circadia

30

circadia — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 18:19:33 +0000

30. 30.

Help me I think I’m falling

circadia — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 22:20:08 +0000

I want to cancel my birthday. Hell, I want to cancel my birth. A gloomy night of bad sleep. Woke out of a terrible dream of twenty-eight adult children living together in a house on an island. Ominous and disturbing.

Nerves shot. Retreat. Sadness. I need more attention than I’m getting. But I’m a chore and will be seen to eventually. Sit and wait. Just not as important as other things. Maybe every other thing, we’ll let you know.

That’s what you get for trying to do things for others. Asymmetric desolation. No room for complaining either, since it’s your own fault for caring enough to go beyond yourself. You can trade everything for nothing, and be thankful it didn’t go worse for you.

I need to move away. Silently, without warning. They can all wake up to find me gone forever. The petulant child’s fantasy of delightful vengeance.

I can’t cope with life

circadia — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 04:08:13 +0000

Day two back together, and already I’m boring. The stress, the fear, the panic, the disappearance of my personality. Hello, they’re back. I’ve become a detail easily overlooked. A chore far down on the list. A burden, hindrance, annoyance, roadblock, deadweight. When all I wanted was to be cherished and cared for.

Oh well.

Who do you have to blow around here to get some fucking attention?

Downpour

circadia — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 04:01:06 +0000

Patsy Cline and Yo La Tengo. Long day, from reunion sex to breakfast, a long walk for idle shopping, caught in the rain and forced to endure a hard sell in a funky third-world-chic store. Caught up with M—- in time for the latest installment in The Saga of Too Many Men at Once. Dithered and withered and wished for a nap. Onto the bus and a long increasingly exhausted ride back home. Cold. Clear.

Brand new shoes, same old husband

circadia — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 06:35:41 +0000

At last. It’s strange to spend the day at loose ends. I don’t often get to wander and window-shop and have time on my hands.

A misread watch made me very early at the airport. So I hunkered down and read and watched the people. Horny at the prospect of seeing my beloved again, every man was just a cock-delivery device. I was practically drooling into my copy of Becker’s Escape from Evil.

He is more handsome than ever. I love him so much.

Connected with R—– and L—- at some chi-chi cocktail place and then off for the traditional sushi gluttony. I— showed up and kept M—- entertained. I wrote “This washroom is SKUZZY with a ‘K’” on the wall of the can; I can take a certain amount of laxity, but actual dried rivulets of shit down the side of the toilet seat is going too far. Maybe we shouldn’t eat there anymore.

Exhaustion. Home. Not home. Somewhere with a warm bed.

A Culture of Gratitude

circadia — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 04:16:16 +0000

This is what we need to encourage — to embody. Another whole year before we get to do it again… sadness.

I met some lovely people. This was meaningful to me, because I have felt wounded and distanced from my fellow workers in the struggle. I was sure I would heal and get past the pain, and I think that these few days have sped the process along.

The difference between the bullshit culture of minimal tightfisted activism and the real culture of generous sharing and love is becoming clearer to me every day. I don’t see a way to talk about it much, but it is real and working its way within me. It will flower at the right time.

Putting yourself out there

circadia — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 06:00:00 +0000

We shivered by the fire, hearing stories, singing songs, bullshitting and laughing. I wish I had more chances to do this: sit around, sing, tell jokes, tease one another, talk nonsense, let the hours slide by us as we let the tribe do its thing. This is real life. Everything else is over-processed junk, imported bureaucracy from uninhabitable alien worlds. The sooner we learn this the better.

Earlier, I put my foot down and decided that we needed to get working together on cooperatives. And it would have been easy — so, so easy — to let someone else do it, or let no one do it. But I’m not that way. So I DIYed it up and made it mine. Did one last year which worked out well and earned me some respect, so let’s see where this one leads.

And it was cold, but I slept. Under cold stars. Happy.

Secretary

circadia — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 04:52:02 +0000

From one broken board to a different and better one. Awoke refreshed from a long and quiet night out in the field. Participated with joy and calm in the coming together of a group of amazing people. What a privilege. Eat well, sleep well, stay hopeful. Live, love, smile.

Was talked into stepping onto the governing board of this rambling ramshackle collection of miracle workers. Hesitated but decided not to let the recent events cause me to become the kind of person who stays at home and refuses to fight. I fight.

Off to it

circadia — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 05:41:21 +0000

Close up the house, pitch a tent. Drifting through a crowd of schoolkids, waiting for the ferry. Listening in on slices of conversations as they waft by. Sitting on the deck, talking to D—- and J—-, feeling the weight of the weeks fall away. Highways, streets, bridges, tunnels, into forest and cool mountain air. A tent, a table, a circle of people sharing thoughts and where-what-why’s. It’s on and it’s always on. If you just know where to look for it.

Start the countdown

circadia — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 03:15:37 +0000

The weight is coming off me. Dear L—-,

For some reason I’ve been on a kick of listening to the old Genesis albums lately. That comes and goes; I can spend months not even thinking back on that stuff, and then suddenly find myself revisiting those weird old relics of ages past. I was listening to Watcher of the Skies (the Foxtrot version) just now, and you popped into my head. And I felt such a feeling of warm affection for the person I remember you being so long ago: a freak with a heart of gold. And that shaggy mop of hair. If I’d had my shit together back then, I would have had a huge crush on you. Ah well.

It’s hard to look back with such sharp fondness and not feel a little guilty for indulging in nostalgia, or more likely making the past look prettier than it was at the time. And yet some of the things I recall from those times are pretty sweet and wonderful and formative. We had such a passion for music, for literature, and for spending time enjoying the world. I hope you haven’t lost the best parts of that. I don’t think I have, but sometimes I feel them slipping away, and I worry.

I love the you you were. I hope maybe I can get to know you once again and discover the you you are now. I’m sure that would be wonderful.

Love,

—–