my endeavors way way serious. to get very hard on myself and hopeless, I go to this flat land in the palette of my mind. trying to take everything as function. And she comes and is digging on something, she is ready to give it up to the times ahead. And then we go and make some happening or hefty episode that makes you wanna say "Absolutely!" with a dangerous smile. she laughs or rolls her eyes when I strut. and she knows just what's going on. or she lets me get all bothered and she gives me a squeeze but lets me do my bothered thing. I will miss going to her place right here in town and laying it on her. I will miss romping with her and those simple run-ins. caught dead-centered smack in town. I will miss reading our mutual "Cancer" moon sign reports from Brenzky against her desire. I will miss thrilling with her. Man! i know she's only moving to the city, but i love having this stomping ground too meet her and make madness. i hope i hope we keep a constant from city to sc. I think that only we could devise creative ways to nail each other from afar with you! (in my natashan spirit) that just make you tingle. I think she will continue to get my pedal, push my pedal, make me take off in ways I could hardly imagine. I think we help each other conquer.

My Liver

Tonight my Liver hurts.
I'm freaked out about my Liver. Tonight the third person told me they think that somethings going on with my Liver. He said I'm looking yellow. And I don't want to get into the rest. And then I did some work on it and now it is hurting, i mean really hurting. and I was born yellow. It's ironic because just this week some blood work came back for one of our patients. She has elevated liver enzymes which probably means she has Hepatitis B or C. She did n't want to do a Hepatitis panel, and we practically had to made her. But she's going to do it, i'm so glad.
It's quite odd how these symptoms come in floods. *Gden got a bladder infection, which turned into a Kidney infection. And in the last two days, after she came in 6 or 7 patients have called in with bladder infections, and another patient now has a kidney infection. Are patients are all going through the same things at once. And now everyother patient I talk to is getting their period. Even in different towns (Santa Cruz, Monterey, Big Sur). Somehow the association can even spring this downpour of shared stuff. This is showing me that people in circles really do chime together.

Your girl receptionist

Your girl-receptionist loves you. Your receptionist marched right into Stanford Lab and said "Camille was here! Where is the report!" And the woman at the desk, with rolls all along the side of her body that looked liked they were swimming, picked up the requisition form on the fax machine and said "She's right here," And I wanted to say "I knew it!" with my finger pointed up firmly or something but I didn't I just said "oh good." She said it would be done in 2 hours. Then two hours later on the dot the fax machine rang, and I knew it was coming, and I stood there, and then the fax machine said "error. Fax failed." I knew it was Stanford Lab and that they messed-up. The phone rang. I watched the fax machine hoping they would resend it. But they did not. It was 4 o'clock. The woman on the phone was telling me about her period that came midmonth. "What color is it?" I asked. Then Camille comes in the office looking queesy, "is it here?" She had left a message on the machine but all day I was talking to women about their periods. Just about all our patients were bleeding, at mid month or end month. "How is your flo?" I investigate. Camille is standing here now. I tell her "It's on the way!" (go home, I'm thinking, and Let the girl receptionist do her job.) No more impatience! This is a one-girl receptionist job. No more Mrs. Nice girl Receptionist.
Where is that Stat? I'll get that stat!
See girl receptionist work the fax-stanford lab-antiobiotic-kidney-lauden pharmacy- lisence #ND76, the e-coli or not to e-coli traffic jam.
I called them at another hospital in Stanford where Camille's urine had found its way. "Send it again!" I clarified. The report flew in, it was right there, those Squamous cells. Haho, and twentyfive minutes later the antiobiotics were ordered (500 mg 2x day.
As girl-receptionist, let me testify! I am emboldened by the brave things we girls must do to keep our body parts in check, (the burning, the cramping and all the world up there!)
My dear Whoa-mans sing "The Uterus, the Cervix, the Urethra, Oh My!).
The days we count--we get to 28 and we have to start over, or the things we have to stick-up there to clean house, or the times we have to pee in a cup (my dear Camille), and sometimes we have to smell our panties to check our Myrrh.

Revised post, come back dear reader.

Last night I led a poetry workshop at VFC called "Expressing God in Just Your Way," in preparation for the Poetry Slam at the end of the month. Showing how you can speak of God in fresh ways that are your very own. A small group came, I had first them journal on some questions, thinking about where they're at right now in their everyday, in their routine, in what they're digging about in their life. It was such madness organizing the worksheets, I had six different papers and packets of examples and worksheets and everything got mixed up. but i finally made all their packets and had them finish reflecting. The best part of the workshop was the main activity--a fill-in-the-blank poem--in other words, I gave them the form, and they used their own substance. But giving them some form allowed for a new kind of scope in how they bring out their stuff. For instance, one sentence was "I come to you with faith and _____."
The first adjective is a more serious and over-reigning kind of adjective. I had them pick a second adjective that was a more everyday word, quite possibly a word to describe our humanness, like worry ordistress. So this showed them a good trick, how if you pair two adjectives, and use one that is more lighthearded and another that is more heavy. . . . Their juxtaposition is where things get dynamic. It creates a tension.
So the six students (from ages 17 to fifty-somethings) worked on this sheet for 10 mintues. I could see that I probably had too many blanks, to many parts of this. But then I was floored when they read. Their poems were amazing! And I was really surprised, because they were all filled with sorrow, these plea-ing, distressed hearts, (and with the way I sort of prompted their form) saying Here I am God, will you take me? They completely took the prompt for the direct addresses to God, asking God " Can I _______ (verb) you?" The voices in their poems were so real and so raw. devastating. with sigh. all i can say is i'm so honored to see these glimpses of struggle and worry, that we all have this. and how vivid and that much more real to pray or write to God with these pleas. how vulnerable!
i know now i must teach another. these were some of the best little poems i've heard, truly, and i usually get so bored at open mics or workshops and i just can't swallow cliches. but none of this was like that. it was all very sincere. yes. sincere. that is what I liked about it.

This rots,
I seem to feed off those b*ys that shrug me off. so unwilling. Good grief! Sometimes I wish I were more like Sally from the Snoopy comics. She just charges in, and throws Linus to the side and makes this wreck, and completely doesn't bother with how she has rubbed anyone else.
Even better, I wish I were more like Miss Piggy, who is so in love with Kermit and unashamed, and although he is neutral about her, though all she makes him do is gulp, she still loves the Frog! She still tries to smooch him, and then becomes so mad she tosses him way up in the air. Yes. Both Sally and Miss Piggy tossed the frustrating b*ys. She rushes to him, then flings him away, and sings terrible loud songs about them later while gazing at the mirror. OK, I've got the rushing to them thing nailed. Next for me is to toss them way up over behind a bush or something. *sigh. I get so inflammed over these mens who are hardly provoking or enticing.
Why do I try to correlate myself with these mens, so rock-like, so fascinating, so so, I can't think of the word, . . . I'm flossing.. . so hardy. but not hearty. man* with no lift, no gust, no shine, no brightness (as in energy, not smarts). no wonder. I think I'd like a man with some wonder. I'm leading a poetry workshop this weekend and the best thing about it is this 3 page list of Transitive verbs. Enticing. Tyrannize. Cajole. Warn. Defy. curse. stun. Enlist. Someone tell me a better transitive verb I should employ! Good grief.*