(no subject)
Today I feel fully saturated in lolita. I read the blogs, checked egl, looked at circle lenses.
I love lolita so much! I wish I had more time to sew and wear it.
Brian took me out to see Inception yesterday. I was feeling really bad cause I didn't go practice bartending, but as soon as I saw Brian my day instantly got soo much better.
I am doing laundry today and a bit of sewing and gardening. It's nice to have a day sitting around doing nothing.
Dreams though,
I wonder what the landscape of my brain looks like.
If there is a city, it is an old one. and when I navigate it, I don't walk the streets, I travel the tunnels and sewers and catacombs underneath it. The city has mostly libraries, schools, and history museums, none of them are new, the schools are too large and house too few students. The libraries are quiet except for a few rowdy boys who have had to grow up far too fast. The special collections rooms are always open and the attendants there are always ready with suggestions when you don't know where to start your search. The Dancehalls are open from midafternoon until next morning's sunrise, they start bright and cheery and then go bluesy and slow as the wee hours approach. Most have open air courtyards that breathe with bay breezes. It rains every afternoon for a brief time and then gives way to a misty pink dusk. There's no trash in the city, only neatly tended boxes of rotting compost, stirred and taken home for rooftop and windowsill gardens. There is a bank, but it is never open. The shops are all factories where people operate the machines that make the wares they sell, there is no way to buy something without seeing where it comes from. There is no way to really buy anything. Most things are traded or given away with a calling card hoping that the favor will be remembered and returned.
But I don't live in this city. I go there to work in my papermill/printshop, if I need to I sleep in the apartment upstairs with my assistants, but I live in the country. I have a compound where my family and I live, we have an orchard of peach, plum, pear, apple and cherry trees. We have a clinic for people and one for animals. We raise goats for milk, alpaca for wool, hens for eggs. We keep horses to ride and we raise rabbits, guinea pigs, and hogs to eat. I usually take care of the goats, rabbits and pigs. We have two peacocks to scare away foxes and chickenhawks, and a golden pheasant to keep the peacocks in line. There is a vegetable garden in the compound also. We have four mansions, a club house, and my tiny house, a gypsy's caravan that I use to escape to the forest or to the sea, when I need nothing but myself and my art. We live near a river, I ride a narrowboat down the canal that parallels it to get to the city.
My favorite place in that city is a temple. It is a worship place for the universe. There are no closed doors. The gate that surrounds it is only made of open archways inscribed with, "welcome to a holy place filled with love and peace" inside the gate is a graveyard, each burial is marked with a sparkling mirrorball and the field is covered with poppies, the temple is at the center of this field, and it seems to soar up towards the sky. It's filled with windows like the hagia sophia. Inside the temple monks are tapping out a madala of colored sand. It's bright and complex and colorful and transient. Bells, chimes, chants, and songs can be heard all the time. There are quiet rooms with sumptuous cushions, mats, and blankets for rest and meditation. There are rooms for dancing, moving, and whirling. There is a deep flowing fountain for swimming and bathing. There is sunshine everywhere.
The walls here know everything. They have seen the breaking and healing of human souls, they have seen births, marriages and deaths. They know what rebirth looks like. This is a place of no judgement, of honesty and trust and utmost sweetness. There are times when I wish I could never leave, but I walk among the living as well as the spirits. So I walk out to return time and again.
When I emerge I see everything with fresh eyes and my old, humble city is full of beauty and life again. There are impromptu jam sessions on street corners, people draw chalk murals on walls and sidewalks. There are rocking chairs and bench swings in front of factory showrooms in bright colors. When I go home I will collect bushels of peaches and baskets of cherries to give to those sweet boys with old souls in the library. When I go home I will polish a silver mirror to give to the cotton farmer. When I go home I will hug and kiss everyone so that they know that they are loved. But while I am still here, and while I still have the late afternoon sunshine I will dance with the world and enjoy the love that always there for me.
I love lolita so much! I wish I had more time to sew and wear it.
Brian took me out to see Inception yesterday. I was feeling really bad cause I didn't go practice bartending, but as soon as I saw Brian my day instantly got soo much better.
I am doing laundry today and a bit of sewing and gardening. It's nice to have a day sitting around doing nothing.
Dreams though,
I wonder what the landscape of my brain looks like.
If there is a city, it is an old one. and when I navigate it, I don't walk the streets, I travel the tunnels and sewers and catacombs underneath it. The city has mostly libraries, schools, and history museums, none of them are new, the schools are too large and house too few students. The libraries are quiet except for a few rowdy boys who have had to grow up far too fast. The special collections rooms are always open and the attendants there are always ready with suggestions when you don't know where to start your search. The Dancehalls are open from midafternoon until next morning's sunrise, they start bright and cheery and then go bluesy and slow as the wee hours approach. Most have open air courtyards that breathe with bay breezes. It rains every afternoon for a brief time and then gives way to a misty pink dusk. There's no trash in the city, only neatly tended boxes of rotting compost, stirred and taken home for rooftop and windowsill gardens. There is a bank, but it is never open. The shops are all factories where people operate the machines that make the wares they sell, there is no way to buy something without seeing where it comes from. There is no way to really buy anything. Most things are traded or given away with a calling card hoping that the favor will be remembered and returned.
But I don't live in this city. I go there to work in my papermill/printshop, if I need to I sleep in the apartment upstairs with my assistants, but I live in the country. I have a compound where my family and I live, we have an orchard of peach, plum, pear, apple and cherry trees. We have a clinic for people and one for animals. We raise goats for milk, alpaca for wool, hens for eggs. We keep horses to ride and we raise rabbits, guinea pigs, and hogs to eat. I usually take care of the goats, rabbits and pigs. We have two peacocks to scare away foxes and chickenhawks, and a golden pheasant to keep the peacocks in line. There is a vegetable garden in the compound also. We have four mansions, a club house, and my tiny house, a gypsy's caravan that I use to escape to the forest or to the sea, when I need nothing but myself and my art. We live near a river, I ride a narrowboat down the canal that parallels it to get to the city.
My favorite place in that city is a temple. It is a worship place for the universe. There are no closed doors. The gate that surrounds it is only made of open archways inscribed with, "welcome to a holy place filled with love and peace" inside the gate is a graveyard, each burial is marked with a sparkling mirrorball and the field is covered with poppies, the temple is at the center of this field, and it seems to soar up towards the sky. It's filled with windows like the hagia sophia. Inside the temple monks are tapping out a madala of colored sand. It's bright and complex and colorful and transient. Bells, chimes, chants, and songs can be heard all the time. There are quiet rooms with sumptuous cushions, mats, and blankets for rest and meditation. There are rooms for dancing, moving, and whirling. There is a deep flowing fountain for swimming and bathing. There is sunshine everywhere.
The walls here know everything. They have seen the breaking and healing of human souls, they have seen births, marriages and deaths. They know what rebirth looks like. This is a place of no judgement, of honesty and trust and utmost sweetness. There are times when I wish I could never leave, but I walk among the living as well as the spirits. So I walk out to return time and again.
When I emerge I see everything with fresh eyes and my old, humble city is full of beauty and life again. There are impromptu jam sessions on street corners, people draw chalk murals on walls and sidewalks. There are rocking chairs and bench swings in front of factory showrooms in bright colors. When I go home I will collect bushels of peaches and baskets of cherries to give to those sweet boys with old souls in the library. When I go home I will polish a silver mirror to give to the cotton farmer. When I go home I will hug and kiss everyone so that they know that they are loved. But while I am still here, and while I still have the late afternoon sunshine I will dance with the world and enjoy the love that always there for me.