enlightenment and a muggy octobre.

Yes. I spelled October wrong, or rather, correctly, in French.

It was on purpose. So don't snarl, or sneeze, or choke on your cube of ice, or be upset---

it's silly to get upset, because now i have explained myself.

Isn't that all it is? I have begun, especially after this weekend of "past coming to haunt you and expose the fact that you did not deal with something in a healthy way and now it's returning to eat you alive"

I do, in fact, believe that no one can achieve any sort of answer or understanding by one's own self. Any sort of individual achievement is based off of false pretenses. No matter the feat, the self reliance, another individual, however it may be, gave you some sort of tip off or suggestion or caress or exposure that without, you would not be where you are. Proof?

Proof is the scientific studies that have been done on children that have not been touched as a small child, abandoned, left to fend for themselves----they do not grow, they stagnate because, well I can't tell you scientifically because, but I attempt to understand it as not being in touch with the world, not being connected, staying within the self--and then there is no growth.

And so, we beings interact on a constant basis or a not so constant basis, but we interact. And, oh, how we will always be stumbling and living and working with people with whom we don't agree or even like, or in love with someone, or what have you, and there needs to be communication. Something as simple as, "I'm cold", or "I'm sad" or "I need this".

Is this making sense? That I am not allowed to get angry at another, unless I have completely communicated my needs and wishes. Otherwise, it is your own silly fault for not putting it out there. Even then, it seems, once you have communicated, the anger disappears---it's pointless, because if you have communicated all you can, and they still do not hear you, or do not have the maturity to sit down, listen, compromise, be patient and give explanation, response, a communication of their own needs--then it is something from which you should walk away and cease to have expectations.

But it's on our own selves, to communicate, and it's also upon our own selves that when someone else is trying to communicate, that we listen.

What is needed here: IS TIME.

I could talk more about this, but I can only allow myself a few moments for this blogging business.



Today, I think I reached Western Enlightenment. I was juggling the world--- my bags, an LL Bean wool sweater (WHICH I BOUGHT YESTERDAY FOR A DOLLAR!), some groceries, a cup of coffee from La Colombe, at the bus stop, I called my parents in Hawaii. Just then, the bus came-- I said "HOLD ON MOM", reaching in for two dollars, boarding the bus:::::

THERE I WAS. ON BUS 48. DRINKING COFFEE. THE ONLY POSSESSIONS I NEED PILED IN TWO BAGS AROUND ME. A WARM SWEATER. FOOD.

i thought, yes, so it is that I am hearing about the weather in Hawaii. There it will be sunny,

and here, I know a few things of importance:

it is a muggy Octobre.

my brown coat is at the cleaners.

three and a half years ago, I wanted to move to Alaska and work on a fishing boat----
maybe it's time I take a look at the fact that sometimes, I still do.

but gosh, the combinations that Natalia gives us...



au revoir mes amis.

today.

1. Natalia teaches.

2. la colombe.

3. it rains.

4. lunch.

5. the color maroon.

6. a man collecting rainwater in a bowl.

7. a red rain hat.

8. the library's movie collection.

9. hot chocolate with a tiny puddle jumper.

10. book.

11. sleep.

feeling small amongst familial counterparts

dearest ranges, prairies, wheat fields, and cotton:::

i've had dreams about you lately. there have been no things in my line of vision, no obstruction from horizon.

it's cooler out this morning. skies blue. coffee hot. black due to lack of milk. i haven't had time to sit down for a week. Ashamed to have drank some of my coffee in to go mugs. Coffee, I declared a few years ago, is not a "to go" drink. It is to sit and contemplate, to rest. _____In Spain, throughout the day, most of one's breaks came from grabbing a cafe con leche in one of the many cafes, taking off your boots, chatting with fellow peregrinos. Especially when it rained, it was one solace one could take, and take care of oneself. I remember hiking up, alone, in a mountainous region towards Galicia, through cloud infested towns, sick, cold, tired, wet. Stumbling into a lone cafe in one of the mountain towns...coffee has never tasted so good to me as in that moment.

"How did you sleep?"
"Oh, I suppose alright."
"No, I mean, HOW did you sleep, like, how'd you do it."
"Well, I play hard all day, beat the shit out of myself, and then, there's really no question. I'm exhausted."



I'm playing a part in a play. Letta, the beautiful floozy from Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman. It's a small role and we're being filmed and projected into a dollhouse. I like acting. I don't know if I'm any good. It's true, I do like the stage. Ever since I was little, I recall dreams of acting on stage, or performing on stage, or being on film, or behind the camera. I sometimes wonder why I strayed from this want. It was, so, I became an athlete.----(AH DANCING!)

"get up get up, time for class!" says the Russian instructor. He was my first teacher. Had class on Sunday, the class that used to knock me to the ground---I can now complete and work on the combinations given.

You have to measure yourself with relativity--not with comparison to the rest of the globe-- I thought, after class, so YES, I may not be as good as one could suppose, but let's remember the countless years I could not touch my toes--now, resting my nose upon my knee cap comfortably. Let's remember attempting to drive stick on The Washington Coast, scared, alone, receeding. Now, I cruise around in Quinn, shifting through her gears with such ease and grace...to meet friends, to see people I know, to drive he or she to the airport because I will miss them.

change, can be most excellent.

My family got together Sunday evening for a dinner. Just the four of us. My mother called and said "LET US GO TO THE SMORGASBORD" Of course of course! We sat and ate and chatted and drank coffee until we closed the restaurant. I thought, this is my family? And I have so much fun! And my, we are so inappropriate, and thank you, ma and pa for all those soccer games you attended. NOW DAD, I am more aggressive than my own good! They leave for Hawaii today for five weeks.----but really, as we all stood up at the table to don our jackets and leave into the October airs I thought, my, I feel, actually, quite small, tiny if you will. I looked at my mom, my dad, my brother, all taller and well built and I thought--yes, this is my family, this is where I feel at home in the world, with these people. Stumbling around other people's kitchens, tinier folk, people who can break with the slightest tap, I feel a big fish in a small pond. Around my family, I feel normal, instant, I move around with grace and ease.

so thank you, ma and pa and ancestral counterparts, for making me tall and well built and strong---so I can dance grand and live big, with microscopic intentions.


If I spoke French, I wouldn't be here...

Until next time----think about the importance of the color----

BROWN.

caio,
K

two men on a train.

Man 1: I think I would like to get a hot dog when we get off the train.
Man 2: You know, speaking of hot dogs, I was very confused when I first came to America. Oscar Meyer is a department store where I'm from, here, it's a hot dog company.
Man 1: Yeah? I didn't know that.
Man 2: I'm a big fan of ballpark franks.
Man 1: Nah, they're too chewy. I'm an Oscar Meyer man myself.
Man 2: You would hate hot dogs in the Phillipeans.
Man 1: Why's that?
Man 2: They've got this real thick skin.
Man 1: Oh. (pause)
Man 2: You should have seen my dad when we first came to America. He was really upset by the American hot dog.
Man 1: Yeah?
Man 2: Yeah.
Man 1: This is our stop. I think I'll get some coffee as well.

teacher.

she stormed out in stabbing flats, well pressed capris, a miracle of a trench coat and sunglasses to top it off.

Les sixieme Octobre:::::::

the combinations she gives speak for themselves.

stirrup pants, a barge, and a teacup that never sleeps

it can always be felt, that tenderly approaching sickness:::::making it a weekend, barely remembered.




it's sometimes a good excuse, to stay in and patch all those holes in your jeans, or plan out your future on some cardboard with cutouts and paints and make a nice collage of your childhood dreams. or lament in your bathtub about this that and the other.




things happened though:::that were quite interesting:::




i've always been interested in water and boats really do make my knees weak. i took a wee trip down memory trail and thought a lot this weekend about my time out on The Washington Coast. Just three weeks. It wasn't a:::


BICYCLE TRIP ACROSS EUROPE

or a

TEACHING JOB IN SOUTH ASIA

or a

CLIMBING TRIP IN THE ANDES

or a

RAFTING DOWN THE FUCK KNOWS RIVER IN BRITISH COLUMBIA



I was alone, with a bag, and my severely pious thoughts. There was a cat named Chloe. I walked everywhere and I took buses. I was happy and autonomous.





and I think I hear about all these trips that people take, or adventures and I feel bad for our generation, that we feel this need to do these extravagant things. That making a life, finding a daily existence that we enjoy is, not enough. That building a family, and building a career now maintain these negative characteristics.





To be honest, I think people who travel too much are boring. Tell me about the way your skin feels in a seasonal change, or the taste of first autumn squash soup, or how it hurts sometimes when the small child says those cutting words, and or you read a really great book and bought some new levis and "hey" let's go out tonight to the usual spot for the usual drinks with the usual crowd. There's something to this.





I think once you know a place, it's climate, it's behavior, it's people---then you can begin to live. Really, those who know one place and one place alone, might have more substance in their internal regions than those who have seen and heard and tasted things from the farthest regions.




Then again, I do love exotic things.




i suppose, as all things, a balance sustains.




I did start with boats though:::wanting to tell you about the barge I watched go by on the delaware. Alongside were tugboats, their lights delicate and particular, the goods loaded many and high on the top deck. I thought, yes, someday soon I would like to be on a boat. I would like my mundane to be in movement. I would like to smell the salty sea every morning, with a cup of coffee, and have a hard days work ahead of me.




But for now, I can watch. And get my nails done--painted with--a soft brown---




DOWN TO MY VERY LAST PENNY.






K





ps. I SAW STIRRUP PANTS YESTERDAY.


THEY ARE BACK.