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cirque de la nuit

The inky journey of a modern day Troubador

Month

June 2016

Couples are boring

People like couples better

They make sense

They are more rounded

Pegs fit places.

 

I think the world is scared to admit

The power of a single.

The grace, beauty and depth

of a lone being

content in their own replete-ness

Baskets

I remember something my mother told me

(she’ll be shocked to hear)

It was the 4th of July and my mom opened the trunk of her Toyota Camry to pull out blankets and the picnic basket. She handed my older sister a blanket and I reached in to grab the rather large, overfilled basket of food.

My dad was still getting out of the car.

She stopped me, “you let the man do that, he can carry it for you”.

Now 15 years later the world has turned many times over and gender roles/identity are coming under much deserved fire, and I am definitely fighting the good fight on that. I am a supporter of proclaiming yourself, for yourself, by yourself. Whatever that may look, sound, or feel like.

But the message she gave me then rings true in new ways to me. Especially as I’ve been dating J.

He carries the basket.

but only when I ask him to carry the basket

J is one of those rare breeds of human, that really just is unconcerned with how people perceive him.

This works in my favor, because there are days where I want to be the sun, the moon, and every constellation, (including each individual star) and I want to shine so bright it illuminates the whole world. I want to proclaim my truths loudly and boldly. I want to wear my feminine independence on my forehead and challenge all those who dare look at me strangely, to a duel.

And those days J lets me carry the basket.

He doesn’t step in my light, he just lets me shine.

Then some days I fall apart. On the floor, in a dirty smelly heap of unwashed laundry. I feel frail like an old curdled manuscript, yellow and crispy round the edges. I question every decision I make, and stutter over my words. I feel inadequate and underwhelming in every way.

Those days J carries the basket.

His quiet stalwart support of my own personal cataclysm, allows me to weather the storm and come out the other side.

And so I know, what my mother truly meant, and I am so fortunate to have stumbled upon a person who will carry the basket for me, but if I want, will hand it over too.

 

 

 

 

Hazel eyes

This week in Things J Doesn’t Like….

 

Live music.

We are calmly discussing weekend plans and the possibility of going downtown to the live music Comfest.

To be fair it is a chore to get down town during this festival, and even more so to park.  The lines for mediocre beer are unbearably long, and the people themselves are even more so.  But the music is good and it’s a festival you have to see if you in any way appreciate music, people watching, and community pride.

Unsurprisingly, J is not a fan.

I am,  a little shocked to hear him say the dreaded words, “I don’t really like live music”.   -Because my mind snaps to the many live shows, and concerts of all sizes I’ve dragged him to in the year we have dated.

He’s not the type to bite the bullet and be a joiner for my sake (He’s much too brutally honest and self aware for that) so I have always assumed there is something he enjoys about the music shows.

Incredulously, I ask, “but what about all those shows you’ve gone to with me?  I mean I thought you just didn’t like it when my friends bands are playing…” (he is after all, a child of the 70s, who came of age in the 80s and legitimized the 90s his generation perfected the art of garage bands.)

His response, “no, I especially don’t like that.”

Which, as tedious as the long list seems some days,  the longer it grows, the more assured I am that he digs me. I’m all over the place loving and hating things at whim. And he steadfastly stands next to me,  possibly rolling his eyes,  as I figure out what he already knows.  And today that is; Live Bands kinda suck.

 

Kill your conscience

When someone you love
Becomes someone you once knew
A stranger knows all of your secrets
Suddenly.

All of your worst insecurities
Packed their hand-me-down shit
And walked out your front door
Sheepishly .

They entered the world outside
Without your permission
And reveal themselves
Whimsically.

You have lost control
Of a piece of your soul
And how its ekes out
Cautiously.

That’s still not the worst of it.

Remaining behind is
the little asshole voice
inveigling you
to review every
blessed flaw and blemish

and poke large gaping holes
into spots
that are soft and weak.

You convince yourself
That he didn’t leave
That you made the right call
That the world will turn again

But night will fall and
The whispering hag inside your mind
Will awaken
To remind you of all that
Daylight bids you to forget.

 

Check your pulse

I’m obsessed with checking my pulse

I need to know constantly- “is my heart beating to pump blood or to make my life, and others lives better?”

It’s actually annoying. Horribly annoying and sometimes it causes me so much guilt that I am basically immobile. Paralyzed by the thought that I can never do enough, be enough, help enough. I feel lazy, so incredibly lazy.

But I am enough. And checking my pulse is important because it guides me, ever onward to the life I want to live. For myself and others.

These questions are a great start to putting your finger on the right veins.

  1. Do you earn enough money? Absolutely, I earn more than enough money to have everything I need. 
  2. Do you enjoy your job? Most days No. I enjoy the people and aspects of it, but generally speaking, its work, sometimes mindless and tedious. I’m a writer which means 90% of the time my mind is knee deep in a story or song. Realistically for me, any job that requires mindless tedium is not going to be enjoyable for me. The job I have now, is perfect for me though. I acknowledge that because independence is something I value, highly. Where I have it, I thrive.  
  3. Do you prefer Saturday or Monday? Saturday, just like I hate mornings, I hate Mondays. I hate beginnings, they are slow and predictable and boring to me. I like the days/times when anything goes. Anything can happen. 
  4. What would you like to be doing one year from now? Can you make that happen? A year from now I’d like to have published my book of poems. Scary to think about, especially scary because I can make it happen. It hasn’t happened yet—Not for lack of talent, but probably lack of courage. 
  5. What would you like to be doing five years from now? Will you make that happen? At least part time writing. And I DON’T KNOW. I can only hope. 
  6. What would you do with your life if you were a billionaire? Is it possible to live a modified version of that life anyway? I hate to think of things like this. Reality check, I’d probably buy things I didn’t need, and donate a bunch of it to causes I care about. really I have every dime I need in my current paycheck, so why wish for more. I just need to be more responsible with what I do have. 
  7. How much could you cut your outgoings by? How much time at work does that equate to? I could cut them by a lot. I go out all the time, to eat, to shows, to drink, to hang with friends, to watch sportsball… But why would I want to? I have to work, whether I go out or not. Spending time on experiences is one of lifes pleasures for me.
  8. Do you have enough spare time to do the things you really enjoy? If not, why not? I do, I’m sometimes too lazy to make use of the time I have. 
  9. What takes up a lot of your time but is neither unavoidable, rewarding nor enjoyable?Why don’t you cut that/them out immediately, or pay somebody to do it for you? LAUNDRY. I hate it. Obviously if I paid someone to do it, I’d be a prima donna. I already have enough thrift shop clothes I can go two months without doing laundry, as long as commando in a skirt doesn’t bother anyone. 
  10. What mildly pleasant, but pretty pointless things do you fritter too much time doing? How many times a day do you check your email/Twitter/Facebook? How much TV do you watch? Neftlix, it kills my life-energy.
  11. What would you like to do more of? Read, and write.
  12. What motivates you to do something well? When I see that something I’ve done or said has impacted someone positively. 
  13. Who do you envy, and why? Too many people. Everyone on Facebook who goes on vacation.
  14. If you were 100 and looking back on your life, would you be happy with a life well-lived? I would be happy with the things I’ve done and choices I’ve made. But I’d feel incomplete, because I haven’t made my impact yet, I don’t think. 
  15. What makes you proud, satisfied, and content? I feel like I’ve answered this by proxy earlier….
  16. What makes you frustrated, bored, and unfulfilled? Uncreative tasks, being told what to do.  Repetition, predictability, banality. Not being able to spend all night awake for no other reason than just to think, breathe, listen to music and scribble.
  17. What would you do if you had more talent? I would be working to create more opportunities for people to get access to alternative power sources. I would be working towards advancing low-cost sustainable power sources.
  18. What would you do if you had more guts? I would be a screenwriter, a director and I would be a songwriter.
  19. What would you do with your life if nobody was watching, judging or commenting? I would free myself of all my guilty feelings for not doing enough, or being enough. I’d just go write and read, and listen to music and learn new things without feeling inadequate for not working like a slave.
  20. What are you going to do about all this? I am going to figure it out. 

OldSkool

The music just

shivers through me

melodic notes

sear themselves to my spine

and let little droplets of harmony

seep into my bloodstream.

 

I’m awash with feeling when I’m trapped inside a song. I’m a Purple Majesties girl through and through, and when I think of those peaks, against those beautiful baby blue sky eyes, I think of Bluegrass.

I think of the picking and slinging of notes, and the stretch of a fiddle saddled with the cry of acoustic guitar. The pleading in the voices straining to get out of a bluegrass song, it kills me.

Last night we sat on the porch of a bar, it was empty inside and they closed the garage doors, barring us from the A/C. We tipped up to the bar and chatted up the bar tender, making him smile. And we made ourway back to the porch, a cool breeze was starting to drift in, and my friend lit a cigarette.

She exhaled the smoke at the same rate that I sipped my wine from its stemless glass.

Classic rock and idle chatter.

She’s my Monongahela Hike, and my Hocking Hills Heart. She’s my partner in adventure and crime, the bad-idea-jeans joiner and I enjoy our hang time.

But mostly I enjoy the way music speaks to her soul, almost the same way it reads mine.

 

 

 

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