Samira

Because human lives are composed in precisely such a fashion….They are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms fortuitous occurrence into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual’s life.

The brain appears to possess a special area which we might call poetic memory and records everything that charms or touches us, that makes our lives beautiful…. Metaphors are dangerous. Love begins with a metaphor. Which is to say, love begins at the point when a [someone] enters [their] first word into our poetic memory.

–Kundera, Unbearable Lightness of Being

received a time-capsule in the mail today: a vault of memories in the form of a notebook, collaborative musings of Brandin, Skylar & myself.

(history relies upon dissonance, upon discontinued familiarity, a fading into metaphors: the substitution of book for body; the colors that remind of her & the sounds that have become him.)

thank you, BB.
thank you for safekeeping this over all these years.
i can’t even begin to describe all that i am feeling right now.
i love you.

Skylar, rest in peace, friend.

Beyond the concept of time. Beyond awake lie a plethora of dreams. Streams of tomorrow’s memories. Songs of amnesia. Faceless friends and visible strangers. Beyond the language of our cursed minds lies a wilderness. A seed of darkness. Patient in the face of measurements and time. Because it is infinite. Beyond the limits of the word lie tiny gaps. Timeless vacuums. Tiny timeless gaps. These are the cracks in the timely measured concrete. Hairline cracks in gray cement. Timeless. Infinite. Untimed and unmeasured. Space. Gardens of violets. Oceans. Streams of freshly squeezed lemon. Sounds above a newly tuned grand piano. Songs and colors and scents. Infinitely sweet and full and hydrated. Mythical pockets. Smaller than the mind’s concept. So large. Beyond the narrow measures of time and distance exist small cracks. Voluptuous and small. pungent and narrow. Warm. Warmth. Wordless warmth. Eternal womb. Where there ticks no time. When everything is luster. And warm. Warmth. Not just some things. Sometimes. Luster is everything. Everything is luster. No ticking in the water’s warmth. The womb’s warm water.

And all that remains to be seen. In all its color. In all its melodious hum. In all its elusiveness. All the memories it instilled. Or dreams captured. That which has no audience still performs itself. Still performs. All which remains to be seen is not non-existent.

(history relies upon dissonance, upon discontinued familiarity, a fading into metaphors: the substitution of book for body; the colors that remind of her & the sounds that have become him.)

Please support my fundraising efforts for the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network

Kelly lost her father to pancreatic cancer 2 weeks ago. He had been diagnosed only 4 months ago. Think about that for a moment: 4 months. 4 months is a flash. Many of us have been unemployed for longer periods than that, have traveled for longer periods than that. Think about a semester in college. We’re talking a very short period of time.

I can’t even imagine what Kelly, Brad and Emily have gone through these past months, having to say goodbye to their dad in such a short amount of time. I’ll be joining Kelly on her birthday for a fundraiser walk, in memory of her father: Mike Blanchard.
Please stop by my fundraiser page & join us if you want to, donate if you can.

Thanks for taking the time to read this.

Much love

sam

i'm about to go to bed, and i'm still wearing my shoes. my 34 years have finally caught up with me & i'm really scared, because every last part of me wants to run away so fast right now. but i'm not giving up. i know i have to learn this lesson.

i must learn to trust that not every relationship ends in abandonment.

when i was approaching the tollbooths, i kid you not, about 20 cop cars with blinding reds and blues, sirens, were swarming around at very high speeds, all heading towards my general direction…

it was like a wild goose chase. there were cops coming from the bridge, from oakland, from behind me. it seemed like something i’d imagine as some strange version of bumper cars at burning man.

the vehicle that was being chased was careening towards me, swerving every direction before it dove into the space where the two freeways merge, a ditch of some kind, still going the wrong direction.

the vehicle must have made it out, because as we were coming back, those 20 cop cars were parked on the 80 east, all still with lights on. phillip said he had thought i exaggerated when i said “20 cop cars”. then he looked and his jaw dropped. he said there were at least 20 cop cars.

http://www.insidebayarea.com/oaklandtribune/localnews/ci_11485074

yup. good old east bay.
just where you think you can have a quick trip over the bridge at 2.30am:

the excitement never stops.

at this exact moment i am grateful for:

• a good night’s rest last night, which helped me kick ass today
• finishing up my 2007 taxes
• staying on track with building my new savings account, putting away 20% of my earnings each paycheck
• my job, my colleagues & the growth we’re experiencing
• kelly, who just plain rocks my socks off–she’s such a wonderful friend
• my relationship with todd, from which i continue to grow and learn
• todd, who continues to crack me open with his tiniest of gestures
• my colleague chris, who left the company last friday after 6 1/2 years–
  his absence this week really crystallized for me how important it is to love your job:
  over the past 4 years i’ve spent more time with some of my colleagues than with my family
  and even some friends. we spend a large percentage of lives at work.
  please do something you enjoy!
• my cat. she is perfect.
• mateo, for knowing where (and when)  to find me.
• belen, for reaching out & being so wonderfully up front and open in her communications
  (whether it concerns beer & pizza, or deep and personal matters)
• luscious (no particular reason. she just makes me happy)

i know there’s more, but this is a good start.

sam

In reflecting on my nice weekend i just had,
i am grateful for:

* getting silly with everyone after pearl’s alley on friday.
* todd and lucho, for taking me to see the monarchs, even though they had already departed.
* a drive home without traffic (small pleasures, i know)
* seeing Luscious and Weazie perform their final “Wait Until Dark” at the Altarena on saturday.
* margaritas with Luscious and crew after the play.
* todd & mateo picking me up for a day of frolicking on the beach.
* spending some sam-time on the beach.
* collecting a few beautiful rocks.
* sharing my fried chicken sandwich with everyone (i am grateful for bakesale betty)
* seeing lucho, jeffrey and shama (<3), hunny and joe
* seeing luscious and dave (so happy to see them!)
* spending time with tracy and frank
* spending time with todd this weekend & feeling really thankful for where we are right now
* having a tear-inducing, stomach-wrenching giggle-fit for at least 3 miles on highway 9
* tracy’s incredibly touching email last night
* movies & kittens & snuggles with todd yesterday
* having a good talk with my boss today, after leaving work feeling unsupported on friday.

a lot to be grateful for & that feels nice.

(meme, picked up while roaming tribe)

& how else to withstand the enormity of such burden,
the burden of sight, but to believe
that there can only be the grace of others?

Danetta & Belen made me smile this week.
so here you go:
reply to this blog & i’ll tell you
why you make my world a better place to live.

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today i am grateful for:

• recognizing that it is important to articulate my gratitude.
• seeing Lisa absolutely shine on opening night in an incredible play.
• going for margaritas with Luscious and David after the play.
• having a 3 day weekend after a relentless work week but, much more importantly: Martin Luther King
• 2 gigs coming up next week.
• a heartfelt email from Todd.
• seeing Todd tomorrow.
• my friendship with Kelly.
• my beautiful kitten.
• purple lipstick.
• finally replacing one of my most treasured records, which i lost in 2003 at a party in Austin playing a 12 hour 2×4 set (Thanks, Addictech!)

Immodest creature, you do not want
a woman who will accept your faults,
you want one who pretends
that you are faultless–one who will
caress the hand that strikes her
and kiss the lips that lie to her.

George Sand, Intimate Journal, 1834

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too nearyour slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

–e. e. cummings