Twilight Flight ~ American Sentence Day 101 of 108

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. 

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Maggie and Jack

Been 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

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sometimes you are helpless

Humid 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 […]

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It was . . . so real

After 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.

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riding the changes

While 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.

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Born on a Thursday #24 ~ All Shook Up

What’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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Connecting outside of internet/telephone technology

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.

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Rubble, Trouble, and Celestial Evolution at my Door

Dreaming 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.

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G is for Geordie and for Gratitude!

I 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.

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Dreaming of . . . Television (and social expansion)

I’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.

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Ride

I 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.

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