Bring me back to vinvyl. but the record skips.

5/2/07
I notice that I go up and down.
It's like walking on a dock. and I am walking and feeling confident and maybe even running towards the edge, when my foot goes crashing in. a soggy plank, and there I am with my foot below the plank.

I need presence. I need to engage what i do. and there is a subtle way I feel direly disconnected. and I want to be seen and felt. and I want to share. i need to be put seeds in the soil. And maybe this is all what Rilke warned me anyway, when he said:

"Love at first is not anything that means merging, giving over, and uniting with another (for what would a union be of something unclarified and unfinished, still subordinate--?_, It is a high inducement to the indvidual to ripen, to become somthing in himself, to become world, to become world for himself for another's sake, it is a great exacting claim upon him, something that chooses him our and calls him to vast thins. Only in this self, as the tak of working at themselves might young people use the love that is given them. merging and surrendering and every kind of communcion is not for them.

But young people err so often and so grievously in this: that they (in whose nature it lies to have no patience) fling themselves at each other, wehn love takes possession fo them, scatter themselves, just as they ar, in all their untidiness, disorder, confusion....And then what? What is life to do to this heap of half-batered existence which they call their communion and which they would gladly call their happiness, if it were possible, and thier future? Thus each loses himself for the sake of the other and loses the other and many others that wanted still to come. And loses the expanses and the possibilities, exchanges the approach and flight of gentle, divining things for an unfruitful perplexity out of which nothing can come any more, nothing save a little disgust, disillusionment and poverty, and rescue in one of the many conventions that have been put up in great number like public refuges along this most dangerous road. ......

It is true that young people who love wrongly, that is, simply with abandon and unsolitarily..." (from Letters to a Young Poet)

5/1/07

This day low. and worried. not sure what I can make out of this? is this for me? thoughts winding around myself....
went home and prayed. these heavy garments. Threw them on the cross. "The spirit of fear," "the spirit of hostility" - - threw them like long red sashes on the cross. saw them hanging, draped around the cross, almost beautiful. These garnet royal looking sashes. deep red. hanging from the cross.

....

Went to the Cliff's house. He busted out his vinyl. he had bought the record player. "Close your eyes! close your eyes!" i waited each time with anticipation.....Jay-Z, Madonna, The Roots. disco. I was swooned. oh my. His scratching. big ol hands, kickin that beat. "Homie! I can't believe it!"
We are to set up the Technics finally in my living room. He's going to help me do it. We're gonna throw the party.

I want to turn this around.

There will be touching vinyl. There will be a crowd to work. a crowd to bring to the dance floor. there will be crates to dig through. There is someone who wants to make it happen.
there will be instrumental tracks. there will be treasures. There will be room to knock on. There will be rooms to find.

Molly. Can you please sit down.

4/30/07

Wrap me in. Can you wrap around me?

Is there a candlelight room?
I want a dim candlelight room I can confide in.
I want a candle groaning.
Is there a soft room that comes into me?
Are there shadows on the wall?