I've been awake since around 4:40am. The moon was lovely outside my window, and Venus. I tossed and turned for a long while, my body achey. I've been trying to get the tension out of body with massages, chiropractic visits, stretching. I'm loosening slowly, the process is painful.
I went out with an old friend last night, had too much to drink and some old demons came back to piss me off. We were having a good time then something flipped and I went from being happy to morose. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the fact that after years I finally got to yell at my friend for old transgressions. He told me, among other things, that I'm too guarded and not trusting. Fair enough, in the context of our friendship. Or it was a jab to counter the ones I'd been sticking. I have a cruel streak. I know I do. Guarded, hmmm. I can agree with that, sober.
A poet I once studied with told me that in my writing I only allow myself vulnerability at the very end of a poem, just a peek of emotional insight. Maybe. I just looked at a poem I've been editing and I can see why someone would say that. I think there is a fine balance between being revelatory and mysterious. I want to dance that line. A character in a book I once read said something along the lines of a woman without mystery can never be truly beautiful. I think the same can be said about writing. Why read if there is nothing to be discovered? Why write if it isn't a way of exploring and learning oneself? Ugh. I hope I don't come off sounding like a guest on Oprah, all dazzled with my brilliance and shit. Once I have this damn poetry manuscript sorted out I'll read for vulnerability, see where it peeks out at me like one of those creepy/cute spirits in Miyazaki films. (see image above)
The morning is beautiful and clear. Outside the window crows are flying Northwest to wherever their daily hunting or playing grounds are. Every evening, before sunset, hundreds of crows fly Southeast. If you pay attention you can follow their line in the sky. I used to know where they roosted at night, it was terrifying and thrilling to be near. Thousands of crows cawing and flying. Murders upon murders of crows. The recent rains have made my balcony garden explode. Old seeds I didn't even know were hibernating have come life and my pots are rife with basil and dill, leaf lettuce. I love mornings and should spend more time in them.
To quote Seth in yesterday's Citybeat, "if (this video) doesn't make you laugh or cry you have no heart."