Categories
dance love personal

You close your eyes as I fall asleep

Mornings thin like paper the sun shines through,
too short and fragile and bright and young.
We wake up smiling, instinctually,
and feel skin against skin and warmth and birdsong,
and the sunlight makes motes against your face
through the blinds, and I trace with my eye the
strong features around your jawline.
You’re a stoic in the morning, before your eyes open,
carved from clay and light and flesh and fire,
and when your eyes open they burn holes through me.

Today I’m caught up in the sunshine, in this premature summer that’s graced our door, and the warmth of the colors of the grass and water and sky, and I’m caught up in watching great big puffballs of clouds patiently edge their way across the horizons. For them, life is nothing but the journey, and they may dissolve into light and air at any moment. We’re but ash and bone. Their beauty is intrinsically tied to their brevity. This doesn’t make it convulsive.

When I dance I think of you, and how limbs can tie together so thoroughly that they’ll never be untangled, like smiles, and how my hand feels on your back when the music goes slow and the world fades away to faces and voices, and we all just float. Sometimes I’m surprised by how solid things are, when the lights come back on and reality has its way again.

And sometimes I’m surprised by how much dreams persist.

Categories
love personal poetic

What archives are for

I blog because there’s a monster inside me, and he rips apart my insides.

I blog because I’ve got to let the air out.

I blog because sometimes I whisper in your ear as we lay together quietly in the mornings, and you’ve not yet awoken, and so I go unheard.

I blog because the sun is shining and I just look at it out the window.

I blog because I’m not an organ stop.

————

Flipping through the archives, remind me of those hot summer days and the way the cicadas made their thunder in the grass, of the tears and the sweat, all salty, mingled together and the palms that couldn’t seperate, like Shakespeare. Remind me of the words I spoke, and those writ, and what that all meant to me at the time; the world was coming to an end and I sailed off the edge of the map, and I remembered Sisyphus, and I called him uplifting. Theo responds, “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

Sometimes I do both.

Remind me of the thunderstorms in Boulder, punctual little beasts of an hour’s length, i’ve just stopped in to make love to the mountains, and then i’ll be on my way, and how the sun shone after like it was preening, as if we’d never seen it before, like a child with a shiny new bike; and I wonder what the view is like above the clouds, now moving east past the peaks.

Remind me of how I got here, and why. And somehow everything seems so clear now, as though the veil were lifted and my purpose laid bare to the universe, nackt vor der Welt. As though I’ve waited for this, culmination of all the wishes I’ve ever made on stars (a thousand stars over a thousand nights), and now I’m lost in them. If they ever wished on me, I grant the stars their dreams.

Remind me that life is here and now and good.

Remind me that this has always been true;

that it always will be.

Categories
love personal poetic work

Rhymes with “fava”

… and lava, and java, and guava, and brava, and kava. It’s kind of suprising how many things rhyme with bava, if you think about it. Of course, “bava” may not technically be a word (Dictionary.com doesn’t recognize it), so I may be cheating. But just maybe.

First, my abject apologizies for my sloth-ee bloggerness lately. I’m a mean and horrible person and should be divested of all my joys and successes. Or perhaps you’ll simply say, “Meh, whatever, I just read this sheit ’cause I get bored at work,” and I can happilly move along with my life, and all its little joys and successes can remain intact. Your call, folks. My eternal well-being is now in your hands. Be gentle.

So why have I been so reticent, of late? I blame it on the entire female gender, but could probably narrow it down to one woman in particular, if I really put an effort into it. Which I won’t. So, really it all started with Eve (if you go for that “Garden of Eden” creation thing), and the problem just sort of ballooned from there. And honestly, this whole “female gender” problem, or rather, this one woman who takes up all my time, is entirely worth every second, and I’m having the best time. Ever. So, really, I don’t regret for a minute (maybe 43 seconds or so, though) my blog-slackitude. Rest assured that if there were 96 hours in each day, I would most certainly devote at least 2 of them entirely to blogging, as I really do enjoy it quite a bit. As there are only 24 in each day, I end up with 2 hours every 4 days, and that will just have to do. For now.

But I’ve been loving writing the micro-fiction every week. I hope you have been enjoying reading them. I spoke with my friend Joseph, who’s the most prolifically creative person I know, and he may start submitting some micros, and get some friends in on it as well, so we may get quite the creative upswing soon in that department. I’m quite excited. Quite.

In other news, we had our poker night last night. Since I had to be at work by 8 this morning, I wasn’t too excited about playing for long, and thus was the first to get knocked out. If you’re not feeling poker, you’ll lose. This seems to be a logical fact. Anyway, our friend Adam brought some home brew over, and we listened to some good music, and had our guy’s night and rollicked (very manly rollicking, mind you) and it was good. I took a metric snapton of photos, and glancing at them this morning, some turned out pretty good, so I’ll throw some up here as soon as I get the opportunity.

Finally, and this is also a reason I’ve been a bit too busy to blog, I applied for a new job as a “Community Library Assistant I” at the Timberland Library in Yelm. It’s a bit of a drive, but the job is full-time with benefits and decent if not stupendous pay, so I think it will be fully worth it. More importantly, it seems like a really solid position where I could learn a lot and get some very valuable experience. It was an internal-only posting in the Timberland system, and I fit the qualifications well, so it’s time to cross those fingers again and see what happens. I figure that if Theo got his new job (which he did), then I can get mine.

Have fun kickin’ it oldschool. You know I am.

Categories
dance personal

Squared, Cubed, and Tikied

We were scheduled to meet the ladies at the Fenix Underground at 10:15. Being that we had to kick some ass at darts, and then finish our Guinness, and then wait to get money out of the ATM (I had done this before heading up to Seattle, but I guess no one else had thought ahead), we didn’t get there until about 10:45.

Fenix Underground is big. Big and in my opinion, pretty classy. Everyone in there seemed to be having a good time, and it wasn’t too packed, at least that early in the evening. We entered on ground level, and then went down the stairs. Having never been there before, I just tried to keep someone I knew in sight so that I didn’t get lost, abandoned and killed in some Seattle back-alley. Downstairs the music was pumping, there were light shows on every wall, and as people danced their shadows played in the light. It’s as much fun to watch silhouettes dance as it is people. We met up with our female cohorts, who had evidently had to put up with some unwanted male advances before we’d arrived, but who’d been having a grand old time without us nonetheless. Still, they were happy to see us, us them, and we immediately jumped out on the dance floor and got our respective grooves on. My groove goes a little like, “Bom-bom-bam-chica-chica-bom-chica-bom-bom-bam-bidda-bidda-bam-bidda-bom-bom-bop”. You know, but not in a porn music sort of way, which the word/sound “chica” always seems to invoke. Having practiced “dropping it like it’s hot”, I shook my bootie, to everyone’s delight, and we had a grand time.

I’d never been to a club with a date. I’d never really danced with a girl I liked outside of structured partner dancing (swing, tango, salsa etc). And frankly, I didn’t really like club dancing that much, until I had someone to do it with, and it became a whole lot more fun. I can see now how people pair up at clubs, if only because it’s a lot more fun to dance WITH someone than by yourself, and the tension can get sexual very quickly. I also think it’s the least constructive way to meet people ever, seeing as how you have no idea if you have anything in common other than you like to go grind it every now and then. But I guess for some, that doesn’t matter so much as what they got and how they can move it.

We spent a little over an hour at the Fenix, all told, which passed quickly. Then some of the girls wanted to move on, seeing as how we’d payed for an all-club pass, why stay at one? I would have been perfectly content staying there. I figure if you’re having a good time, why leave? But we left, anyway, and went to Tiki Bob’s. It sucked. The place was packed, so that walking from the entrance to a place to dance took five minutes, threading through hot sweaty people who either looked like they were wearing too much make-up or too much testosterone. Then we tried dancing, but kept getting bumped by people passing through the crowd. All the guys were wearing tight shirts and had very serious looks on their faces, as if by looking constipated they might attract a mate. The girls were, for the most part, in short halter-top style outfits and tight pants, sporting painted-on characterless faces and a frenzied need to exhibit gleaming in their eyes. If you can’t tell, I was a bit freaked out by the place, but tried to ignore the surroundings and just dance with the people I was with, which worked to a tolerable extent.

We didn’t stay there long, thankfully. Twenty to thirty minutes later we escaped into the crisp night air, breathed thankfully, and bought some really expensive sausages from a vendor set to rake in the dough from all the late-night partiers. We discussed going to another club, something to do with cowgirls (evidently someone wanted to ride the mechanical bull). But feet were sore, people were tired, it was after two in the morning, and we decided to call it a night. But not before we decided we’d hit Denny’s on the way home. Something I wasn’t ecstatic about, but I had four other people in the car I was driving, and by the time we got there some coffee and sugar to keep me awake was sounding very tempting. Better to be wired than dead on the side of the road, I always say. So we stopped about a half-hour south of Seattle, piled out of the car, and tumbled into Denny’s. Our other group met us there, and we sat around for a solid half-hour before our food got to us. You’d think that Denny’s management would realize that they’re going to get a crowd piling in just after two on a Saturday night / Sunday morning, but they seemed oblivious. So we were stuck with one, not overly competent server (he didn’t do too badly, really) serving about ten tables with a combination of about forty people. In a restaurant where everyone wants full coffee all the time, that’s not a good combination.

I chowed on my coffee and apple pie a la mode (I told you I wanted coffee and sugar), and felt much more awake afterwards, if slightly loopy. We chowed, we payed, we left, as often happens in Denny’s, and made our way back to Olympia without further adventure.

I doubt I’ll go up to Seattle every weekend to hit a club, but I did have a blast and I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Olympia has its share of clubs, but the best ones are all gay clubs, and sometimes it’s nice to get out of Dodge and try something new. Still, the nice thing about partying in Oly is that once the evening has wound its way down, you don’t have to drive an hour to get home. Thank god for Denny’s ….

Categories
dance personal

Pioneer, squared

So Saturday night we went up to Seattle, to Pioneer Square, to go to clubs and cause a ruckus. We succeeded admirably, I feel.

Two of my friends and I rode up together a little late, since I didn’t get off work until 6. We got to Seattle a bit after 8:00, and met our gang at the New Orleans for some good company and spicy jambalaya. We had to blow the joint before 9:00 because John Lee Hooker Jr was playing there, and they were charging an exorbitant cover to stay and listen. We had other plans, anyway.

The guys went to the Owl ‘N Thistle for some darts and Guinness. Which, of course, was Theo’s and my plan (mostly Theo), since we were really the only ones playing darts. I think all the guys had a good time, anyway. So Theo and I were playing a game of 501, and these two guys who had been watching us for awhile came up to me and asked if they could have the board when we’re done with our game. I had no idea how to respond, because the nice guy in me wants to get plowed over and say “Hey sure, of course” but really I didn’t want to give up the board yet because they only have the one real dart board and we had just started playing. So I stammered a bit, and then turned to Theo and asked him how he felt about trading off on games, and he turned to them and responded, “How about we play you for it.” And I was like, ooOooOoh, challenge. So Theo and I finished up our game, let the other pair warm up a bit whilst we sized up their skills, and started with a game of 501.

We maintained a good 50-100 point lead throughout the game, all the way down until Theo dropped us to 6 points and I started mad as hell trying to hit the damned double-3. And so they caught up, and the one guy of the two that didn’t seem as good knocked it down to 14 on his first dart, and then hit double-7 and his next. And we were like “W-T-F MATE!?”, but instead we said “Good game” and shook their hands. So after that we played a game of Cricket (the darts version, of course). They had a fairly solid lead on us the entire game, though thanks to Theo we managed to close our bulls early, while I caught us up on most of the other numbers. In the end, they had about 87 points, and we had around 17. They only needed one bull to win, and we needed three. The suspense was high. I got one single bull, which bumped us up to 43. We still needed two more. They missed, then Theo missed, then they missed again. My turn up. First dart flew low and to the right, smacking into the heart of 2. No good. I breathed, lined up, let fly, turned around and said “Good game” with a big smile on my face. My dart stuck smack in the middle of the double-bull, bumping us up to 93 and the win. We may not have kicked their asses in a major way, but I can’t think of a more satisfying victory.

So yesterday we cleared our garage a bit, moved the drum-set, and are ready to start throwing the darts around some more. We need a new board, and I could use some new darts, but Theo and I were both thinking that it would be a lot of fun to enter some local tournaments, either singles or doubles. My competetive edge likes to stomp opponents into the dust, and all the more if they’re strangers. And granted, I’m not that great at darts (yet), but riding off that double-bull win I feel like I could be. Besides, it’s fun as hell.

After the game, we finished our Guinness, and went to the Fenix Underground to meet our lovely ladies and do some dancing. Details to come.

Categories
love personal

Bridges never burn

Had a sparkling conversation with Margaret last night, for an hour and a half. The first time we’ve spoken since 2000 or so, though our paths may have crossed once or twice in 2001. Nothing was the same between us after the break-up. For some reason, I was seriously hung-up on her in a major way. I was a different lad, then. Thinking back on it, that fact is obvious, and I’m glad for it. Now, years later, we enjoyed an amusing conversation about the past, present, and future; about dancing, music, movies, Montreal, grad school and careers. And relationships, of course. From the sound of it, after a literal slew of short relationships, she’s settled down quite a bit. Conversely, in my case, one long and serious relationship, and now single and swinging (well, swing-dancing anyway). It was nice to connect again, even briefly over a phone. Time really does heal all wounds, and bridges never really burn.

Last night, my version of courage: “Here’s my number. Give me a call if you want to hang out, anytime.” No exactly a, “So can I get your number so I can call you for hot monkey love?” But, you know, baby steps, baby steps.

Categories
cinema dance personal

News to the insta-muse

I’ve rearranged and added some links, most notably four new pulldown menus of news links. This in an effort to stay more informed about the world around me. Ironically, I’ve spent hours on my blog today, and now am left with only a few minutes to post something. Type quickly!

We were to have a swing practice last night to work on our “Tainted Love” routine, but there was a “goings-on” going on where we were to do it, so we moseyed over to Adrian’s house. He’s got space enough to dance, once we moved some furniture, and we did indeed get some practice done, but not much. Mostly we drank beers, ate chips and listened to dance music (not swing). It was fun, in an odd sort of way. Adrian suggested the Brotherhood for some more drinking, as we were getting ready to leave, but I played the “have to work early” card. I was just tired, and drinking all night sounded like the least enjoyable idea ever conceived by man or ape. Arriving home, we started to watch the new release of The 5th Element. I was crashing, though, and fell asleep within the first half-hour. Theo and Kandace snuck upstairs sometime whilst I was snoozing, and when I woke up about half an hour later, it was just Tim and I. I figured he’d be hardcore and stay up and finish it, but he turned it off when I announced my resignation. Oh well, I needed the rest after staying up until five in the morning playing poker the previous night. I won $3 though!

My weekend plans are modest: a haircut, perhaps; a movie or two; add to my music collection; have an interesting conversation. I’d throw in find true love and start a novel, but for the first I’ve come to accept that you almost never find love when you’re looking for it, and for the second I as yet feel I have more important things to do before I can write down a story worth reading. As dry as my blog’s been lately, I doubt a novel written over the weekend would sell for a nickel, even as a pillow. Maybe I need someone to insta-muse me. Yeah … that’d be nice.

Categories
dance montreal personal school

Montreal swing

I continued to research graduate schools today for a glorious future of library employment. McGill in Montreal is still at the top of my list, followed in no particular order by: U. of Wisconsin, Madison; Simmons, in Boston; Southern Connecticut State University, in New Haven; U. of Washington, in Seattle; and U. of B.C., Vancouver. Aside from quality of the schools, and really they all seem pretty decent (if they suck they don’t last long), I’ve been focusing on location, and where I want to be. One of the main qualifiers is, you might have guessed, the hepness of the swing-dance scene. And so, in searching, I came across this, which seems very hep indeed. Moving to Montreal scares the shit out of me, but without even ever having been there, I’ve already started to really like the city. No matter what works out in the Fall, I’ve a feeling I’ll end up in Montreal regardless, one way or another.

Last night, abandoned by my usual swing cohorts, I drove up to Tacoma by myself, and had nothing less than a rockin’ good time. Taking smoke breaks alone wasn’t half as much fun, but I managed anyway. I worked on my blues styling a tiny bit (though I still feel woefully inadequate during slower songs), danced with three great dancers I’d never danced with before, chatted with some nice people and got an e-mail address (one step down from a phone #, sure, but hey) to see if some girls want to hook up at McCabe’s next Tuesday for some western swing dancing. As I was leaving, I asked Dave about blues dancing classes, of which I guess there is one (only one *sigh*) up at the Dance Underground next Friday. We’re also working on a new performance routine for V-day to “Tainted Love”, which should be smashing, simply smashing. I suspect we’ll be supposing to practice the performance next Friday, but I may sneak away anyway. I wanna learn me some blues.

On a juicier note, I’ve been getting some major vibe from a very dangerous girl on Tuesday nights. She portrays herself as a bit of a player, and though I’ve no doubt that she’s crafty, I still think she talks a bit bigger than she acts. Even so, she’d probably chew me up and spit me out, which remains tempting all the same. Tempting, but not likely. I wouldn’t mind but for a strange sense of morality that keeps getting in my way. Ah well, probably for the best.

Categories
dance personal poetic

Keeping up with the Joneses

No post for days, and now a deluge, as if to lull you into a false sense of security, and then attack you without mercy until to succumb to my twisted demands. Yeah, so when I think of some twisted demands, I’ll let you know. Got the idea here, and it seemed like a fun meme to do. Take the first sentence from the first entry of each month, and that’s your year in review. I may do more than first sentence though, because halfway through this, I realize most of my first sentences are … rather boring. I like to use short sentences.

January: Another busy and weary Sunday.
Sisyphus didn’t think on these things.

February: In Soviet Russia, the dishes do you.

March: Hey look, it’s March!
On a brief side note, I think our kitty may be bulemic.

April: [I was a lazy sot.]

May: [A really lazy sot.]

June: Don’t run away so quickly.
Still. The house air grass wind walls mind fingers time seems still now. Still. Still. Still. Still. Measure out my heartbeat with the word … it is too quick. Measure out my teardrops with the word. They are too plentiful. Drip – Thump – Still – Drop – Tha-thump – Still ——– and so on.

July: I’ve little thought of what I might do once I reach Olympia.
I’d like to think my actions make nice, concentric circles somehow emanate from me, pulsating lily pads and reflecting lines of sunlight. More likely my actions are like the kid who cannonballs at the pool, soaking people who don’t want to get soaked and getting water up my nose in the process.

August: Well-situated. Killer house, well-located.
L’azur, a hint of purple.
Weaver of blue immobilities.
I’ve rowed ‘neath the eyes of floating jails;
I’ve arrived home at last.

September: If that’s all there is, my friend,
then let’s keep dancing….
Swing word-schemes like a jitterbug;
if that’s all there is, my friend,
then let’s cut a rug.

October: In the mornings, I invariably make coffee,
strong, strong coffee; and listen to Diana
Krall sing some great jazz in DTS.

November: Don’t fret the whimsicality of strangers;
songs hummed below the breath
are songs waiting to be sung.
It’s irresponsible to be scared to fall in love.

December: That is, perhaps, the weirdest expression
that I had never, until now, heard.
Life is good. Today the sun shone,
and I wore the sunglasses of contentment.
A bagel and coffee at Otto’s to start the day,
like we used to do in years past.

And that’s my blog-year in review.
And now my blog is a full year old.
Happy Birthday, blog! *sniff*

Categories
dance music personal work

Dancin’ the Blues Away

Dancing alot alot alot, and having an absolute blast, I might add. Only nine days in, and I’m already optimistic that 2005 is going to be my favorite year yet. I’m sitting on a high that seems unquenchable and comes from no particular source other than my own contentment with myself and the world. And isn’t that what we all strive for? Of course, I can’t imagine that the year will have no low notes. Particularly, I’m still nervous about the graduate school thing, and where I will end up and how that will go; nervous but it’s not ruined my mood nor will it.

Aside from posting pictures, I haven’t really made any comment on what’s been going on around here since ringing in the New Year. So I’ll start at the beginning.

New Year’s Eve was a blast, but with some sour notes. Most notably (on the blast end, not the sour end), Theo and Kandace hooked up (you may have seen the picture), and they are, to be blunt, an inspiring pair. Seeing the two of them together is kind of like watching two stars click in a romantic film, the chemistry (even transferred through wires and lights) is undeniable, and from the moment they meet you think, “These people need to get married, right now, and live happily ever after. For real.” At first, I was a little jealous, but now I just enjoy hanging out with them, and it’s renewed my faith that there is someone out there with whom I will connect so … perfectly. In any case, I got no lovin’ on New Years (though I was secretly hoping for a New Year’s kiss, to be sure), but I refused to let that put a damper on the beginning of what I was resolved would be a great year. Tim and I walked home from the Eagle’s Bar around 1:30 in the morning. I drank more that night than I think I ever have before, and perhaps ever will again, though I felt okay for the most part, and woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Go me.

Tuesday and Wednesday nights I went dancing, as per usual. I’ve been working on my musicality a lot, trying to dance to the music, match the mood and tempo to my style, play around with pauses, and connect with my partner. I’ve also been managing to teach myself at least one new move every night I go dancing, from watching other people. Nothing fancy, and it’s kind of a frustratingly slow pace to improve at, but I’ll get there in the end. Dancing up in Tacoma on Wednesdays, they like to really slow down the pace a lot near the end of the night, and it’s really made me want to learn some blues dancing. I’d also like to work on some salsa, classic ballroom, tango, and even club-style dancing. Basically, I’ve been a dancing fool and I’m inspired to become ever more of one. In a way, it’s been odd, because I didn’t think I was all that excited about dancing. I think a lot of my new-found interest comes in part from being able to share it with a friend. Having Theo start dancing has made the experience feel more connected to the rest of my life, whereas before it was always something I did that was, for the most part, seperate from everything else in which I was involved. I’ve also been hanging out with the other swing dancers in Olympia quite a bit, and they’re a fun crowd. Aside from dancing, we tend to play a lot of cribbage, and Theo and I have started to get some of them into Pinochle; so in that sense too I feel that dance has become a solid part of my life and relationships, instead of just a strange hobby I have.

Tonight I’m meeting with Emily and Nick, who are running the Swing Club out at Evergreen, to talk about what we want to do this quarter. I helped start the original Evergreen Swing Club back in ’98, so I have some perspective on what works and what doesn’t, and what in particular Evergreen students are looking for in a club. Of course, it may have all changed since then, since that was the height of the swing craze. I think we should still be able to pull in a good crowd, though, even if we don’t get the peak 60-or-so people we got back in the day. Also, they may have me teach every other week, which would be a blast, because I miss teaching swing, and I’ve learned a lot since I was dancing back then. On top of all that, I’ve been vigorously adding to my music collection, including a lot of western swing and rockabilly (among other things) and hope to start DJing brief spots at the dance on Tuesday nights. If it goes well, and I’m into it, I might look into getting my own DJ set-up. I used to DJ a little bit with Lee back in the day, now and again, and always had a great time doing it. If nothing else, I just think it would be fun to mix up the music that people dance to every week.

I worked a lot this week, including three days that went from 9:00 to 6:30. I’d forgotten how exhausting it can be to work a full day, especially when most of it is spent moving around and on your feet. The job at Tumwater is decent, if uninteresting, though I wish so much I could just work full-time at St. Martin’s, which is to date my favorite job ever. But I’m bordering on whining, which isn’t my intention, so I’ll move on.

Last night was a guest-list only party at the Eagle’s Bar, featuring the fabulous DJ talent of a man named Rob. Rob lives in Paris, but he came over here to marry (as in preside over the ceremony) Christine and Damon. When he tried to go back home, he was told that he couldn’t because he didn’t have the proper papers (or something really asinine, along those lines). So he was stuck back in the ‘States, trying to make some money to get the documention and ticket he needed to get back to Paris. Last night’s party was partially a farewell party to Rob, and a collection for him to get back home. He’s flying back on the 20th. Bon Voyage, Rob! Anyway, he’s a kick-awesome DJ, with an awesome collection of swing, blues, jazz, techno, dance, disco, and everything else, including some really great music from France he’s picked up. I’d kill for the man’s music collection. The crowd was a lot smaller than it was on New Year’s, and mostly composed of the swing dance crowd. We had solid swing music from 8-10:30, then slowly moved over to disco, with some swing and salsa thrown in on occassion. Kandace drank a little too much, so I took them home around 12:30, and then drove myself back to the party. It wrapped up shortly after I got back, so a few of us went searching for other venues to dance in. Unfortunately, Olympia closes down pretty early (which has always been a beef of mine with this city), so after 1:00 we were pretty much shit out of luck unless we wanted to pay a cover to get into a club packed full of drunk and horny grinders swaying obnoxiously to too-loud techno and hip-hop. After walking around for a bit, we went back to Jan’s house, had some beers, and played cribbage until about 4:30 in the morning. This morning we woke up early (almost), around 10, and went down to get some good, greasy breakfast at The Place.

Categories
personal

This life, manifest

I believe in existence, in balance and in beauty.

These three things above all else.

Categories
music personal poetic

I’ll finish before I’m done

The new year’s begun. Hip hip ______!

My resolutions? Hmmmm …

  • Get good at this dancing thing. Really good. Diversify.
  • Take no day for granted.
  • Write more, more often.
  • Yoga, or some sort of healthiness, consistently.
  • Grad School in the Fall.
  • Enjoy people more, and be more social. Converse.
  • Take mad pictures to document the year with new digicam.
  • Lessen anxiety about big and scary changes.
  • Get my finances back into the green. Pay off debts.
  • Play more music.
  • Explore more music. Maybe DJ at swing, or get a show on KAOS.
  • Be gracious, unceasingly, while remaining conscious of personal needs.

    That’s more than enough, I say. And now, a poem.

    — Fancy That —

    Fancy that, another year has passed,
    hundreds of days gone by leaving
    memories like dust on the sill.
    Fancy that, back in Olympia,
    plotting out a future wrife with adventure;
    oh perilous and exciting days yet to come.
    There are so many tomorrows.
    Fancy that, I still cherish the thought of you,
    though time’s tarnished the picture I brought of you,
    and a crack runs down the frame now
    like a spiderweb, or a bit of lace.
    Fancy that, I thought I might fall in love again,
    so soon; but I did, and her name is:
    the world, each day, the sound of the rain
    dropping gentle like memories into the black.
    Fancy that, plans that precipitate action,
    no distance too great because I’m moving forward
    instead of falling back. I’m out to sea now,
    sail taut pulling into the sunrise and
    the sky’s red and I may never find my way back.
    Fancy that, that fancies change;
    and I’m dancing again, fancying something perfect.
    Because these days pass by so swift that
    I’d be a fool to think I’ll finish before I’m done
    and I think I’d rather share this thing called life.
    Fancy that, another year has come,
    different days and different ways to pass the time;
    and I’ll not look back. I’ll not look back;
    because I fancy that the future
    will be a marvelous place.

    My anthem for 2005: Eels – Mr. E’s Beautiful Blues.

    “Goddamn right it’s a beautiful day.”

  • Categories
    dance humor personal poetic

    ??? ????? ?????? ? ????? ??????

    And today, I blog in Russian! Hahahaha, just kidding.
    Not that I wouldn’t, if I could. Though I got plenty of flak
    for blogging in French. Please note such hate-filled comments as:
    “SQRAWK!” Very Crookshanxian, exhibiting a smoldering inner rage.

    So, as usual, I’ve been going dancing a whole lot.
    You’d think I might get better from dancing so much, but
    I really feel like I’m at a tough plateau right now,
    and I haven’t been learning a whole lot of new stuff.
    Granted, I’m still having plenty of fun, but I’d really
    like to become better at it, for how much time I put in.
    Theo and Kandace and I went up to Tacoma last night,
    which makes two weeks consecutive now. We’ll probably keep
    going up as it’s a lot of fun, and nice to meet a few new people.
    The dance space in Tacoma is small, but friendly, and it’s
    in a church! Devil’s music no more, I say!
    I’m even thinking about going up to Seattle for some dancing,
    or lessons. Of course, traffic to Seattle is about a thousand
    times worse than traffic to Tacoma, so that may not happen.

    Everyone knows about the tsunami by now.
    Heather’s blog talks about what it’s like to be there.
    You can imagine; not fun. She’s got some interesting pictures.
    Google’s set up a good page with links to aid sites,
    if you want to help out and donate some moneys.
    For what it’s worth, I wish everyone the best over there.
    It’s going to be awhile before this is something anyone can
    move on from; at least for the people involved. I can’t imagine.

    Keri says that my blog needs more sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.
    So, ummmmmm … here you go:

    God bless you, thank you, rock ‘n’ roll,
    you make my days complete;
    from all the sex you’ve given me
    to all the shrooms I eat.

    And though I now look eighty-two,
    though I’m only twenty-four;
    still, bless you, thank you, rock ‘n’ roll,
    I think I’ll have some more.

    With my deepest apologies. Blame Keri.

    Categories
    book cinema personal

    King Weneseseslaaaas

    Who was that king guy, anyway?

    Watched Love Actually last night. Such a good, nice, warm film, even if it has its sappy and overly romantic bits. I like it. Played some cribbage and went to sleep after reading some Charles de Lint. It’s been many years, but I still remember believing in Santa; lying in bed pretending to sleep, ears straining to hear reindeer bells, or Santa shuffling about under the tree. Without fail, I always feel asleep within an hour (I was an active kid, and so a sleepy one come nighttime). Last night, I fell asleep with a simple feeling of contentment that felt unrufflable. It’s Christmas today, and it’s a good day. That’s enough.

    I wouldn’t normally brag about Christmas loot, except that in this case it’s relative to the blog. My family pooled together and got me a digital camera, which means pictures on the blog! Woo! Woo woo! Yeay! A’ight! Yippee! I desist. You get the idea that I’m excited, non? I plan on getting myself a 1gig flash card, or at least 512MB, so stay tuned for some serious picture mayhem. Rock. On.

    Categories
    dance personal

    Ain’t got no Christmas blues

    For no particular reason, the holidays always bring me down a little bit. So if I have been neglecting my blogger duties, it’s because I’d rather not piss and whine about a feeling I can’t pinpoint; other than that sometimes, despite being surrounded by the best of friends and family, the universe leaves me feeling very cold and alone. But, you know, I still don’t want to piss and whine, so I’m not going to get into it.

    We had our dance performance for our swing routine on Tuesday night here in Olympia, and then we performed it again last night up in Tacoma. It went well both nights, though I had a different partner each night. Oddly, I think the Tacoma crowd recieved it better than Oly did. But then, it was a smaller group and seemed more close-knit in general. Also, they weren’t expecting anything, so perhaps we just garnered some extra “neat surprise” value. In any case, I’m equally glad and sad that it’s over. December has been the month from hell for my schedule, and I’ll be more than happy when that mellows out and I can live according to some sort of regular schedule (yeah right), but at the same time I think I’ll miss a little bit being this active and busy. But not too much.

    Tomorrow I’ll wake up early, go to the UPS store to send a box to Ohio (don’t worry, it doesn’t tick), and then mosy on up to Port Townsend for a few days to spend time with family. It’ll be quiet, laid back, relaxed; I plan on drinking coffee, reading, going for walks and enjoying some blackberry pie, among other things.

    To all who stop by here occassionally, often, rarely, or never: I wish you a very big gigantic joyously stupendously Merry Christmas (or other preferred holiday). Peace on earth and good will towards everything. Yeay.

    Categories
    love personal

    …in a handbasket, “S6 please.”

    Reopening wounds that never really closed.
    Unintentional, true, but it doesn’t make me much
    less of a bastard. I should have known better.

    Walking away each night with tears in my wake.
    It’s no way to live. We try our best not to hurt
    the ones we care for, and in the end, they’re the ones
    we hurt the most; the most open to us, fragile.

    Treat love like a butterfly’s wings: untouched.

    The human dynamic; so complicated.

    Thinking about perspectives. As we grow older,
    we gain more perspective on life. Things that would
    be bombs in our youth are just little raindrops
    as we’ve gained experience. Not to say we don’t have
    our own bombs dropped, now and again, no matter how
    solid and wise we think we’ve become; but they occur less,
    and we can move past them faster. But life can’t be
    all wine and roses. If we’re to gain perspective (which
    is in a sense, just wisdom), we’ve got to have some bombs
    fall in our lives. We have to struggle, and we have to move past.
    Otherwise, we’re just piano stops.

    Categories
    love music personal

    All my little words

    On repeat: The Magnetic Fields
    “All My Little Words”

    You are a splendid butterfly
    It is your wings that make you beautiful
    And I could make you fly away
    But I could never make you stay
    You said you were in love with me
    Both of us know that that’s impossible
    And I could make you rue the day
    But I could never make you stay

    Not for all the tea in China
    Not if I could sing like a bird
    Not for all North Carolina
    Not for all my little words
    Not if I could write for you
    The sweetest song you ever heard
    It doesn’t matter what I’ll do
    Not for all my little words

    Now that you’ve made me want to die
    You tell me that you’re unboyfriendable
    And I could make you pay and pay
    But I could never make you stay

    I stayed up until 4:30 in the morning,
    searching for new music. I ended up with:

    Black Heart Procession, Carissa’s Wierd, Colin Hay, Dan Bern, Dave Alvin, Eels, Ely Guerra, Emiliana Torrini, Eva Cassidy, Frou Frou, Goldfrapp, Gunther & the Sunshine Girls (Karla’s fault), Jeff Buckley, Johnny Cash (songs from American IV), Lovage, Matthew Good, Mazzy Star, Mylene Farmer, Social Distortion, The Album Leaf, The Magnetic Fields, The Polyphonic Spree, The Rapture, Weakerthans, Thievery Corporation, and Tosca. And some other, random stuff.

    Right now I’m particularly digging on Dan Bern, Eva Cassidy, The Magnetic Fields, and Weakerthans. But it’s a lot of new music to absorb all at once; it has to sink in a bit yet. So yeah, basically I went to the profiles of all the bloggers that I read and checked out what music they like. I have to admit, you all have good taste. Or perhaps I’m extremely eclectic. Or both. If anyone has any further suggestions, please feel free to let me know. I’ve always got an ear out for something new to fall in love with.

    So I’ve come to realize that my mood is largely dependent on how nervous I am about any given thing, take your pick between: the swing routine, the new job, the relationship (and ensuing friendship, which is now going well, I think), Christmas, moving in the Fall. And etc…. So, I’m going to stop being nervous, and get on with my life. Tonight the swing practice went really well (we cut out the backflip, which makes me happy), and it put me in a really great mood. I’m going to do my best to stay in it, and not get so freaked out by every little thing. I’ve no idea where this tendancy came from. So, bring it on, world; I’m ready for ya. All the great music helps, too.

    Categories
    book dance love personal poetic

    Local non-celebrity

    I’ve had adventures too, rather beautiful adventures. –I came down the railroad cut at twilight. They had been gaining on me all day. My mouth tasted of sweat and black fear. It doesn’t do to let it go too long–You get mixed-up. You begin to think you know what is hunting you down. You begin to think that maybe the only thing which has the power to comfort you is to get caught, to lie helpless and meek before them. You begin to think that the only real escape is to give in, to offer them your life and your soul–because somewhere, in fire and glory, it was arranged that they should have them.
    – Kenneth Patchen, from Sleepers Awake

    Months ago, in the days of weekly poetry readings at Last Word Books with a vibrant crowd of local talent (I’ve talked it up plenty in past posts), I read a poem called Café Muse which particularly impressed a local poet named Amy. It’s an ode to the beauty and grace of the café barista, silly romantic and evidently (from the general reaction as I read it) pretty funny. Amy asked me for a copy of the poem, which I got to her some weeks later. I don’t see Amy often, but ran into her two days ago at the Swing Club meeting out at Evergreen. It was just her and Nick and Emily and Sam and I at the meeting, since most students are done out there or extremely busy with last-minute end of the quarter work. Sam, a fabulous musician, played music on the old piano in the room we use as a dance space. Mostly he played his songs (remeniscent of a male Fiona Apple, sort of), but he also played us a couple swing tunes, to which we gratefully danced.

    I chatted with Amy a bit. She’d just arrived back from a trip to San Francisco. She took some great photos, which she showed me. We didn’t talk much, since the room greatly proliferated the echoes from the piano and we didn’t want to try and yell over it; but she told me she’d read Café Muse to a few people, in a few places, and everyone had liked it. She mentioned further that she had been invited to the Batdorf and Bronson (a local café) Christmas Party, and had been asked to read it there. I think this is all greatly amusing, as I’ve few aspirations to the greatness of my literary prowess, and no particular pride in the quality of this particular work, particularly. But hey, if people are enjoying it, I think that’s great. I can only imagine that she’s giving me credit (she was very considerate in asking me if it was okay that she was reading this poem to folks); perhaps one day I’ll meet someone for the first time, introduce myself, and they’ll say, “Ahniwa … Ahniwa. Hey, you’re the guy that wrote that Café Muse poem!” Heehee, as if. If anything, it makes me think I need to stop slacking on the creative writing. Which I do, I do.

    My innocent companions, They imagine an earth, a sky; imagine that they are alive; and they die. – Kenneth Patchen

    Some time ago, Jason swung through town toting a book of Patchen’s poetry. I skimmed through it, and since then the bastard’s been stuck in my subconscious. If you’re interested, you can read some of his work online: Let Us Have Madness & The Hangman’s Great Hands, The Orange Bears, and Excerpts from Sleepers Awake; and a further list here.

    Florida is out for the holiday. Instead of sun and warmth I’ll marry myself to the rain and the constant thrum-thrum of noises muted in the dripping embrace of the evergreens’ branches. I’ll drive up the rainforest-lined peninsula, watch divers prepare their equipment along the side of the road, digging into the backs of their small pick-ups, and people spread out along the mud flats leading to the water, digging for clams and secret treasures forgotten but subconsciously in their childhood imaginings. I’ll sip a latté or mexican hot chocolate in the Silverwater while I watch raindrops splatter against the fountain across the street, and talk to people I knew when I was seventeen, when I worked for a year before college, trying to find something out about myself and the world. I’ll savor blackberry pie a la mode and remember days of that year I’d forgotten, and I’ll get sentimental but remain content. I’ll dig through the bookstore looking for treasures, wasting happy hours and walking away with either two full bags of books or none at all. I’ll try to skip rocks along the water, walking the beaches slick with mossy rocks and large logs that drifted in one day and have sat for years now, happy playthings of children and perches for lovers to sit and watch the waves. Perhaps I’ll see whales playing in the spray, and turning over rocks I’ll watch small crabs scuttle away to seclusion, annoyed with my human need to disturb things, and I’ll feel momentarily guilty.

    Christmas morning will be quiet, but cheerful. Coffee and breakfast and a fire in the pellet stove; warm air blown out loudly by a fan that can be hard to talk over when you’re naturally soft-spoken. A small tree, not overdecorated, hugging the corner of the room, guarding presents neither numerous nor large, but picked out in a genuine spirit of caring.

    I’m getting well ahead of myself.

    Had coffee with Alexis last night after dropping Joseph off in the glen. She’d had a rough week, and then a rougher night, and needed some decent company. We smiled across the table at each other, drank our coffee and chatted. When we left, I took her back to her place and we watched about three minutes of cartoons before the TV died. I held her for awhile, trying to imbue her with all the positive energy I could muster so she could sleep without suffering through nightmares. I did my best to be supportive to her, and to be close, without offering more than I could give. As I left her house, tired and stumbling into the cold and wet, some of her warmth lingered, pressed against me like a blanket. I have missed her company, but I don’t want to hold open a wound that will close more easily in my absence. December will be busy, but perhaps afterwards it will be easier for us to hang out more often.

    Categories
    love music personal work

    Like Clark Gable

    So I got a brand new jobby-job. Yes indeed.

    Formerly just:

    Ahniwa Ferrari: Library Assistant II, Reference
    Saint Martin’s College

    And now also:

    Ahniwa Ferrari: Library Aide
    Tumwater Timberland Library

    Okay, so it’s not flashy. Nor is it particularly elegant.
    But it’s MINE! Today shelving, tomorrow the world.
    The irony is that I’ve never been to the Tumwater Library,
    and now I have half an hour between jobs to find it,
    and try to eat lunch. Good thing I’m a library employee,
    and therefore resourceful. Anyway, I’m only going to be
    working a grand total of 34 hours a week, give or take;
    so I’m not high-rolling, but I’m sure it will seem like
    a lot for awhile. Even working 19 hours a week, I never
    felt like I had that much free time. And now it
    will almost be true. I prefer the busy; I’ll adjust.

    I want so badly to believe that “there is truth, that love is real”
    And I want life in every word to the extent that it’s absurd
    I know you’re wise beyond your years, but do you ever get the fear
    That your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?

    – The Postal Service, “Clark Gable”

    Thinking about that shiny green bit at the center of us,
    about connections and comfort and reciprocation.
    We’re all so strange to each other.

    I think relationships have to connect both emotionally and practically. But it’s difficult and rare for those two to go together. In my case, too often: emotional beginnings, practical endings. I yet believe that there is truth, that love is real.

    I’ve got a shiny green bit: infinite strong, hopelessly fragile.

    Categories
    game love music personal

    We will become silhouettes

    On the big speakers: The Postal Service
    My current obsession: Vaenu Pa’riya

    Nearly a week since my last entry. Not because of EQ2, as one might guess, but because I’ve needed the time to mull things over. I wanted to pay what happened with Alexis more than just passing lip service, but honestly I don’t know what to say. I’ve got very mixed feelings about what happened. She came over last night and we talked about things; mostly she tried to convince me that I was making a horrible mistake. I admitted that she could very well be right, but for now I still feel like it was the right decision, and I’m not going to change my mind. Not that it wasn’t hard. My god; my body was shaking, and she leaned against me and took my hand and stared into my eyes and even while melting I told her that I couldn’t do what she wanted me to do. It remains the right decision, but not an easy one.

    As I dropped her off in the glen, she kissed me. Three times. I didn’t stop her, but I didn’t let it go any further. She told me I was stupid (for letting her go; a theme of the night) and then left. I drove away, confused and feeling pretty stupid. My brain still feels a bit addled, but I’ll keep my resolve. If I don’t, I suspect it will just lead to more people getting more hurt later on. In the Autumn I need to make a journey by myself; this supersedes all else.

    To occupy my thoughts:

    • My father is probably moving to Reno.
    • I may go to Florida for Christmas, but I’m waiting to hear about the new job and see how my schedule might work out. Christmas is just around the corner, though.
    • We’ve got seven swing practices planned before we have to perform our routine. We perform on the 21st, and I’m nervous about the aerials.
    • My schedule is completely fucked since I can’t work over the holidays and I have to make up the hours somehow.
    • Everquest 2 is the best crack since Everquest, and better. It makes me shiver.
    • I desperately want a digital camera, and I desperately can’t afford one.
    • I may buy myself one anyway.
    • I secretly yearn for snow. I blame this on Ohio.
    • I worry that the application process for grad school in a different country will be complicated and difficult, and that I won’t be able to get the aid required to allow me to go.
    • I still haven’t heard about the second job, and I’m getting nervous now.
    • That’s more than enough, I imagine.

    I’ll do my best to update more regularly.
    I always feel better for doing so.

    I wanted to walk through the empty streets
    And feel something constant under my feet,
    But all the news reports recommended that
    I stay indoors
    Because the air outside will make our cells
    Divide at an alarming rate until our shells
    Simply cannot hold all our insides in,
    And that’s when we’ll explode
    (and it won’t be a pretty sight)


    – The Postal Service, We Will Become Silhouettes