Sunday, September 30, 2012

bubs

I dig this picture, taken at an ID bubble tea place a few weeks ago with Ms Smackbooty. Partly because I'm hanging out with one of my fave people in the world (obvi!) but also due to the angles, colors and reflections in the photo; it's nearly a collage.
Ms. S taught me a new high-five this weekend. Checked out the elliptical machine at a friend's condo building (I've always wanted to, says the ten-year-old.) Went up to the rooftop deck and gravely surveyed the city. When prodded: "talk to the booty 'cause the hand's off duty."

Sunday, September 23, 2012

weekend haps

My friends have been so busy creating. (I have been too but the publishing gears grind slowly so I can't say much more just yet.)
cesario continues his art installation under the University bridge, fasting and meditating and selling pieces. The Stranger took notice. I don't have the benjamins to help him past the next financial hurdle but I've gone by a few times for hugs and conversation. You should stop by, while you can.
Last nite super chill MC Tulsi lit it up at the Nectar (when did we start calling it "the Nectar," btw?). It was a relaxed night of west coast hip hop featuring Graves33, Gnu Deal (I've wanted to check out those cats for a minute) and a screening of a cool mini-movie.
And there's more: DJ Limerence's new mix, not to mention the smashing Kelly Castle Scott's upcoming debut in early 2013. The beats don't get much fresher than they are right now in Seattle.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

maryguerite

So my gramma turned 91 last week. She's busy with her rental houses and oil-company dealings and news of various feuds being perpetuated around town. When I was visiting a few weeks ago she took a look at the ink on my left inner arm ("Dusty"). What about the other arm, she said, with the twinkly smile that I know means mischief.
I played dumb. What do you mean?
Marguerite, she said. I think it'd fit.
It was the first time she'd acknowledged the tattoo that reminds me every day of my grampa. And to tell the truth I'd thought about my other arm a few times, about gramma, about Marguerite.
I've been thinking about my mom, too: Mary.
Mary
Marguerite
Mary
Marge
It seems like somehow the two should be together, mom and daughter, and close to me, that somehow this should be possible. So much in my life seems impossible, knottier than Mideast peace and harder to sort than the plotline of a Chesterton novel, it's nice to think that this may be solvable.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

restless

I'm getting restless, keep finding myself daydreaming about getting in a car and hitting the road for awhile.
A friend mentioned that she and her husband wanted to take six months and volunteer their way around the country and it made me happy and sad all at once, thinking I want that too.
There are big changes brewing and I keep weighing pros and cons. I feel scared, uncertain, anxious, curious.
Change keeps my mind fresh, I ride that adrenaline high and forgo eating and live on bourbon and bubble gum. Am I running away? Taking a blind leap?
Or maybe there is no big picture, certainly my story is small and unimportant, and what I decide has little to do with anything but geography and libido and the kind sideways glance of fate.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

the lowdown, the letdown, the runaround


So I got to spend some time in Kansas a couple of weeks ago. These bricks leading to the back yard were most likely laid by my grandpa Dusty decades ago. It feels good to be where he was, to sleep in the house he helped build, to sit on lawn chairs at dusk with my grandma and the fam and watch the neighborhood go by.
It was a long relaxing vacay if you ask me--a family dinner at Gella's, lots of laughs and beer with my aunt and cousins, a road trip west to visit more family; then a few days on the opposite coast with my favorite wild man, music and whiskey and jaunts to the City and tubing and camping and a couple of all-nighters.
*
Now, reality again, and I'm scared to face it. A friend told me that sometimes the answer you get is not the answer you want. Life is giving me a lot of answers, some of them mean and direct and difficult to hear. I hope I can listen and not break.

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