could have slept on the beach...

i remember being sad
about the pigeons
the passenger pigeons
who are gone now
all their little souls
wingless and running
in a place
that they don't understand

_________________________________

poems are pebbles
stones that i find throughout the day
and put in my pocket
hot stones
cold stones
sharp stones
and soft stones, too
stones without souls
and stones who are happy
frustrated stones
mongolian throat singing stones
misunderstood stones
and stoned stones
my pockets are very heavy
and my hands don't fit
because there is
too much beauty
in there.

lovely

I think it has been about a week since I blogged last. It feels like this quarter is in reverse, and all of my work has to be done at the beginning as opposed to the end. But I have loved every minute of it.

I only wanted to comment on the color of the sky today. It is blue. Which should come as no surprise. But it is different in San Diego. It isn't just "blue" or "kinda blue with some clouds". There are absolutely no clouds, and it stretches out above you like some great upside down Caribbean Sea. I almost expect to see upside-down flying fish and upside down pirate ships go sailing by.

Today in a word: lovely.

how to properly un-curse a bottle of wine

It was supposed to have been for a special occasion. I'm not superstitious, but I am. So here goes:

Putting things into motion...
A month or so ago, I picked out a nice bottle of wine, in anticipation of perhaps imbibing of it with someone specific. I realized as soon as I touched it that it was cursed, but I couldn't bring myself to not buy it... There was some sort of little monster in the bottle, and our conversation went like this:

Wine monster: Look at me! I'm really drinkable and you know I go well with chocolate and black and white movies! Hehehehehe!

Me: I like your label.

Wine monster: Take me home! What if she wants to come over tonight! You'll neeeeeed me!

Me: I'm not even sure she wants to come over.

Wine monster: Oh, she is so into you. She digs you. You know it.

Me: But maybe it was just one of those things?

At this point the Wine monster begins singing "It was just one of those things" and the old lady buying brandy gives me a funny look. I put the wine in the basket. It feels wrong.

Wine monster: Oooohhhhh yeah. She is so yours.

Me: Shut up.

I take the wine home. It sits on the shelf. And sits on the shelf. And gives me a hard time about everything. The date it was intended for never happens, and every night the wine monster sings me old songs... "just one of those things" "can't get started" "I don't stand a ghost of a chance with you", songs like that. So I stick him someplace where I can't hear him: under the bathroom sink.

The un-cursing
It is annoying to have a wine monster under your bathroom sink. Especially one that is suddenly going through a show tunes phase. Sondheim in the shower. Andrew Lloyd Weber while your brushing your teeth. So I decide it's time to un-curse this mother. So there were a few things I had to do.

Step 1: the people
It is impossible to un-curse a bottle of wine by yourself. Many have tried and many have failed. You just end up transferring the curse from the wine to your self. So you have to select a party with whom to drink. This is something that is intuitive. The people drinking the wine are divvying up the curse, weakening it by taking on a portion of it. It's like the reverse of inoculation. Inverse inoculation intoxication.

Step 2: the place
It was going to be my living room. I had no doubt about that. We put on some Dylan, because the wine monster didn't seem particularly fond of good music.

Step 3: the preparation
We were already a little bit drunk. Sort of like when old time doctors would give their patients a shot of whiskey before cutting of an appendage.

And then... you drink. The key to the drinking is that you have to enjoy it. It can't be sad or melancholy or bitter or jealous or anything like that. Drink, and enjoy, and the curse can't touch you.

So now, the next day, I am left wondering how well the curse is lifted. I have a little bit of a headache (understandable) and I have been humming "When You're a Jet" all morning. I'll check in with the others to see how they fared, but I think we may have been successful in our un-cursing.

...just one of those bells that now and then rings...

sweet disaster (some old poems)

you should / drop your unhappiness / like stones / upon the earth

consciousness / pounds / us all

with her hair up / she gave me a look / traveled from my fingertips / through my bones / up my spine / to the back of my brain / chooses to rest / on my lips

the old news of it all / a diner / a full moon / it could have rained / and that would have made it different / the wreck of the ella fitzgerald

chet baker / fell out of a window in amsterdam / at the same time / that i fell / in love / but not really / it was only the sound of something like love / a harmon mute / some old song

you know i like you / when i write you poems

at least / it is tomorrow morning / and not last night

unrequited / requited / unrequited

rules of the all-night write

it is coming up, it has been awhile, and it is needed. here are the rules:

1. you think it, you write it. no filters. all colors.

2. coffee. black. french press.

3. all of your loves and monsters will guide you through places you've never been. open your eyes and look around, and write with all of your senses. Taste things that you think you should feel and see things that you think you should hear.

4. don't stop. music helps. if you get stuck, let a song push you in a random direction. if you do stop, make sure its only for a short dancing break.

5. read it out loud. speak it, then write it, then speak it again. you can be narcissistic, its ok.

6. sunlight.