half moon sunday

I haven’t been around this corner for a while
And I missed it

So much that tonight
I must come back

And as I stood outside
½ moon California sky
midnight Sunday
and the world goes around

I remember Joseph’s comment
And thank you!
Bukowski, & his spark
his poem & your comment has come back
to my head many times
And Clare’s words
Your always precious words
her poems her prose
And lisa’s comments, my beautiful friend
And your words outside here too
And thilo’s, aah!
And all the silent dear ones! That I know

And some of you
If you read again
I thank
And some faces I’ve seen
Some digitally
Some live
And the oldest one I know
In person I realized
Is Beto!
Mexico city
no doubt the most talented graphic designer I know!
proud to have worked with him!
Every day routine, musica
And the “hard rock café”
So it sounds like a cliché! Great
Ha!

So anyway

Many days have passed
And again this Sunday night
La luna
Me out for a smoke (ha!)
Since my tía visits and I cannot smoke inside

And many things have passed
The theatre
And I was happy again
And then sad
Happy, and sad again many times

But tonight
Is midnight and is Sunday
Night
And I stopped
Looked up and saw the moon
Ah!

She sleeps profoundly
As I type… my aunt
And I almost sure
These clacks clicks clacks
Of the cadence of the type
Are a cradle song for her

And for a change
All the lights of the house
Are out
Only the screen
Illuminates my face
As I type

The past memory of 3 seconds
Outside
Where I took
This blurry map
A map of another day
Another night
In a California
Southern
Night

I found the turn this time!
Just not sure
Why this bad photo I took
Shows a full moon
When in reality
It is just half…
But seems that so is life

a Déjà vu of late
And before visits
Of my aunt
silver screen computer
and words
write/type

in the waiting line

a beautiful song
by zero 7
listen while waiting in line...


Wait in line
'Till your time
Ticking clock
Everyone stop

Everyone's saying different things to me
Different things to me
Everyone's saying different things to me
Different things to me

Woooohh
Do you believe?
In what you see?
There doesn't seem to be anybody else who agrees with me

Do you believe
In what you see
Motionless wheel
Nothing is real
Wasting my time
In the waiting line
Do you believe in
What you see

Nine to five
Living lies
Everyday
Stealing time
Everyone's taking everything they can
Everything they can
Everyone's taking everything they can
Everything they can

Woooohh
Do you believe
In what you feel
It doesn't seem to be anybody else who agrees with me

Do you believe
In what you see
Motionless wheel
Nothing is real
Wasting my time
In the waiting line
Do you believe
In what you see

Ah and I'll shout and I'll scream
But I'd rather not have seen
And i'll hide away for another day

Do you believe?
In what you see?

california freeways: back & forth

Today was one of those days…
where even the good goes wrong

And at the end of it
I realized that:
I have driven these California freeways
Back & forth

I have changed countries
With expectation, with hope

Yet, I haven’t find that place in the world
That I can call my own

Nor in my mind
Nor in my soul
There is no peace

There is not a state of mind
I can call home

I feel like a small boat
Drifting along life

And today
In spite of my family
In spite of my friends
I felt alone
-----
My father told me to hope, and to dream, and to trust
My mother told me to be practical, and specific, and strict

I still follow my father’s heart, which is my nature
I am soft and easy to hurt and incredibly romantic for my own good
I usually take the bread of my mouth to give it to anyone
That smiles at me
I usually sacrifice myself, even more when there is no reason for
I always give away too fast all I have, and I usually end up with empty hands
I haven't learn my lesson, and I don't want to, anyway

I rather be giving and be fooled again
than hold on and being cold and not have given away

I have no secrets, I have no properties nor attachments that go
deeper than these empty words
my transparency gives me a real freedom
one that people don't seem to understand
a freedom I can't myself give an explanation for

As today, my father and I
We are both alone and holding a broken heart
Maybe my mother is right? And my friends?
I should be more practical, less of a dreamer,
Less dramatic, and less ridicule…

But then that person won’t be mine at all

-----

I did the only thing I thought that was right at the end
Of this solitary day
I went to the gym and walked…
I stayed later to see the little kids on a swimming class
I thought that would distract my mind
And then
As the Rolling Stones said:
You might not always get what you want,
But you might find just what you need…
This older man about 50 with deep beautiful blue eyes came and sat next to me
He said:
Do you know that you have the prettiest face around here?
But also the saddest expression on it?

That made me smile, a sad half smile
But a smile

We talked for almost an hour
His 6 year old daughter was at the swimming class
He was surprised I was seated there since any of the kids were mine
I told him I just needed a place to rest my mind
And that if I went home I would have many distractions
We kept on chatting and I was surprised of with so much care and love he talked about his wife and his little daughter. One day, I still dream, a man will talk proudly about me, one day, I hope somebody will call me a dear companion for life, and he'll talk proudly of me, as his girl, one day, somebody, i will call somebody's arms, my home

-------------

But for today, I am drifting
In a California freeway
Alone
Back & forth
Back & forth

nights are always cold

The clever man cares for practical, for tangible
The poet screams again every-day: I don’t know… I don’t know…
and dies on day, usually, alone... I don't mind solitude
what I am afraid of is of a 'half-company', rather all alone

we humans

are perpetually under construction

6th avenue - hillcrest, san diego, 2003

stupid = bush

a couple of days ago
while chatting with a co-worker
i mentioned this blog...

co-worker: "so you have a blog? what's the site's name?"
me: "a chronology of stupidity"
co-worker: "oh, really? another one on bush's goverment?.."
me: (chuckle) "not really... but, i see your point..."

this is a true story!

the only words...

the only words that i can think of, when i read this sad & stupid alternative of our very poor goverment, are the wise words of one American true leader

"Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men."
Martin Luther King Jr., Strength to Love, 1963

american classic

saturday dinner
laundromat
special agent dale cooper's
breakfast-like
7/11 coffee & donuts
endless california
freshly brewed nights

autlán, jalisco

méxico

arthur & george

This book my companion
Of vacation & little plane trips

Novel based on true facts
England and 20th century begins
George Edalji (Aydlji) and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
The protagonists

Barnes is a very different Barnes
From the Barnes on The Lemon Table, or Flaubert’s Parrot

But his words go stylishly fine with Conan Doyle, the Epoch
And George’s British stoicism

A fine novel with delicious tints of tensions
As on the best crime fiction
A sweet after taste of a good case of Sherlock Holmes
early named... Sheridan Hope!

full moon fever

the moon rises full high above
while the night temperature drops cold
like a cycle
they balance together
they come & they go

nature
& my lonely body yearns for an affectionate touch

i wonder if by now
have i forgotten how to kiss?
how to caress?
how to warmly hold a hand - fingers interweaved?
and how to truly, someone, love?

solitude can hurt a woman’s body
sensual dissatisfaction
leaking from the physical
and damaging my soul

drip drip drip
no touch

another cold winter night
laying on my bed
embracing myself
with my colder own

a half woman
unilateral climax
passion
for a long time
has been cut off


also, i found this post back from april 2006, title:
esta mañana
of pencil, of paper, of another sort of love