passing back through in november

okay, i went back to school (twice, maybe three times) and i missed you! and i remembered what i forgot, forgot what i remembered, and came back to visit.
i wanted to tell you about how i spit recently, in a rehearsal room;
i wanted to tell you about the deep feelings of failure i wrestle with;
and about how i went into the woods and then came out to think about the woods.
there's so much i want to tell you!
i took a class last year on art as political change, like this: http://artaspoliticalchange.blogspot.ca/
i have seen a thousand thousand things since i have seen your faces
i have gotten lost a hundred times.
maybe getting lost is my artistic practice.
maybe i'm not lost at all.

i wanted to tell you about how my mom is getting older, and my grandmother has dementia,
and i made a solo performance piece about how i asked my grandmother about slavery in our family history because i am trying to think and fight my way through whiteness and my own personal history, how whiteness happened to us and to whom i owe reparations yet somehow also acknowledging an inherent worth...anyway, i made a piece about it.
i wanted to tell you that i am living in toronto! in a second-floor apartment that isn't a commune, but it's nice, and it's above a vacuum cleaner store.

i wanted to tell you about my dreams and how i'm scared of getting older and i'm a kid forever and i have like these waves of nostalgia and i also try to thank my way to falling in love with the world just about every day, or every week
i'm taking a break from falling in love with a person; i have fallen so hard so many times and for now i am flying solo and it is strange and different;
i'm reading papers on queer ecology and books with titles like "why we dance" (ha) and "research theatre: the ecocide casebook." i'm studying performance ethnography--like how to know people by making performance with/about them. i'm reminded heuristically of my obsession with communalism and my love for making things with friends.
i notice being older! like, seeing people in their early 20's and i'm not there!
that is another post.
i made a zine about being 28; but i think i lost it. now i'm 29!

things i still love: cooking, love, patches, edges, exploring, laughing, sitting on the kitchen floor
things i'm trying out: graduate school, institutional affiliation, living closer to my parents, menu plans, making soup stock and freezing it, having a smart phone, not going to therapy, being 'single', cycling back to posting on this blog.

mary oliver reminds me

When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider
the orderliness of the world. Notice
something you have never noticed before, 

like the tambourine sound of the snow-cricket
whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb. 

Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain,
shaking the water-sparks from its wings. 

Let grief be your sister, she will whether or not.
Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also,
like the diligent leaves. 

A lifetime isn't long enough for the beauty of this world
and the responsibilities of your life. 

Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance. 

In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling. 

Live with the beetle, and the wind. 

reflections on "beasts of the southern wild"

(from my journal--in kings beach on lake tahoe where the fuck what the fuck where are the pinenuts)

WILD a wrenching ode to dysfunctional whole lives in place loyal to death, invaded by colonizers social service "health" "care"--not animal, yes civilization--NOTHING RIGHT destruction rampant death everywhere & is it inevitable? as the earth rears up? is the father right? tribal king-daughter of a wasteland home, survivalist ethic disrupted by mandatory eviction kicking & screaming--& the other dream sparkles with alcohol & "barely" & fire. why live if not with fire? ultimately we are our own & what is there but to care for our own?


i'd recommend it if you can go see it.
on a mad ridiculous search for pinenuts, to nevada today...

i can walk barefoot, i can

hi friends, hi sneezing cat.

i have been spending a lot of time in my house, it is quiet quiet here. i awake to the sounds of quiet voices and coffee grinding and when i get up i can play loud music and dance around half-naked and there is no one home, or so i think--cats wandering around doing their cat business, books lying luxuriating waiting to be read, worlds and jars of beans sitting quiet.

i am not sure what i am doing here sometimes,

sometimes i am not sure

i watch the sun slink around

the moon's fingernails grow

last night i saw a dance show about love by hand2mouth

it was called "something's got ahold of my heart"

it had four parts--greatest hits, stories, dance, concert.

i did not see my kinds of love there.

there were lots of old songs, lots of dissonance and interruption,

people dancing to adele on their headphones while old love songs blared loudly

straining in opposite directions with their arms clasped around each other

very few kinds of unmediated moments.

i thought, i could do this or something i'd like better.

i'm not sure on days like today if it's still winter, it is so sunny and warmish outside. am i in california?! i'm pretty sure not

cause things aren't free

most things

except for bike rides

and because over and over i find myself surrounded by people

mumbling about fermentation and their sourdough culture and soaking grains

and their gardens and occupy

and buying eco-friendly cleaning products

and their cool co-op whatever

and their new diet where they're not eating any of the bad stuff

geez

portland

i have been in clownface more often than not.

sometimes it is a mask, sometimes it is to say

"yes i am here and i have interiority and you can feel strange sitting by me"

at new seasons the cashier giggled and averted her eyes

i imagined that it was because i am jesus christ

yesterday when i was in bed

masturbating

i imagined i was huge huge huge, sitting atop buildings

someone was getting me off with a wrecking ball

bouncing off my clit

i was talking to my mom yesterday about polyamory and said something like "i return often to something you said when we were kids--like 'why does it hurt you for that person to have that [crayon, experience, new toy, etc.]? it doesn't hurt you.' she laughed and said, 'eliot, people and hearts are different than boxes of crayons!'" but then she got it too. she is a good carrier of reminders to not be so hard on myself.

i want a break from taking a break

i am ready to work really fuckin hard

stop having my heart and mind be the source of all of my hardnesssss

i want to get my hands dirty

feel things growing slowly

stories that run with blood and hair

water the only thing that stagnates

and now you are and i am now

some time has passed indeed! i have been on the road, traveling mightily quick-n-slow-sometimes...i left ethan and steve (the other post-windward buddies) on an early cold morning in seattle and trekked out to federal way to pick up my first ride at a freeway ramp in federal way in the rain. [magical thing #1:] after a couple offers to take me like 10 miles a young pre-med student eager to flout her parents' authority by buying me a train ticket to portland; i got there in the pouring rain and talked to jbird on the phone and extended my ticket to eugene.

spent a couple days with alma and declan in their cozy eugenian world, town of co-ops and a sweet infoshop and freeschool and a volunteer-run foodbuying locallovefest called grower's market [magical thing #2 was being starving and wandering with alma in the rain trying to find the grower's market and stumbling upon some free incredible poppy seed onion things that led us to the market]...


eugene was wandering biking-in-the-rain, excited to make connections and follow up and find things to do, was a vegan cornbread stand and travelerpunk kids reading on the sidewalk,

[magical thing #3:] i visited the maitreya ecovillage (in eugene) and happened to run into a friend(sortof) from high school...while we weren't quite friends then, our paths converged now and wow dang what a good feeling, somehow; these days when people ask where i'm from there are so many layers of recency to pull back that i don't often get back to pittsburgh, to those days and that sphere and the people i knew then.

[magical thing #4] was shooting an email out to a rideshareperson just before leaving to hitch and hearing back from them immediately--jan jim june jed?--and then she picked me up and ended up driving me all the way to mount shasta, down through medford and mountains and trees and into a snowstorm. i rode on a mattress in the back trying not to put my smellysockfeet anywhere and listened to her and the other woman she picked up talk about amma, the hugging-guru-spiritual-leader they were both heading down to san ramon to visit.

[magical thing #5:] arriving in mount shasta, a solid foot of snow on the ground and i'm trudging through the snow with all of my stuff wrapped around me and snow peeking over the top of my rubber boots, trying to sneeze and roll a cigarette at the same time in some snowflake-free shadow of my body and someone stops a few feet away and says "hi." we end up standing in the snow for an hour talking about myths and lostness and where beauty is to be found and her name is amanda and i never see her again but she gives me her phone number and promises she'll try and find me a place to stay.


i sit outside the co-op for a couple hours with a sweet sign that reads "new travel buddy!" plus some other stuff and end up spending the night in the living room of david, this older white guy drummer who is thrilled to have someone to bounce his ideas about communism-capitalism-ascendantmasterdom-spiritualgrowth off of.

hitched down i5 to 299W across to the coast and then south on 101, thumb out
surrendering myself and hoping some friendly feelings of humanity would carry me to willits
and this process, of putting myself in a situation where i had no other way out of my situation except to rely on someone else
or some concept of a human family somehow,
(and through that discover a kind of interdependent independence--
a paradox that feels pretty alive.)

made it from shasta to willits in a day (magical things#6-10) and stayed with az (old friends! new goats! new songs! lukewarm baths and sprouted sunflower 'yogurt'! wheeee what delight...magical things abounded, probably at least up to #20) until thanksgiving we gave thanks and got in the car to go visit amma (the guru of hugging, saint of unconditional love--a rather cultish figure) down in san ramon--

san ramon to berkley to oakland (what a magical city sf/oakland/the bay is--
#21 free food in peoples' park
#22 wandering into the albany bulb artpark spectacular
#23 accidentally hitching
#24 meeting bernard from madison in berkeley
#25 unintentionally finding a place to live for a new friend
#26 happening to talk to someone kind of cool-looking who ended up becoming a fast friend and unlocking the infoshop for me
#27 glittercity and hilltops
#28-#35atleast more magic)

...to davis
and tomorrow to sacramento to fiddletown to safan ranch! i'm excited to be back in the dirt and among trees, a bit more quiet and i can unpack my stuff for the first time in a while. i dream in maps and trajectories.
doop-da-
maybe this is boring, sorry, full of small details,
moving fast singing on repeat, eschewing plans except where necessary,
making decisions from my heart and my stomach-gut region (somewhat difficult to understand sometimes).

i have been reading kirschenmann, this great farmer-philosopher-fellow
a moment where he says something like,
prayer is paying close attention to something, so closely attending that you forget yourself (your ego) for a while. not so different from coming to love, for instance, soil...really seeing all sides and processes inside & out, beyond and behind it, being in touch with the cycles of which it is a part, appreciating its past and future lives.
thinkin about that as i dig beds today and bumble around this quiet very white house...work that is a prayer, invisibly rewarding and transcendant of its mundanity. mmm.

love to all as
we are
and we are among mysteries that will never happen again,
miracles which has never happened before
and shining this our now must come to then