musings of a psychedelic punk rock renaissance yogini and late-blooming athlete
“I found an island in your arms
Country in your eyes
Arms that chain
Eyes that lie
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side
Break on through oh, oh yeah”
The Doors
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Tangent pulled from the middle of this free-write: Brunettes. I love dark boys, the dark hair, the dark skin, the pale eyes. I never thought I had a type, but looking back I see I have a thing for Mediterranean men. Darker men. I love curly hair and almond-shaped eyes. Light brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes. Oh, but dark hair and lovely sharp features.
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I am moving house. Well, apartment to house. Still renting, but I am spreading out, sort of.
Whenever I move I find stuff – lots of writing especially. I write a lot, but it doesn’t mean I type it, or file it properly, or share it.
The discipline is in the order, not the action for me. I don’t know when I wrote this, I suspect right before moving to Arizona, 2006/2007, while I was leaving my husband and living in a basement in Brooklyn.
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Early childhood Latter Day Saints storybook memory and how I learned that God was not a grumpy old man who spied on me from the sky.
This piece is featured in Elizabeth Hellstern’s interactive creation, the Telepoem Booth.
photo: Holly Troy
Read MoreWhat’s the best thing to do when you can barely think and the weather is crappy and you’re visiting your mom who is a smoker and you are not? Look through boxes of stuff to see what you can find. I’ve been looking for two things mainly — old vocal exercise tapes with my coach Don Lawrence and videos of my performances. I found neither of those things. I did find one box with artwork and journals that have moldered and mice have made nests of, LPs that Chewie the pet rabbit has been snacking on, and, (redemption!) photos that are in pristine condition of my band The Halfbreeds!
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I can look the part, and I certainly have the required credentials to fit in, but I feel a creepy sensation under my skin when I drive to work everyday to sit at a desk and push paper around for a bureaucratic system.
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