Whoa circadian rhythm, what the eff? I took an unexpected hour-long nap sometime last night. I was adjusted yesterday and my shoulders felt like rainbows and unicorns for once. I fell asleep in front of the idiot box and woke up confused and eventually went back to sleep. The weekend is already looming very busy. I am debating myself already on whether to take a nap this afternoon to prepare for what may be a long night or if I should subject myself to the yearly hell that is swimsuit hopping.
I'm so exhausted I feel like I am sleepwalking through my days. I am going to try to remedy my fog with a massage today or tomorrow. The holiday threw my week off and I have been confused about days. Being confused is actually quite nice Keeps me on my toes. Or it would if I wasn't yawning all of the time.
I am loving kale chips, homemade. I like using red kale and halve the salt.
I've had this song in my head since Saturday. You have never been in love until you've the stars reflect in the reservoirs. .
Last night I saw Sweet and Tender Hooligans, a Smiths and Morrissey cover band play. The lead singer is called the Mexican Morrissey. I was pretty damn impressed. The guy had Moz down pat; the body language, the sway, pompadour and vocalizations were eerily authentic. I danced my bootie off. I've been a fan of the Smiths longer than I know. My aunt listened to them when I was a kid and I loved them then. Growing up in Chula Vista, everyone loved The Smiths. There is an interesting Chuck Klosterman article about the Mexican obsession with The Smiths and Morrissey.
I broke in my new bicycle yesterday with an 18 mile ride with my sister and Cecil. We started in Hillcrest with the intention of riding to Balboa Park and hanging out but decided to go the Farmer's Market in Little Italy, then we decided to ride down to the bay and after that is was a flash decision to ride to Point Loma Seafood for lunch and beer. The ride was not bad at all except the crazy hill at the end. I had to walk my bike up but other than that, I rocked it.
Last night I spent the evening with an old, great friend. E and I hadn't spoken or hung out in way too many months, he is a big busy lawyer these days, fighting for the underdogs. But we spent a few hours together and I felt like a dry sponge tossed into the ocean. I came alive for the first time in a long time. I spend a lot of time in the same patterns and forget the extraordinary. Last night I was reintroduced to the extraordinary; it was a long time coming and appreciated. My dreams were vivid and I woke up smiling.
As I was falling asleep I received a drunk dial. I was entertained.
I've had a headache on and off for four days and it is not a good thing. I woke up in the middle of the night with pain behind my left eye shooting all the way to the back of my head. Lame. I'm hydrated, I eat well, it just may be some sort of seasonal thing or whatever.
I am not a huge fan of pop culture but I really did want Adam Lambert to win on American Idol last night. I got into watching the competition because he is the son of a local writer and neighbor of mine, Eber. Son of a friend or not, Adam is amazing vocalist and I am pretty disappointed that he didn't win. He sang with Kiss and Queen. Holy crap. I let myself dork out and yelled at the television and indulged a less-serious side of myself for a couple of hours. Now back to vulgar, more serious self.
My wrist is still injured and has had me in a crappy mood.
I am in lust. With a baguette from Vo's. I don't even like sandwiches, eating them annoys me, too many factors to deal with: bread, filling, the holding it all together. . . But there are exceptions to this rule and Vo's baguette is the winner. I wasn't even hungry but I had to keep eating it lest the deliciousness never happen to me again.
The sugar alien is back. Yesterday after posting that he was missing I got a text message letting me know the sugar alien was in my spice cabinet. Thanks dearest blog reader who puts things where they don't belong. Don't let it happen again.
I'm having a little trauma that is very adolescent. Nine pimples. Not little blemishes but big, red zits that appear before things like prom, picture day and other important events. Maybe there is a very big important event coming up that I am not aware of, so my face has gone all 90's on me in preparation. That or my hormones went buck wild after watching that Ricki Lake documentary on natural childbirth. . .
I'm fighting malaise tooth and nail these days by bike riding, cooking, reading. It may be the gray in the weather or time of year. It may be that I haven't traveled since last July. It may be a great many things but I'm not letting it take root. I have too much going on. Or, maybe new poetry is circling in me, stirring things up, a shark in a shallow bed. Or the hormones rupturing my face have something to do with it.
I discovered Madeleine Peyroux through an internet radio station and dig her voice very much.
My blue sugar alien is missing this morning and I am not happy about it. The sugar alien was gift and the best sugar holder ever. This morning around 5am there were strange noises on my roof, so strange that I got out of bed, put on my bathrobe and went outside to the alley to see who the hell was on the roof. Whoever they were, they got away, with my sugar alien apparently. Bring him back! Morning coffee isn't the same without the blue smiling face of my designer Italian sugar alien next to me!
I found a new favorite term yesterday while browsing the science section of the news. Neutron star crust. Allegedly it is supposed to b stronger than steel but who cares? The four syllables that make up the three words rock my psychic universe. Gamma rays are somehow involved as well so I was a giddy thing as gamma ray is another favorite term of mine. Say it aloud, you'll fall in love with it in your mouth as well.
The weekend looms emptier than I assumed it would. I went to bed somewhat early and had my usual middle of the night arguments with ghosts. Regardless, I woke up with the sun and have been contemplative and enjoying the silence.
Yesterday I was saving the poems from April and was surprised to see how I have forgotten most of them. A few lines bubble up but in general they are out of my head. I'm very tempted to open them and see how they affect me but it is still too soon. Instead I'll finish a couple of loose ended essays that have lurking around, waiting patiently to come into their own. But aren't we all?
After the morning writing I will go buy new plants for my balcony. One of my ivies has a disease and I just can't revive it. My sage is healthy and needs to be transfered to a bigger pot. My African Fire Sticks are phenomenal. My jasmine sad. The biggest shock is that I didn't kill my orchids. They survived the winter. A few nights I had to cover them but they are thriving. Yay for worm castings!
Tom Waits went to my high school. He also waited tables at my favorite pizza place in National City, Napleones. It is a Tom Waits kind of morning, gray but deliciously so. My solitude is practically sweeping me off my feet, I am so in love with my aloneness today.
Last night B and I went to a very fancy cocktail party in a fancy part of town. Among the many observations I made I noticed that I was the only woman drinking a beer, out of the bottle no less. I was not aware of the unspoken feminine rule to drink fruity drinks with straws or white wine. No, I was the woman in the itty-bitty cocktail dress swigging IPA. Being at the very fancy party gave me plenty of time to realize that I am not at all the fancy party type of woman. What a scene. I'm thankful and grateful that the people in my life don't look over my shoulder while they talk to me to see if someone better has walked into the room, or candle-laden veranda, or whatever.
The days are filling and also passing quickly. I've had little time to myself lately but that is going to change soon. Serious book reading forthcoming, as well as solitude. After this weekend. Reading in Spanish does something to my mind that makes me want to write. That is a very good thing.
Days have been busy and not busy all at once. Las Vegas with the family was lovely, exhausting but lovely. I had one of those sublime moments that brought tears to my eyes. I'm writing about it and hope to publish it. Famous last words but I really do think this piece has potential.
I'm very much in love with Best Contemporary Mexican Fiction. I picked it up in L.A. a few weeks ago and have finally dipped into it. This one will take a while. It needs to be savored and held. The writing is mesmerizing. The work appears untranslated and translated so that I can read both. I prefer the writing in Spanish, the language is more nuanced and haunting. It makes me want to revisit the short story form. I know that good writers can make anything look easy but I really did enjoy writing short stories. I have a few of them saved around here somewhere.
Something feels like it is about to happen. It is buzzing around behind my head and has been for a few days. Maybe I just have expectations or desire something to happen. I don't know. I often get this sensation of being on the verge of something often it comes into fruition and sometimes it doesn't.
Ah, off to Las Vegas tomorrow morning for Mother's Day since my mom wants to go visit my baby sis in sin city. I'm not too into LV but this is what my mom wants to do, so I'm off. My other sister and an aunt will be joining us. I have an idea for a little piece I want to write about an oasis I found last time we were there so I may distract myself with that.
Last night I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and hated it. I don't understand why so many people raved about it. Ug. The characters weren't really believable. There was no spark or chemistry between Pitt and Blanchett. The writing was just bad. It was a cross between Forest Gump and The Notebook. I felt as is they movie was trying very hard to be moving, eloquent and poetic and ended up creaking, being trite and annoying. Three hours of my life I'm never getting back. And I vehemently hate Hollywood portrayals of what romantic love should be like. I want to get a slingshot and pummel love scenes. I'm not just being bitter party of one, even involved I hate that shit.
Oddly enough I am feeling somewhat isolated after National Poetry Month. As frustrating as it often was, writing a poem a day kept me on my toes and linked to specific community. I was reading other writing daily and had a dialogue open with other writers I know. Now that it is over I am feeling a little lonely sitting on the computer in the morning with nothing in particular to check out. I still haven't looked over my poems but look forward to. B thinks there are enough for another chapbook; I think he had so much fun working on the first he would love another project. N.F.L. Not for Lizz.
I've swooned back into a Gabriel Garcia Marquez short story collection and am drunk on the language. Pour me up another, love.
Okay, it's a holiday, kind of, but not independence day for Mexico, that would be September 16. Cinco de Mayo was the battle of Puebla. The Mexican Army defeated the French army on this day in 1862. Somehow Cinco has become a crazy weird holiday where people get really drunk. I have personally never celebrated it.
I have not written in a journal since November. I have journaled consistently for years and now the chronology ends in November. Not that anything very interesting has happened the last seven months but I'm kind of bummed at myself for not writing down the details and observations of my life. I've been a mostly consistent blogger but all the good stuff that would be only in my journals is now lost. Time to start over.
I am feeling Summer. Feels really good. I'm wearing dresses again and get to be feminine. I love it. I love love love summer.
Yesterday La Creep and I went to the Healing Arts Festival in Balboa park and took advantage of the freebies. We both had free tarot readings and I had a free past-life regression. We probably would have been better off if we hadn't been sitting next to each other during our tarot readings since I had to bite my lips to not laugh when La Creep's psychic started checking her aura and I probably threw my psychic off. My past-life regression was pretty interesting. I've been hypnotized before and can go into trance pretty easily. I don't know if it was the past-life or what but I had some pretty horrendous dreams last night.
I've been holding a lot of things inside for a long time and it is becoming very clear to me I have to do some searching and cleansing. I block myself from my own writing because I refuse to be honest with myself. Vulnerability is not something I like too much anymore. I have to convince myself to write my way into strength, if that makes any sense. My dreams last night made a lot of things clear, weirdly. I woke up enraged in the middle of a couple of dreams. But, that was knowledge moving up into my brain, letting me know what's up.
Hungover as hell this morning after much, much, way too much wine last night. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. La Creep and I over did it and this morning we are both over done.
If my head doesn't feel like there is a roller derby going on inside of it later I may try to make it to Cindy Pon's book signing at Yellow Book Road. Cindy and I were in the same novel writing class a few years ago. I loved the excerpts of her book, Silver Phoenix, back the and I am super thrilled it was published. I can't wait to read the entire thing.
National Poetry Month is over and I am relieved. Commiting to write a poem a day for thirty days was waaaay more draining than I thought. I almost gave up a few times but the always impressive B made sure I didn't slack. Out of the thirty poems I ended up with over 40 drafts and out of those I think maybe 10 have potential to go somewhere. Regardless, the exercise was good for my brain. I have a couple of favorites but I'm not going to go back and look at them for a month or two so that I can approach them with fresh eyes and do the editing I have to do.
I received my acceptances for VONA. I was accepted to both weeks but can probably only afford one week. Decisions. The emails are flying between the Pan Dulce writers trying to figure out which week we should go to or if we should go to both. I miss the Pan Dulce writers with all of my heart. We met years ago at VONA and dubbed ourselves Pan Dulce after an un-sober conversation about Breadloaf. I laugh so hard with them that my stomach muscles hurt for days after we leave each other. I think I may take the Ana Castillo Residency since I have already taken a workshop with her. I'll be able to spend a week working with her one on one. I'll probably concentrate on my novel. *sigh* Oh novel, you are my insomnia, aren't you?
The Jeffrey McDaniel reading last night at SDSU was great. I think I was the only person who showed up who wasn't a student. I met some very cool people and we went out to dinner afterwards. I realized I should know more writers and spend time with more writers. I love being alone but have isolated myself a little too much the last year or so.
The weekend promises to be exhausting. La Creep and Baby D arrive this afternoon. Drinks with La Creep tonight, maybe meet some Couchsurfers afterwards for more drinks. My phenomenal and brilliant Chiropractor Dr. Beau is having his anniversary party tomorrow night and I may go to that (love and congratulations to Dr. Beau on his engagement! He was so happy over it he made me cry.) Sunday is the Healing Arts Festival in Balboa Park, Ozomatli is playing. I am one busy woman.