Tag Archives: kerouac

splatter art with guts and goodness – she’s ALIVE!

Standard
splatter art with guts and goodness – she’s ALIVE!

it’s working. everything i set out to do with this blog is working! heeHEEEE!

now, you might think, what’s working? you blogged some random thoughts, quit over a year ago and haven’t published a thing since. ah! and that’s where you’d be mistaken, friend. (yes, mr. doubty-doubt-yourself demon, i’m talking to you!)

reading my last post made me misty. that was quite some time ago, in quite specific times. despite my absence since and any speculation that might have come from a few of my last public musings, i still have full access to sharp objects including pens, my daughter still has a mother and people are still subject to my words, whether scribbled or babbled, dramatic or droll. i didn’t forget about this space where i left my heart and dreams and attempts at humor across page after page; where every click and every comment from my readers changed my worldview just a little. attempting to contain that expanded worldview within my myopic daily calendar pretty well made my head explode.

and this is what i found squirming amid the bits of grey matter:

hardheadpress.com: a small press with guts and goodness embracing a golden age of publishing 
(my new press!)

and its first successful release by San Francisco author Ezekiel Tyrus:

hhplogoLOgrayscaleFrontCover

already i’ve realized at least 100 tiny dreams i hardly knew i had. the critical reception has been great so far and a groundswell has begun, especially in San Francisco, rippling all the way out to fledgling fanbases in Toronto and greater Ontario. the author and i have a hilarious connection and a now deep relationship. i couldn’t be more proud or feel more lucky to have produced his striking debut. Ezekiel (Zeke) recently hosted a very successful reading at one of my “churches” –  San Francisco’s

beat museum logo

he has several more events scheduled for the Bay area in October and November, with details forthcoming. i’ll go ahead of course and throw in an Amazon link to Eli,Ely for those of you who’d like to skip straight to the shopping cart. e-book readers will have to wait until October, your breathless anticipation is appreciated! feel free to contact me here or email me with inquiries, requests, your outrage at my outrageousness, or anything else you don’t want to leave in the comments section below.

“Like” hardheadpress at https://www.facebook.com/hardheadpress and follow us on Twitter @hardheadpress.com

thank you and the Universal energy that blessed this harvest of ideas and dreams. life is better after 40. no question.

namaste

-aft

 

Advertisements

a lesson on shyness, shambles and the pursuit of “Awww”

Standard

a beat writer fan’s cliche…our smoke on the water riff, if you will…where we first alight, find delight and begin our imitations…

“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!'” – j.kerouac

but i’m not here today to imitate, or to ruminate on the futures and fantasies this quote inspired behind my shy, collegiate eyes. i’m not writing with the same “Awww” in my throat as when i scribbled it in paint, dead center, on the black sheet of quotes and trippy things that hung in my early ’90s dorm room of disaffection and flannel.

what interests me this morning is the beginning of that sentence…the part i’ve never seen included with these words out of their context…the part i didn’t paint on my black sheep’s black sheet…

“they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and i shambled after as i’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because…”

i’ve always chosen the mad ones. jack described their salience so elegantly, so perfectly analogous to fireworks, like the ones i imagined were for me each july 4th as the nation kicked off its trish birthday festivities in anticipation of the 6th. the mad ones. i’ve hung rapt on their burning words. i’ve wished that my presence would explode like sparkling spiders enough to fill a sky full of stars, or even just a room. i’ve always hoped my blue centerlight would pop one day and the world would say “Awww” at all the love, brilliance, hope and wonder i carry in my heart.

i’ve spent a life shambling. i’ve spent a life feeling the cool cast of a shadow…someone’s shadow, all my days. i’d bet that’s not what people might guess. i’ve learned a lot about how those around me perceived me, my shyness and my life over the years. i was always alarmed and amused when i would learn later about people who were intimidated…the ones who thought i was always outrageous, confident, cool and cold. they were as surprised as i was fascinated when they learned i was a shy, nerdy, soft-hearted dreamer. they don’t know i was the littlest of 7 loud kids. they didn’t guess that i was once the awkward girl at school who got picked on or ignored completely. i went through a lot protecting that dreamer. i kept my tender heart a secret from so many, sometimes on purpose. i’m proud to say she’s made it through with bigger dreams, eyes and sighs than ever.

i used to shamble, but i’m picking up speed.

i always chased those mad ones because i thought i couldn’t be one…one of the people who interests me. i wasn’t interesting enough to others to interest myself. i wasn’t wild enough, free-spirited enough. i danced on peripheries looking for places to jump into the fun, afraid i wasn’t welcome. i felt like a wallflower but played the role badly enough to confuse all but the most perceptive viewers. i became a great sidekick to the loud and living. together we developed complex worldviews in galaxies all our own with our desires and perceptions as lenses. i gave them all the credit for whatever i found interesting in my life. strange then, that i chose so much solitude, moving and working always in new places, seeking my inner dingledodie and another one to play with.

i chose the mad ones as my mates. each time, i believed i was a partner, a mad one, half of a perfect dingledodie pair. sometimes we exploded, but too close to the ground, setting wild fires and hearts ablaze with romantic and destructive abandon. but most times i became the practical one, the grounded girl, the shambler. in the end i’d find myself shambling after the important details left strewn behind my mad one. i’d spend my energy admiring and shambling into trouble, picking up the pieces of our lives, waiting for that blue centerlight that was the fruition of their dreams, mine somehow now a footnote.

these days i’m free. free from the need or desire for shambling. free from the shyness that kept me from lighting my yellow roman candle for a crowd. i’ve picked a mate who seems inspired by my madness and need to burn, burn, burn and never say a commonplace thing (though i know i do more often than not). he does much of my yawning for me, leads with his mind and heart, lives for passion, expresses himself eloquently and honestly and never shambles. he cools and calms me, even as he stokes the fires in my belly, under my ass and in my most desirous heart. he leaves me space and gives me safety as i tap into the heat and beautiful chaos of my centerlight. it’s frightening. i have so much time and energy to devote to fulfilling all of these promises i’ve made to my Self…my excuses for inaction are now thin at best.

jack was a mad one. he describes himself in this most famous of quotes. i wonder if he ever realized he was exactly what he sought, what he loved. i wonder if he had a day where he woke up and realized the shambling was all in his mind. i wonder if he saw that in his whole life he never yawned or said a commonplace thing. i wonder if he ever anticipated that his beautiful and tragic life and poetry would explode across my mind and heart every time i set feet where he set his, or read words he wrote that feel like mine. i wonder if he ever looked up and realized how many shambled after him.

this is a poignant post for me, lacking the wit i love to wield behind my words. but, it is my most outrageous revelation of this brand new year, one of several i’m sure i will stew on as my clock ticks toward 40…as i realize that i am what i’ve loved…as i become more outrageously me…and share it with outrageous you.

may we all live out loud and with passion, my fellow dingledodies…and the self-awareness to feel it.

shaving my legs with Occam’s Razor

Standard

i’m struggling this morning, emotions sitting right at the surface of my face, the rims of my eyes…it’s all so very complicated.

we say a lot about simplicity, that the simplest lives are the most admirable, the happiest. well, guess what? sometimes we don’t get to choose simple. (i can talk myself in circles here about what we “choose” or “draw” into our lives to serve us and teach us life lessons…more on that later). i know that i could simplify my life in a lot of ways…but not without substantial emotional sacrifices…sacrifices that several people would have to make based on my choices. i’m not talking about a standard of living or of “needing” career progression or a cool car. i get that “stuff” is not happiness, that simplifying the “stuff” right out of your life is a worthy endeavor and that measures of success are ours to define.

but some things in life only get so simple…and most of those hardest ones involve people. again…we can talk about simplicity, of cutting out toxic relationships that don’t feed your soul, further your purpose or nurture your relationship with your Self…even family gets the ax if they treat us badly enough. i’ve even had people whom i thought pretty spiritual tell me that if i want to own simplicity and the health of my Self, i could choose to abandon all of what i think of as my “responsibilities” and go meditate for decade in the East somewhere…like Siddhartha did. but something about my little 2 year old “responsibility” tells me that’s just not the choice to make for fulfillment and enlightenment. and here’s where we first start to butt heads with complexity. how much toxicity must be present in a relationship before it’s time to let go? how much complexity do we accept in order to support the give and take, the unconditional acceptance that we say is the purpose of family, Love and compassion? what about when it’s your daughter’s family?

i’m a co-parenting rookie with a well-intended teammate. the complexity of raising a child in two households appears to be unavoidable, especially with two brand new parents on this field of play, in a game that started in the child’s infancy, nuanced with all kinds of different rules depending on who you ask, what level you are on, and the character you choose to embody. it’s the challenge of a couple trying to invent and practice new dance steps while they each listen to different music and a different cheering section…and where nobody wants to have to turn to the expensive Officials in order to make or enforce rules. i want the best for my daughter and right now, that means accepting complex logistics, complex feelings and complex choices that impact several parties.

i’ve always had a hard time deciphering self-care from self-ish choices. this co-parenting complexity makes that even harder. it’s all so damn complicated. it would be easy for me to choose a victim role if i was so inclined…but i’m not. i’m still looking for the simplest answer to each complex question, trying not to blame…trying to own the choices i have, and continue Loving like it’s my job (because it is).  perhaps that’s why i chose this complex life, back out in the cosmos, when my soul was deciding what to learn on this particularly trip around the 3rd rock. perhaps i’m meant to traverse the edge of Occam’s Razor, slicing up shins until i learn how to fall on the simple side…it does mean that my life is never dull…if that’s worth anything. i hope so because i’m pretty sure i asked for that. i’ve said plenty a commonplace thing, but never asked for a commonplace life…i Love the blue centerlights that pop in my world and make me go “Awww!” and i love the idea of being that for someone else occasionally.

my outrageous life isn’t simple…except that i simply love to live. and that’s worth everything…even the complexity of this day.