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Posts Tagged ‘inspiration’

Dogs Dig

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on January 6, 2012| 4 Comments »

Back where I grew up was this park in the town of Hempstead; “Hempstead Lake State Park”. It sounds pretty, right? Wellll, it was green. Greenish. It was the most greenish area around us for a bit, so there was that. And there was a lake. And it was pretty from a far. Prettyish. And then when you got up close, not so much. No one swam in there. Not a chance. It was filthy. And there were probably dead, bloated bodies in there. And it stunk.

The park ran dangerous and once we grew older and had stashy parties in the woods(ish), we would go, but be in big masses when traversing through and around. Lots of creepy stories came from here.

Anyway, one day it turns out that there is going to be a drum circle there. What?! Yes, a drum circle there, in the day, with… hippies. Unbelievable. Well, we had to go, as a matter of course, and see the turn out with our own eyes. I repeat, this was not that kind of park. Not even almost.

The day came. It was cool and crisp. Bright and sunny. We blazed some and walked through the woods. We could hear the drums in the distance and I recall joking about little wood elves banging sticks together around us because of the way the sound echoed off of the trees. As we got closer and closer, we heard the most peculiar sounding drums. I mean, it sounded decent and it/ they were definitely keeping the beat. We heard it for a while and the sound was so different than that of any other percussion instrument any of us had ever listened to before. Finally, we had ascended upon a clearing, closing in on the drum circle in the adjacent field from where we had emerged. There, in the field before us was a felled log with four dogs tied to it, that most likely belonged to some of the drummers… There they stood, barking at random and without panic, appearing relaxed and content… adding their own barking rhythms to the sound cloud. They were 100% on point with the drum circle. It was absolutely astounding.

I thought of that today when a friend emailed me this little cute diddy.

Dogs man, they get it!

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Haiku Break Part 2

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on December 31, 2011| 2 Comments »

Portland’s China Town

Ginseng, porn, souvenir shop…

One block radius

*****

A true paradox

In having lots of money…

I’de still like to know

*****

If I owned a bar

I’d trade light beer for cleaning

Everyone’s happy

*****

Having wings sounds nice

Talk about a rad surprise

Travel whenevs, babe!

*****

Sometimes I pretend

That the highway is ocean

Tricks my brain to calm

*****

Dancing at the club

Is fun if you can ignore

All but the music

*****

Understanding you

Is like trying to put socks

On a slippery fish

*****

Bar scene’s a shit show

Or maybe I’m getting old

Time to moisturize!

*****

Hear that far off train~

Your distant below woos’ me,

Always brings me home.

*****

Ha! Pleasure and pain

Decieving me to believe

That you’re connected

*****

My neighbor’s creepy.

His lazy eye follows me-

Gets the best of him.

*****

Splinter on my ear!

What are the chances of that?

Someone get my mum!

*****

Claimed he spoke Spanish

Claimed lots of things; unimpressed

Can’t get in these pants

*****

Major indulgence

Turning heat above 70

Cozy, naughty girl

*****

I’m like a child

Not wanting to go to sleep

Can’t stop the party

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Spanish Town

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on December 20, 2011| 7 Comments »

I want to live where the wild Ginger grows.

I want to set up shop amongst the racket of howler monkeys that shriek at the warm, sleepy, star dusted dawn. Everyday. Reliably.

I want to look down at the ground and kick at fat grubs with my barefoot feet, and feel the virile earth give just a bit; just enough to let some air out and give the worms some work to do for no good reason in particular.

I desire the smell in the air of mysterious and magnificent, unnamed tropical flowers that are very red and robust,  screaming pinks, bold charming candied yellows. I want to pluck them for my tea after humming a new tune of gratitude that I just made up because the inspiration is so damn thick that it is simply oozing- wet and juicy all over the place, where I stand drenched in the generous gifts of rhythmic cobalt full magenta golden song and hot spellbinding aqua haunting ocher poetry. 

A place where art is never dormant. The spark of creation ignites and burns burns burns, creating an absolute ruckus of overturned firey beauty.

Where I just can’t get any sleep and no- not because I am unrested but because the jungle hums and churns and I know to listen, as I am actively learning secrets of the ancients and what it is like, and what it takes to live housed and homed in the middle of la selva.

Little green snakes will slither clear and not slip into my favorite shoes.

A place permeated with the scent of  fresh tortillas. Todo fresco. Tierra local. Harvest practices relied upon for generations. Methods of sowing and reaping on dial with the waxing and waning of the solar system  itself. Stone ground and pounded with experience, hardened hands, hardy laughter, crows feet on faces for days.

I want to bathe in tepid waters of mineral pools, cleansing my mornings in mud and waterfalls. I will run my fingers through my hair and let the little pieces of leaves and sticks stick around like they picked me on purpose.

Let me live in Spanish town. Some where, somehow, someday. Where colors are brilliant, where the plants dance along, where old stories are revered and passed on, where we feel exuberant and incredibly alive because home is where the carazon es.

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For Jim: A Tribute

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on December 8, 2011| 8 Comments »

Amidst the raspy cattails and lobbing murky water is where I find you when I want to.

That night that we ran like hell, away from the world that we imagined to be watching, wanting to stop our mischief.

Where we scaled the rusted, cutting fence, making it over the barbed wire, thanks to Chris’s sweatshirt, unscathed some how. Always unscathed. Jumped down with out caution or fear holding us as we entered our familiar domain.

Encircled by resilient wild reeds, fat and abundant river rats, crackling speckled brown nesting birds, and decomposing, unnamed garbage.

The smell never mattered much because that was home and it was what we knew, and we grew up to laugh at it; holding our noses and running until we were inside, gasping for air, cracking up and seeing who made it to the interior last.

Those times while you had that janky-ass car with the doors that wouldn’t latch, and you would do donuts in it at the drop of a hat, making me crazy, forcing us to grab onto the front seats for dear life, leaving tracks on the pavement.

Looking back it’s like we were just living on our toes in those days.

Truly young, wild, and free.

But I’ll tell you Jim, you made a humbled believer out of me. And I’ve seldom told a soul because I would rather be unheard then unbelieved.

That night in the marsh where we all danced along the board walks, muddy, messy water on either side. Residue from Oil City seeping into the planks, making out traverse slippery and sleek. And we found that busted up 4 or 5 foot Graffix with the Joker base. And it was broken, but you swore to repair it. (Somehow it would wind up in my room, leaving me with the challenging responsibility of sneaky disposal.) And we made all sorts of wierd sounds that night because we finally felt alone.

And we settled in to watch the sky.

Finally.

And I’de never seen a NY sky so clear before.

Each cloud so disctinct, holding it’s very own proud shape.

And they took on thier figures before our eyes, entertaining us for what seemed like encapsulated hours.

And I saw Snoopy of all things. And we all watched and marveled, because Snoopy it was and there was simply no disputing.

And Kalinda saw something that is long forgotten, and Chris another… and it was all so crisp and vivid.

We watched together as Snoopy’s ear detached from the cloud parade and floated away as we all howled for him because the image was just so real. We could hardly believe it. Hard to believe. Grateful to witness.

And then you spotted, and I’ll never forget, the Grim Reaper. And you saw it first. And no one could dispute.

And we all self-assessed, inwardly, checking, after all, we weren’t tripping or fucked up beyond plain old weed and alcohol. Pills may have been present in our systems, but definitely no hallucinogens.

And in the night, clear as day, there it was.

And you got quiet.

It was eery but I don’t remember thinking that it was a sign.

I don’t remember anything else after that.

My memory draws a still, flat lined blank. Quiet and blind. Maybe with a soft subtle static to it. Until the day that I heard the news.

Perhaps a month after?

You had been killed. You were murdered. In Long Beach. At that bagel store in the East end. Crawling on your elbows through a ceiling shaft. In your early twenties.

A coke deal gone bad.

And all your hustle and your good intentions, all your far out, stoney epiphanies, your unstoppable language creation and invented and catchy phrases~ poof. Like a thunder clap into the air and back amongst the sky that first claimed you. And you were dismantled from this world as I could understand it.

You and your troubled ways; brawny and street wise with a sordid past and a secret tender heart that we knew so well.

You came to me last night during a peak of inspiration. I feel it is time to release you. I will never forget you and where you almost went.

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Sucky Sucky

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on December 1, 2011| 12 Comments »

Ah life. You are so impermanent. Your lessons so abstract albiet poignant. What are we here for but to enjoy and decipher your cryptic meanings.

Talking to a friend yesterday, she referred to life’s changes as “shiftings”, implying that it’s a steady, time-staking thing- the changes, that is; and not something to expect to see happen over night. I like to refer to these shifts as growing pains, which makes me feel like my pain is not in vain and is heading in a purposeful direction.

One of the big things my  X liked to drill into me was how you gotta know your flaws. At the drop of  a hat. Know what you’re bad at, where your short comings are, and what you stand to correct. These things should be glaring at you. It was always hard to me to give it all up like that, despite being aware of some…. Can you believe I have flaws?

Unbeknownst to him, I have been compiling a list all the while. My shit list. My very own shitty shit list of what makes me terrible and of what I suck at. Do be warned that it’s relatively topical and superficial, though a step in the right direction of accepting my ugly, unskilled, and not-so-hot-side. Perhaps even a shot at embracing them and “shifting” things a bit.

Are confessions and belittling one self a positive? I don’t know, but I feel like coming clean. Perhaps an ode to you-know-who-you-are. Hope your satisfied, guy…

Generated list of things I suck at:

I. Roman numerals. I will attempt to keep this tally numbered by using them to act and serve as exposing proof of my inability to use them. I don’t even like them, but whatever. Base ten and up are just fine by me, thank you.

II. Biting my tongue when some one has a celebrity look alike. I get excited. I’m sorry. When I told that girl that she looked like Kimmy Gibler from Full House, I meant it as a compliment. I said she looked like her, not that she acted like her! Big difference. Besides, didn’t she know? She really didn’t have to get so mad. Just sayin’. There are occasionally people that I will meet that look like the black version of or the white version of so and so. Do you ever get that?  Anyway, I do feel like I deserve some credit, because I managed to keep it inside when I met that guy who looked like Jon Lovitz. Close call. A proud moment of feigned silence.

III. Rushing in the morning. Yeah. I like my time. People that pop out of bed and run around are a different breed. I will wake up 1.5- 2 entire hours early JUST so I can have a leisurely morning. Stretch, walk the dog, make a smoothy~ all very important pieces to my peace of mind. (Plus I would be chronically late if I didn’t, and that’s not to say that I’m out of the weeds on this). ( I think being on time would be the bastard cousin of this Roman Numeral Three, perhaps even meriting a Numeral of it’s very own.)

IIII. Cutting bread. How do people get such clean and thin slices when it comes as a whole? This seems like a no brainer but seriously, how do you not squish the loaf (hot!), or cut too thin/ thick. I’m not even kidding. Is anyone capable of impressive slices? I’m over all pretty good with my hands but…

V. Snowboarding. I biff right off the lift. It’s kind of making me feel crazy because I have some decent dexterity and agility. I can dance, baby! And most of my good friends do it, so I know I can… I just can’t stand sucking so bad at something that I spend so much money to do. Sponsor me!

IV. <Right??

Spelling correctly with ei or is it ie? Damn you, English. You are so bloody inconsistent.

IIV. I’m numerically in over my head, but didn’t it impress you until what 6 should be? Why thank you!

Exercising patience. I am a relativeley typical Aries woman, only in the respect that when I get an idea in my head, that’s it. That’s what’s happening. I get super enthusiastic and must have my way. Working on it.

IIIV. Sitting still. I have reached the point to where I can’t watch a movie with out fake-shopping for shoes in another browser. Yeah, really. Poster girl for Ritalin? Ok, pay me. I am way too fidgety to have a ”movie day”. That just sounds terrible, unless of course, I was terribly ill. Even then it’s hard to slow down.

IIIIV. Staying on a date that I realize I don’t want to be on. I know- it’s fucken rude. It’s rude and I’m sorry. I might see you in hell, but at least I won’t be bored to death. I have absolutely been know to run. I have left bars when the dude has gone to the bathroom. I know, it’s really bad, but this is confession time. And I am working on patience and presence. I know, I know; everyone has something(s) valuable to share. Either way, next time I’ll make up a better excuse instead of running out, or fake leaving the bar like I did tonight.

X. (Yes? 10?)

Road rage. It’s rough because people in Portland are the very slowest turners that I have ever seen. Furthermore, they stop at intersections when they don’t have a stop sign and no pedestrians are present. Those are just the tip of the iceberg. Get a bike, dicks!

IX. Meditating. O how I wish; how it would behoove me; what benefits and gentle rewards await my arrival… My mind is a race track at any given moment. My head-horses are either in full gallop, or are trotting through fields of wild flowers. They breathe heavy and moist, pulling my attention to their pastures. This also goes back to my  inability to stay still for an extended period. It’s like meditating makes me fat. I could be out jogging! I find it very challenging to calm the chatter.

Allright, I’m thinking that’s enough exposure for one night. Now you know what makes me the pits. Don’t hold it against me!

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Lisa, Queen of Everything, Owns the Alphabet

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on November 2, 2011| 3 Comments »

It’s simple. Getting aquatinted with the multi-facitude of ourselves. Facitude because yes, Webster is still evolving and it is our immediate responsibility to see that they (dictionary marauders) stays on their toes. Creating new words is a healthy little pass time. And so, with out further ado, I introduce a sideways little exercise that is useable to spark the flow of our own understanding of our own selfs. Alphabetize the truth; the sweet, the dirty, the random that lies with in you….because, why not?

A. Ambition: Aspiring philanthropist. One day I will drop money from tops of buildings, but not coins, no… No one will be hurt. Stay tuned. One day, I tell you.

B. Bad habit: I have an ill weekness for brownies (B!) and it’s been 50+ days since I have been off of processed sugar (rad), but tell you what, come PMS time- I would eat your 1st born if it was dipped in chocolate. Stay away!

C. Closest Call: Did you know that you have to be careful in rivers because they too can kill you?  The Trinity river in N. California taught me a major lesson in humility. I was born part fish, being in ”Diaper Dippers” and the likes, and growing up a hop, skip, and jump away from the ocean. I had no fear of water before this day. Caught in a current, dragged and smashed agains the rocks, choking. Long story. Very scary. But I made it (:

D. Damnation: If I were called to Hell it would most likely be because the very 1st reaction that I had when a Squirrel Monkey at the local pet store in my home town was in my arms took a shit on me- was to wipe it down the poor lady next to me’s apron. But she worked there! But yeah, I did that. And I just think wiping excrement on someone else as a first reaction makes one a bad person in one way or another. Right? Or, possibly because I fake phone conversations when walking past Green Peace canvassers’, despite the fact that I truly am so grateful for what they do! * I’m sure there are worse things that I do…. to be revisited.

E. Education: Working on my Masters in Education, baby! In my second year of two. Loves it!

F. For Fun: Movement, easily. Dancing is the best thing EVER. Walking, biking, climbing, and yoga are my bffs.

G. Guilty Pleasure: Easy- I’m a sucker for a good abandoned house. I don’t want to steal anything! I just want to see. So sue me! But really, please don’t.

H. Hometown: Oceanside, N.Y. 11572. A town away from the ocean, and 28 miles East of NYC.

I. Inner Child: Alive and well, thank you. Still like to be held and when people read to me. And playing limbo and dress up.

J. Jonesing for: A 4-6 month trip out of the country. Want. Need. Ah. Beach me please.

K. Kryptonite: Idle hands. It’s an ugly descent.

L. Luck: Overall decently optimistic disposition.

M. Maybe: I carry maybe with me. Grey is a common color that I find these days. Black and white used to reign, but I attribute the appreciation for Grey (metaphorically speaking, dig?) to growing up and seeing the world from different sides.

N. Nerding out: One of my favorite things to catch is misuse of quotations. I have a collection…

O. Obsession: Collecting new music. Can’t. Get. Enough. Hungry.

P. Peace in a Strange Place: I feel safe and secure by myself at night, no matter where in the city I am if everything is covered in fresh snow.

Q. Quote: “Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” -Lao Tzu.    “Just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it’s bad, just because it’s easy doesn’t mean it’s good.” -Me.

R. Resist: Stagnation and apathy.

S. Strangers: Have soft skin when I sit close to them on the bus and pretend I don’t know our arms are touching. Is that weird? Is that a bud of a fetish?

T. Talent: Creative thinking, art, and dancing, since forever. Always had that flow. Shucks.

U. Umbilical Chord: 4 years ago when my parents left the house I grew up in for… ahem… Texas, I realized that I was majorly attached to the home there. It was a constant, no matter where I was, how far, or how long away for. It felt much like losing a family member, but with an alien twist; You can not hug a wall good bye. My umbilical chord, then, was severed. I hadn’t even realized it had been attached until that point.

V. Vacation: South America por favor. Pronto!

W. Whisper: One of my favorite ways to hear my own name.

X. Xanax: Took a shower once after eating one. What a great shower.

Y. You: Really oughtta try this! It’s fun and flexible.

Z. Zen: I try to hold on to gratitude and recognize I have what I have asked for, good, bad, and indifferent; all teachers.

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Blossom to Fulfillment: on Positive Thoughts~

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 21, 2011| 4 Comments »

Within the seed of your desire is everything necessary for it to blossom to fulfillment. The law of attraction is the engine that does the work. Your work is just to give it a fertile growing place in order to expand.

— Abraham

A painting I made for a good friend of mine. A reminder that rewards come from efforts.

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If You Had to Pick a Song to Eat… What Would It Be??

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 13, 2011| 4 Comments »

<licking lipssss>

Occasionally I will come across a song that I can not get enough of. Like obsess, play over and over and over and over…

I can recall being a youngin’ and standing distractedly out  on the soccer field, when the wind would blow just right and I would instantly be transported into some Poison  music video or some thing. I would be that girl in the video; you know- the slow shot, or the still, of the object of mystery, allure, desire….

You too? Any one?

How about this: A new song comes on. It’s the 1st time you’re hearing it and you think- “Ah! That was almost mine!” Eh? Eh? Admittedly, this is no longer a common occurance, though I can easily recall a vast amount of times where it was, in my youth.

Does the fruit tree of cosmic energy and creativity hang lower with heavy, fruit laden branches to us as children? The “idea tree” if you will, that grows in the ethers, producing thoughts available to the first person to notice, to put effort forth, or to simply just pull it down/ out?

Like I mentioned, it has been a while since the phenomenon of recognizing a song narrowly mine, missed just by a margin, has been plucked by another… Then I heard the song above a few years back, felt that old, familiar tinge, and danced along like it was written just for me.

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Comfort

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 7, 2011| 16 Comments »

It is the Ocean that gives me strength and a sense of peace. I could never live too far from it or I might wither up into a sad little raisin. It is a place of mystery, awe, and wonder. It can be cruel and unforgiving; this I know, yet still it is a constant for me in returning home. It’s my coziest place.

It was a stormy, bleary day. The rain fell vertical. Our ponchos were plastered to us. We had the beach to ourselves for miles. It was invigorating and we felt so free. We had stopped and got some crappy pizza in a whole in the wall spot. Being New Yorkers, we are big time pizza snobs, but ate a bit as we walked along the shore, until I threw a piece into the air. Like magic, the seagulls came out of nowhere and followed us, catching pieces of dough in their mouths with each toss. I would estimate a flock of 20 something that followed.  It was magnificent!

My dog was going nuts about it. It really was an absolute blast.

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Know Your Hero

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 6, 2011| 4 Comments »

Definition of HERO

1
a : a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or abilityb : an illustrious warriorc : a man admired for his achievements and noble qualitiesd : one who shows great courage
2
a : the principal character in a literary or dramatic workb : the central figure in an event, period, or movement
3
plural usually he·ros : submarine 2
4
: an object of extreme admiration and devotion : idol
       Ask a modern kid who there hero is. It’s probably no surprise that  the majority of the time the response will be full of celebrities and sports players… Curses. Sometimes someone on their list might make the cut that’s worthy of hero/ heroine status; albiet dead. Obviously this is a reflection of our value placements in our flashy, splashy, frenetic, bigger-is-better, faster, technologically-infused society. But wait! Fear not, as this isn’t a rant on our scopes or sad states of affair… Hold tight.
       Every now and again I like to step back and take inventory of my interests, priorities, actions, and what/ who I appreciate. Knowing too much celebrity gossip, or really any for that matter, has always just freaked me out. I think this stems partially from a deep seeded fear that the info would take up valuable space in my brain. The other part being that I really just don’t give a rat’s ass. It’s just kind of creepy. I never got the fascination with ‘People’ mag, or any of that kind of thing… Different strokes… Keeping abreast of politics is an absolute priority, despite the fact that it generally tightens each and every one of my muscles, as the daily stresses of world events settle in. Man, there is some heavy sh#t going on!
       It is my intention in this post, to draw upon the quite, ever present, ever acting champions. The people, places, and things that lend us inspiration and encouragement, just by virtue of being. These are beings who exist, embedded in the very fabric of our lives, as if to sway gently, steadily, and with constance in the background, yet provide a critical placement that is key in the peace that we do feel.
 And so, my heroes…  are comprised of the little old ladies with practiced, yet natural poise, who carry huge, heavy baskets on their heads, walk for miles, and can laugh with out spilling a drop.
People who have a cause and are rebels who do not lose sight of the grand picture, and remain steady and as light hearted as possible, and bring ease to those around them; effortlessly.
Living, breathing artists who are aware of their God/ Goddess given gifts and do not keep there talents pent up, but share, inspire, create, and spread the colors of their imaginations all over the cities and onto the children, encouraging them and pushing them to do great things.
People who are brave enough to pick up a beat and make it come alive, and/ or who play an instrument and speak the language of love with it, bridging cross cultural gaps. 
The beauty, resilience, and tenacity of every flower, weed, lichen cluster, and blade of grass that bores it’s seed or spore into the side of buildings, cracks of sidewalks, breaks in pavements, whispering softly the song of reclamation.
The      humble gardener with the itty bitty plot who gently and wisely tend their crop, planting flora in the name of healthy eating, good living, sharing the abundance, and beautifying the area to make passer byes happy and meet friends.
The ones who let there freak flag fly (say it 5x fast!) and dare to be. And do this just cause why not. 

Motivated individuals who are driven enough to start up companies that do not compromise their morals, that support free and fair trade, a livable wage, and respect to the people and the land.

I will likely have to come back to this and add. Regularly. A roaming tally.

Feel free to add as well… Who are your heroes???

     “The only people for me are the mad ones. The ones who are mad to love, mad to talk, mad to be saved; the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”
-Jack Kerouac 

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