These Days.
This morning, I dreamed about making love to her in the grass. All of it blurred by; twisting, crying out, samples of her distorted voice warping my brain and disconnecting it from the rest of me, piece by piece, until I was some blissfully primal thing, obsessing over curves and angles and gripping hands and tangled limbs. Tension, urgency, fever, motion, emotion, giving, taking- all in a dreamy, vivid, half-lucid state that haunted me long after I woke.
I spent today in a broken, slowed-down virtual reality, going back and fourth from place to place, seeing people and never really finding their faces or names, but missing them when I went away. I drove a bit as the sun went down and saw the results of spring everywhere- I remembered being seven in my grandparents' backyard in my dirty sundress with my bare feet, walking through wet, green grass and over sharp dried oak leaves. I remember blue skies mottled by clouds and damp, rustling trees and watching the deer graze from behind dilapidated fenceposts. I remember stone, cement and the garden hose, watering the wildflowers and scaring ants from their holes. I remember sitting on the balcony on stormy days with my notebook, creating mythical beasts to hide in the cloudy mountains watching over the place I rested. I remember mint tea, sleeping cats and tarot cards.
I remember dreaming of Big Sur in the rain. I guess some things never change.
Listening to my mother's music- her mainstream, mostly American music- has provided a thin slice of comfort in the absence of mine. Any is better than none. I feel like it's easier to walk with a beat in my ears, easier to get through the day with the familiar swoop in my chest at a particularly fine melody. Call it brainwashed, if you will, but everyone has their muse, and music's mine.
Tonight I drove downtown and sat with Jennifer and Trevor on the pier drinking chai, watching the city lights flicker over the black water like treble and bass, the faint sound of sea lions wailing off buoys in the dark, and thought about dreaming of whales. Thought about life beyond the orange harbor glow and the clear purple sky flecked with hesitant stars. The vast world beyond my hazy, slow-motion city. How many people I love are out there, existing freely, each with their heart and soul in varying states of comfort or discomfort? How disconnected I truly feel, day after day, watching the ocean meet the sand, waiting for my own ship to set sail? Thinking of you, wherever you are...
On the drive home, I watched the orange waning moon rising lazily in my rearview mirror. I thought about the exact moment in my life I was currently living. I thought about what will have to change and what I'll fight to keep steady, no matter what it takes. I thought about looking into her eyes seventy-two hours from that moment, and had to stop for fear I would break from the yearning.
As I turned onto my street, a white squirrel darted out onto the road. It skittered and jolted, twisted irregularly as it crossed, and I watched it. It was far too agile, too strange. And then it turned into a plastic bag.
Have I been dreaming all this time?
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And now, for something a little more down-to earth.
February in California.
I took these while recovering from the flu. Being outside was about the best thing ever.
Dodger's new cut. I like his ears short, honestly, it's quite becoming (and a lot cleaner, too.)
My friend Rabia has this tiny, mellow old chihuahua she takes to school with her. I'm one of the few people she trusts to babysit her while she goes to buy lunch.
My mother bid on and won a miniature beagle puppy being sold at my little brother's school auction. These little slugs were born on March 7th, five boys and four girls. Mama Sadie did an amazing job.
One of them is mine. ♥
Hope you're all well.