it has begun. (the cross-pollination/mobile show and tell tour!) this means my detailing will be thrown off its once-a-day, everday track. while my intention is still to write them everyday (analog when i don’t have digital access, and upload them/catch up in whatever way i can), i’m not quite sure yet how this will look or play out. if you miss me, click on the interactivity link (to the right) and leave some of your own details. or send me your address for a postcard.
i already have so much i want to tell you. like how amazing a mobile space is. how it invites people in. how it gives us an excuse to talk to strangers. how today, when this youth/teen/young adult [why do all those words make me cringe?] (i can’t remember her name, but her girlfriend’s name was peaches) was playing the harmonium and then every time she made a mistake she said i can’t do this, to which i countered with: yes you can! we did this call and response so many times until eventually she just started saying i can! every time she played the keys she didn’t mean to play.
how val showed me around the city heights remedy garden as debbie closed up shop. how i finally learned what that soft and silvery plant that is growing in at least two of our four garden beds is called (california everylasting) and how i couldn’t stop plucking the stevia leaves and taking tiny sweetburst nibbles.
how the men at the tamales stand only spoke spanish. and how good it felt. to try. without an english copout option. and how one of them said you learn spanish, i learn english before he chiseled away the top of the coconut and shoved a straw in. which made me think that not many people get the coconuts from the tamale stand. especially when he had to go grab straws to poke in the holes from another vendor. the coconut water was ice-chest cold and exactly what my body wanted.
how it was a return to the first farmers market i’ve ever been to in this city. only this time, the pluot is parked on the opposite side of the continent. and i think i know san diego now.
how there were at least three different types of butterflies in the garden. light yellow with pink dots/fringe (which made me think of pink lemonade), dark brown with light blue dots/fringe, and some monarchs. plus the gigantic-est grasshoppers in the universe.
how i wrote this message and sent it across the satellites today: !!!!!! played that show with kyle last night!!!!!!!! so sooo soooo sooo good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you for connecting us and knowing that it was the best fit ever. i could see you in his face/hear you in his laugh! and i think it is beautiful. how we carry people that way.
last night’s chorus ringing out: turn up the volume, turn up the volume, turn up the volume and live. how the words don’t do much, even when italicized. because this text can’t quite capture the exquisite ferociousness / turbulence rising up in the room not just from one gut, but from any of us (which is most likely most of us) who still don’t know how to hold the gigantic open that is left when near/dear humans slice open this world to step through into the next.
how i didn’t know what to say, so i traced the map on the wall. did some shout outs to various cities including the letter m. how i felt so close to my surface. skin thinner, guts pressing against. how this is a different sensation altogether when the temperature outside matches my body temperature and i feel skinless, almost weightless, seamless. how the thinner skin in the projector light felt ragged. dangerous. and how unusual that is for me at a reading. it was different than nerves. it was like our dead walked in through the sliding patio door, surfing on cool canyon air. (and not just any dead. but those we fight to bring ourselves closer to.)
how it is 4:29 am and we’re shoving off tomorrow at 10am. and how i had this realization about the process of packing for a long time away. it made me think about how i’m very comfortable being in process and not always so comfortable with finality/end product. which is why packing/preparing interrupts this pattern (even though i fight against it) because there is an end-time. and usually this struggle results in something like staying up til 4 am.