musings of a psychedelic punk rock renaissance yogini songbird and late-blooming athlete
Meanwhile, I was moseying along on my bicycle in this little mountain town – I found myself transported back to the east village – the food, the smells, the people, the clothes, the bookstores, the creative collaboration. Ah. The best of both worlds.
Read MoreDharma wants to know Greg’s fantasy girl. Greg tells his mother that he doesn’t want to go on the cruise with her. Dharma tracks down Greg’s fantasy girl and she makes a video. Dharma can’t understand why Greg is not thrilled. Dharma talks to her mother about Greg’s fantasy. Dharma’s mother says by shining a […]
Read MoreBeen thinking about Jack Kerouac and Maggie Estep today. Bad Day at the Beauty Salon And Maggie’s classic: I’m An Emotional Idiot. and: I’m Happy
Read MoreHumid Breath is pulled from my lungs. My throat goes hollow every time a howling fire truck wails down the street. My throat goes hollow, I could swallow those anxious faces peering from the fire truck wailing down the street. It would be safer in my mouth— I could swallow those anxious faces peering, despite […]
Read MoreAfter all the haze and horror of the 80s, the 90s was a time of hope, even among the rubble. Music, art, creativity, yoga and spirituality merged and emerged from the grayness and dust of the city, of the darkest places. It was like swimming, like falling, in a deep pool of inspiration, so many ageless children diving down and willingly sharing, exchanging, the pearls we’d found at the murky bottom.
Read MoreWhile going through my things, I found this poem. I wrote it in 2005 while living in New York City. I made a couple of edits. It’s a play off of a poem by John Ashbury.
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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Born on a Thursday Number Thirteen
Is it a risk for me to go to New York? I don’t think it’s any more risky than me staying here where I have not been able to break out of isolation for over two years. I think sticking around much longer where I barely have any connection is a bigger risk.
Read MoreDreaming I am driving in the city, a city, the way I dream of New York lately. Houston Street is always a vast 8-lane highway that breaks off in a V, dividing the Lower East Side from the rest of the city. Massive buildings, uneven, bulging, and swaying—thousands and thousands of windows. No room for air. It’s grey, the sky, the city, everything. Even red and yellow have a coat of grey.
Read MoreI was thinking about my friend and teacher Geordie today. If you are in NYC, I highly recommend you check out his reiki circle on Monday nights at the Madison Wellness Center! He also volunteers his time for those in recovery from addictions at Third Root Health Center in Brooklyn.
Read MoreI’m missing New York this morning. Would love to roll out of bed, leave my apartment and sit in a coffee shop with my journal and a mug of joe. I know I’d see friends, maybe join a few to make music or write or paint or go for a walk in the park.
Read MoreI played lotto and lost again.
If I had money, I’d own my own parking spot,
a driveway. I didn’t think I could be so selfish
but I really like space.
