Messed up

Annie: "But I don't want my room to be clean! If it's clean, it looks like it belongs to somebody else!"

Can't sleep

If only those naughty sheep would just come down.

Nothing's gonna change my world

Except (accept) everything.

In real time

At my desk, earl grey in my cup, and Blackbird never sounded so good.

In my dreams

Last night I dreamed I was in the house of a young, troubled woman, attending a New Year's Eve party. I stood beside the fire and told another guest that I believed New Year's Eve was a gift the world gives itself--so people can have renewed hope that life will be better than it was.

I had a boyfriend in the dream--tall, dark and strikingly handsome. He held me in his arms and I asked why he seemed unhappy in my embrace. He said he was just uncomfortable in so many clothes, that the house was too warm, so he removed several layers of jackets and sweaters then he said, "Sometimes you're so intuitive, it scares me."

Later, I was outside and he passed by with a group of male guests. I was confused because I was sure he had seen me, but he took another route back to the house. When I returned to the party, the house was empty. I assumed my boyfriend and the group of men would be inside and I became nervous. I felt as if I were being tricked, that at any time they would all jump out of hiding and scare me.

"I know you're here!" I shouted, but they weren't.

Just then a storm began--there was a horse in the kitchen, a beautiful and frightened Palomino mare. Suddenly I heard a commotion coming from downstairs--like a scene in a fairytale book, an old washer woman scolding a strange child for inviting a boy into the house who was half human, half wolf.

I knew my boyfriend didn't love me. I thought to go and comfort the mare. Instead I decided to leave the party before the guests returned, and imagined the man I loved would be kissing someone else at midnight.

Teach your children well

Annie: "Why is Grandma obsessed with politics?"

Me: "I don't think Grandma's obsessed with politics."

Annie: "Yeah, she talks about Obama and how moving his speech was, or she'll say, 'Look, that's McCain's Vice President--she killed that beautiful bear.'"

Thank you

Bill Evans--for playing on my new speakers, for sitting at the sidebar, and for always making life better.

In real time

Fall is official--on the calendar and in the air. This morning I took Honey for her first river swim by the Little Red Lighthouse.

I live here

Evolving 101

Think of the alternative.

Lower self

I have either fallen in love with, or attracted men who are unavailable--emotionally unable, attached to other people or who live far away. Obviously, I am the common denominator, the creator of this reality--it's what I've asked for and it teaches me lessons I desperately need to learn. But sometimes I just want to toss my responsibility into the trash and feel some good old fashioned anger--I want to curse and blame, and have someone else share the burden when this perfect journey I'm on suddenly feels like an endless, impossible, and lonely climb.

Secret

To keep myself from completely living a real life--I make up stories, lie to myself about possibility, and hide behind the pretense of faith.

Who needs a companion...

When you can have a Companion 3?

I got myself one today.

I have a dream

Out of hiding

This morning, after walking Annie to school, a neighbor I've known for years stopped and said:

"You always used to have a sad look in your eyes, even when you were smiling. Now your eyes look happy."

Annie: "You want to stay hip and with-it, don't you Mom?"

Me: "I guess so."

Annie: "Then from now on, make sure when you're confused to say, 'I'm confizzled.'"

She's a dog

For a while I stopped posting pictures of Honey because she went through an "Ugly Phase."

Either she's adorable again, or I've gone blind.

Confizzled

Last night as I'm getting off the 'A' train at 14th Street, a woman asks me:

"Do you ride motorcycles?"

Me: "No, why? Do I look like I ride motorcycles?"

Woman: "Yes."

Me: "Well is that a good thing?"

Woman: "Yes!"

Olive me

Congratulations to our dear friend Tallulah Strom--who rescued this adorable Jack Russell Terrier, now named Olive, on a recent family trip to Mexico.

In real time

I open the window and feel fall on my hand.

Tonight

Sets at 9 pm and 10:30 pm
SMALLS Jazz Club,
183 W 10th St. off Seventh Ave, NYC
$20 admission

Vocalist Deanna Kirk performs with saxophone giant Harry Allen.
Also featuring the fine pianist Steve Ash and Neal Miner on bass.

Sitting at the sidebar

Today I was driving up the West Side Highway and a man shouted from his SUV, accusing me of being on crack. I laughed, but then tried to imagine what he was referring to. The only thing I could come up with was that Oregon was playing on my car stereo, and for sure, this track had me in a trance.

Wouldn't it be something if the only reason people drove like they were on crack was because they loved great music?

Did you see the moon tonight?

Sorry

My body is here, but my heart's somewhere else.

Will blog again soon.

Proof

With all my options tonight, I chose to stay home--a steel guitar playing and a box of memories at my feet. No photographs or love letters, just piles of tax returns and receipts from the past 13 years of my life.

Papers bound in rubber bands, marked and labeled. The new sofa, a crib for baby, an electric bill from the apartment on 71st Street. The music is gentle, the ceiling fan spins--low lights and a plastic bag for the stuff I no longer need.

I've moved so fast--out of marriage and into myself--through awakening, discovery, bliss and grief--I've been running like I'm wild, and these memories make me stop. Annie's first plane ride, a stub from the circus, a birthday surprise.

I cautiously sift through a stack of phone bills from the year my father died--and they go backwards in sequence. December 1996 then November--there's June and May. And before I go further I wonder--will February feel different in my hand? April--what was life like then? March. The guitar strumming hard like it can't arrive soon enough--wanting to make up for lost time, feel every ounce of everything, or maybe just wanting to let everything go. February. I hold my breath, flip the page and there it is--11:39, the last time I would hear his voice--9:16, when I was told he was gone.

The plastic bag now full of what I no longer need--a pay stub from a forgotten job, the big tip David gave, an explanation of benefits. The box of proof now empty, the bag of proof in a tin can.

The proof of this Friday night, of my husband's love, my child's birth, and of my father's death. Proof of my life unbound, no strings or ink, nothing to contain, is right here--inside a room, inside a woman, free of what she no longer needs--as the strumming frees the broken heart of the steel guitar.

Sitting at the sidebar

Who wants to hear something pretty this morning?

How about Dragon Throws Out Pearl by Makana.

Aloha.

Remembrance

Everyone knows where they were when they heard the news of John Lennon's death. I was 17, lying on my bed watching Monday night football. And everyone knows where they were Tuesday morning, September 11th, 2001.

I won't attempt to tell my story of being at work early that day, just blocks from the Towers. I won't try to make poetry of the coffee in my hand as I looked out my office window, unaware I was watching truckloads of firemen on their way to die.

I will mention the woman from Harlem. We held hands and did not let go, negotiating our way through crowds-without words, sharing our fear and confusion. We were strangers and sisters, and like everyone, we were on foot, heading north, looking for home.

I will say something about the two men who picked us up in their jeep-driving alongside taxis filled with bloody fares, thousands of voiceless pedestrians marching, the silence of their footsteps, and businessmen clinging to briefcases as they rode on the bumpers of slow-moving trucks. We hadn't yet known what happened, but somehow we knew we'd forever be a part of each other's accounts.

We were a family of eight million that day and the days and weeks that followed. Every missing child was our missing child, and I'll leave it at that, because I'm just not good enough to paint a picture of what it was like to be where I was, on that Tuesday morning that began much like this Tuesday morning, under a crisp blue sky, so full of hope and promise.

In real time

Dirty dishes, first fall morning, Oregon plays, and my second cup of coffee is only moments away.

by me

I want to make a movie, write a novel, drive to California.
I want to make a meal, bake a pie, fall in love and take a nap.

I want to sit in Central Park and drink coffee with my mother-
I want to smell blue, put honey on my lips and bathe a baby.

I want to hold an old man's hand, skip with my daughter and balance on one foot.

I want to write a poem, I want to write a poem, I want to write a poem.

Sitting at the sidebar

If not for this sleepless night, I wouldn't be up listening to If Not for Love by my friend Deanna Kirk.

Counting sheep

Maybe I'm too literal. Maybe that's why I can't sleep.

Tuesday night

At the Half Note is alive and well.

Does the image seem unfitting?

Not to me.

In real time

It's a beautiful day and I'm home now, the sun on its way down and the windows wide open. But I'm in bad mood, do you want to know why? Because someone in the building is playing "Journey," and I'm sorry, that right there is just never OK. Never.

Sitting at the sidebar

Take that!

The sun will come up

Last week I walked across the George Washington Bridge to watch the sun rise over Manhattan. It rose over the Bronx instead.

Click here for more recent pictures.

Light

Half & half

My Mom: "In Annie I see the prince that David is, and the ball of fire you are."

Independently owned & operated

For sure.

On my voice mail

"Don't be alarmed, this is your last offer for a low-interest home equity loan."

Sitting at the sidebar

I recently fell in love... with this song by Chris Knox.

Click the sidebar to hear.

One Fell Swoop

Fold and wind your shadow all around me
Undefined by words you long to say
Cold and kind your breathing will surround me
I'm inclined to let you have your way
And I am wholly-I am wholly quite the same

Flow my spine-electrified and aching
Thoughts enshrined in words I cannot say
And I am slowly-I am slowly torn and maimed
And I dunno, I could fall, stripped of all I'm feeling
I could go through the wall, I could say goodbye

Read my mind, my lips will not contain me
There's no sign I'll ever find a way
And I'm dissolving-I'm dissolving into flame

Wouldn't it be nice

To find someone who understands and speaks your language.

Manhattan morning

It's much too early for me to be up, but now I'll see the sunrise over New York.

In real time

Home watching this on DVD.

Quote

"You don't want to take a tantric man home to your mother... you just want to take him home."

~Elizabeth Schwartz

Picture this

Annie grabbed the camera from my hand as I attempted to delete a picture she'd just taken of me.

"But Mom!" She said. "It's a great one! You look like a damsel in distress!"

10 things I like

Greek God's Fig Yogurt
Kashi Pumpkin Spice & Flax Granola bars
Macbook cover in red.
Shape Up Shoes
Coffee at the Silver Moon Bakery
Life in Motion on Broadway
Goat cheese omelet at Sarabeth's
White Lillet on the rocks with sliced orange
Central Park Carousel
Desert Organics Vanilla Chai lotion

iLove

Me: "You know your Daddy loves you, don't you?"

Annie: "Of course! I'm on his screensaver!"

Flight light

The sun sets outside my apartment door.

Me & her

Today.

Happy day

This song says that good things in life take a long time--but my favorite season, and other surprises, are coming soon.

As always, stay tuned.