WHERE'S MY SANDY BEACH?

A musical mash-up — or is it more of a merry-go-round thing? — in my head this morning. Must Have Been The Roses by the Grateful Dead plus Heart of Full of Soul by the Yardbirds plus Rufus Wainwright's version of Hallelujah.

Days later.

Look at me! At the airport so early, I have time to burn. I have already begun my consumption of useless vacation calories with a stupidly expensive not-very-good caffe latte and coffee cake, which is already making me sick. Wheeeeee.

I am on my way to Oakland for a couple of days' parental care respite. This is the first time I have been away from Janet since December. Janet is toughing it out by herself and we will see how that goes. She will enjoy not being dictated to.

I woke up too early as I transposed the time of departure. I probably got up too early anyway. I did have Butterscotch purring loudly and making a lot of enthusiastic bread on my arm. She'd be great in a bakery. In other Butterscotch news ...

... a digression here...

I did something big and significant in my life last week. I decided to end my participation in a project I had been working on for 12 years. I will likely write more about it at another time, but this was a traumatic event that caused plenty of tears and breast-beating. Coincidentally or not, I also went to four yoga classes in a week. After not having done any significant practice since about 2005, I was amazed at my dexterity and flexibility. Lots of hip and heart-opening, backbends and baby inversions.

Part of my superstitious ritual is to wash my sheets and dry them in the sunshine to get some psychic freshness. I did so on Monday, and woke up on Tuesday to a crisp linens. At my head was Butterscotch sweetly, deeply sleeping. Then I gave her a little stroke, whereupon she woke and started a puking process in my face on my clean sheets. I did manage to get her on to the floor, but I did find this cosmically hilarious.

Monday night's yoga class was intense for me. I have muscle aches in places I had forgotten I had muscles. I am still achy today. Still, I think yoga practice is a good direction for me to pursue along with swimming, so if I can find the money I will continue.

Now, here's a weird one in the music land. I still have Wake-Up Sad as a lower level in my consciousness, but as I walk around the airport, I hear Kansas City in my head. Maybe I am going to Oakland City and that's the connection.

I also snagged a good copy of the first Pretenders album. Damn Jackson, that is one hell of a good piece of music. I listened to it three times in a row, beginning to end, blasting it as I drove to LAX to pick up Kim. Brilliant art. Mystery Achievement. 

As I haven't any poetry with me on this trip, we will have to settle for song lyrics.

Mystery achievement 

Don't breathe down my neck no 

I got no trophies on display 

I sign them away 

I mean what the heck 

All of your promises 

Don't fill me with pride no 

I just wanna get out on the floor 

And do the Cuban slide, slide, slide, slide

But every day, every nighttime I find 

Mystery achievement 

You're on my mind 

And every day, every nighttime I feel 

Mystery achievement you're so unreal

Mystery achievement 

Where's my sandy beach? Yeah 

I had my dreams like everybody else 

But they're out of reach 

I said right out of reach 

I could ignore you 

Your demands are unending 

I got no tears on my ice cream but you know me 

I love pretending

But every day, every nighttime I find 

Mystery achievement 

You're on my mind 

And every day, every nighttime I feel 

Mystery achievement you're so unreal

In thrift store land, I scored some excellent mid-century modern tables for KMH for the low low price of $18.00.

ONLY WHAT IS LOST HELD

The song in my head (certainly not in my heart) is so bad. cursing you with it would be an outright sin. It's a beautiful day here. I am about to get dressed and go spend a bit of birthday money on a Dark Star Lilac that is supposed to do well in Southern California. And then maybe I will get to it and get that wisteria into the ground as I have mostly pulled up the tomato plant where I plan to put the wisteria.

In other gardening news, the fragrant roses, although still not in their permanent home, are about to bloom. I am trying to decide if I can stand to pull out the popcorn cassia and put the fig tree there, in the corner.  You can just see it, the yellow flowers, to the far left there. The fig tree is pricey, so I really have to decide it I want it.


Day later. So far, no fig tree. I went to one of my favorite nurseries and only bought what I had on hold and one other thing. That was pretty big for me.

Monday has been hectic. Janet had a neurology appointment at 9:15, which I had forgotten had been changed to next Monday. All that hustling in vain. Then, off to the gym to get that out of the way. Errands while Janet was in the gym and after. My bed isn't made, the dishes aren't done, there is a pile of books on the table that had to be cleaned due to cats acting out and pissing on them.

I am taking just a moment to sit on the couch, which I rarely do.Vera has joined me. Kayla the dog is not barking. I can hear airplanes, high and in the distance, and the chirping of birds.

I need to get over to my gym and exercise.

I am reading a book I highly recommend, Straying by Molly McCloskey. The NYT review doesn't really do the book justice, as it is about so much more than the plot outline. I didn't get into it immediately and almost returned it to the library unread. Glad I didn't.

Oh, wow. Many many days later.

I think I forgot to take my meds last night, which means that I didn't sleep very well. I also woke up early. Waking up early is good, but, in my ever-quest to justify and rationalize, I also need some energy. After two cups of espresso, I think I could go back to sleep about now, but Janet and I are headed for haircuts. Hopefully, there is a nap and then productivity in my future.

Almost a week later.

The promised pleasure of a nap is nearly overwhelming. It is so quiet, even the freeway noise is insignificant. There is a sweet breeze which cause the nasturtiums to bop and sway. From my desk here, all looks luxe, calme, et volupte in the garden there. If I turn my head a bit, the dirt and weeds come to the fore, and thence disrupting the delicious syrup of momentary delusional denial. Idris's bird bell tinkles as she chases butterflies.

Leonard Cohen (among others no doubt) has some wise words about showing up to write every day. That was my original impetus for this blog. I find it very difficult. Writing a bit a day is achievable, but the other things that go into a posting take more time.

A camellia from Descanso Gardens.

Wake Up Sad. Today's song is likely unknown to most of you. Except for Charlie S and maybe Wendy, I would bet most of you have never heard of The Wild Colonials. I've been up for hours, so it wasn't what I woke up to, it has just been a refrain all day. (Lyrics at the very end, should any of you be intrigued.)

I need to get to the gym and then get Janet to hers. No napping for me, although only I would be the wiser, knowing that I had not achieved much of anything today.

SO DIFFERENT

A tree is lightly connected
to its blossoms.
For a tree it is
a pleasant sensation
to be stripped
of what's white and winsome.
If a big wind comes,
any nascent interest in fruit
scatters. This is so different
from humans, for whom
what is un-set matters
so oddly—as though
only what is lost held possibility.


— Kay Ryan, The Best of It: New and Selected Poems, New York, Grove Press, 2010.

A pretty from Descanso Gardens. I think it is a river lily, California native.

WAKE UP SAD

Don't tell me you can't help it
You're old enough to know the score
Why'd you need the love so much
If they fall, you hate the touch
What's the problem in your soul
Leaves a gaping deep black hole
Why'd you need so much attention?
You hate it when I try to mention
How it's something not to play with
Don't pretend there's just a little

Don't tell me you can't help it
You're old enough to know the score

You know one day you'll wake up sad
You know one day you'll wake up sad
You know one day you'll wake up sad

Don't tell me you can't help it
You're old enough to know the score
When you can't destroy their will
Keep on fighting 'til you kill
Call me so good call me weak
Do anything to hear you speak
Why'd you pick the easy way?
Never believe a thing you say
Have to wonder deep inside
What it is you try to hide

Don't tell me you can't help it
You're old enough to know the score
You know one day you'll wake up sad
You know one day you'll wake up sad

So don't tell me that you love me