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If there is one thing I can say about this week... I have gotten really schooled on alternative medicine. So far I've managed to:
+ Drink more water than I have in my life
+ Same goes for tea
+ Eaten way too much RAW garlic (it burns the tongue & the sinuses)
+ Neti pot extravaganza (that little genie bottle that pour salt water in one nostril & out the other)
+ Taken homeopathic tablets
+ Airborne 3 x / day
+ Emergen-C 3x / day
+ Zinc cough drops
+ 2 Kombuchas / day
+ Apple Cider Vinegar in water 3 x/day
+ Steam bath with apple cider vinegar
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I'm feeling a little better.
Ok, a lot better. But I am convinced it's due, mostly, to the love of the two beautiful folks you've been reading an awful lot about. I came out here all scratchy and fuzzy brained, attempted sleep while the crew headed to the local slam and found my mind spinning funny-style, with the signature insomnia new cities often bring. Of course, around 10:30pm a whole handful of random characters arrive to the house and I stay awake long enough to share some (stuffy nosed) poems and homemade french fries. Falling asleep to Pant's song about porcupines and the house settled amazingly quiet for so many random folks in it's belly.
I woke up around 11am to a buzzing scene in the kitchen. "Hamburger's for breakfast!" And someone says, "Mama, that's your plate!" which is an egg on a hamburger or something ridiculously delicious and presto, a cup of tea, too. Heaven and Pants and Aaron and Baraka and Dusty Rose and me eating together and a whole day of lounging around together, although come to think of it Baraka and The Dust both headed off to work and left us their home to make home in. Dre came by for a quick 10 minutes and then Pants and I went in search of a health food store and 'net cafe, singing Erykah Badu (he's now obsessed with "I Want You," duh!) as I drove stick shift up Market Street. I miss driving and I love Oakland. 'Nuff said.
Last night I was sick of spending so much time, um, sick, so I agreed to bring my laptop to the Berkley Slam, working straight through the slam (half listening to the poets), getting an amazing amount of freelance done and then closing the computer to listen to Jaylee, the feature, who I am pleased to tell you I really liked and I am a picky listener. Jamie DeWolf hosted and I think I'd have split stitches in my side, if I had stitches, anyway, because he is the most offensive, rauncy host in the entire world (but you knew that, right?) and the night's theme, of course, was "Drugs, Damage and Destruction." I'll leave it up to your imagination. The word that was to be worked into the poems was "cattleprod." Beautiful. A good night to come out, for sure. I even set up a whole station in the back, with a plastic bag for my tissues. Home can be anywhere. I am also happy to tell you I got two good back massages and that helped my cold a great deal, in spirit.
Oh wait! Please, please, please if you are ever in the Bay Area, go check out Syzygy! This dude blew my mind. He provided the soundtrack to the evening, entirely beat boxed and it... man, it's not even worth trying to explain, please just google him or something.
I have also gotten lazy on the picture taking. Sorry. More to come in the future when I venture out of the house, though I really wish I could show you and Pants and Aaron, truth be told. Last night Aaron told me I remind her of the song "Eryn Smith" by The Matches, a local Oakland band she used to listen to in high school. How amazingly right on is this?:
"She hacks her hair shorter on the left side
'cause if you called her cute she'd be horrified
she says, 'you're gonna eat popcorn in the dark
and pay ten bucks to watch my life some day!'..."
Today we recorded poems and I'm working on design for a presskit for B&D for their hospitality and I'm not sure I really want to go back to New York. I'm not really trying to think about it right now. I love my people. I loooove my people!
This was a conversation entirely in text message between Baraka & I. Transcribed, it makes like a poem, doesn't it? (If you can guess who is who correctly, you get a gift from me. Comment away!)
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would you like to play at questions?
what purples have you dreamed?
how shall we mend you?
bruises on the heart...
my dreams were unfriendly this morn
heal with love
yours: what did you want to be when you
grew up at age 5?
love in many fabrics and flavors
an inventor or a novelist or a movie star...
but really, Spiderman
what song lies under your tongue?
Carol King, Far Away because of how it aches
where in the world do you desperately want to visit?
trinidad cape verde amsterdam to egypt
bali hawaii brazil australia
portal and your daly city apartment
what gets you every time?
That's easy: a good poem
Come to Daly City and read me one
I have to flip it back on you, too good!
oh i left out
your daly city apartment at 4:30am
ahem. and a girl with soft features...
gets me every time
Why 4:30 am?
the best time: just
before the worst hours...
the ethereal corpuscular
how do you worship?
I believe you asked me this in a poem
with words, meditation, journal
sharing, swimming in the ocean,
Alice Coltrane, sex. Give me one
of your dreams.
didn't hear an answer:
joyful solitude...
I walk through suburban houses
followed by an overcoat.
what's your drink of choice?
i dream of wax
Red wine, aphrodisiac of goddesses
what is your favorite thing to
feel between your fingers?
I want to know about your love
soft fabric. dripping clit, cracking vinyl,
sweet areola, dripping cinnabon,
thick chocolate. So many kinds of love:
hip hop, friendlove, dreams, wishes
lust sub
should I hold back?
no holding back allowed
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On that note: we're off to Stacie's to write and then to 16th & Mission for the poetry circle and then I am coming home alone while they do a late night dance party thang that my sinuses already warned me they are not on board for. Tomorrow, off to Fairfax for more of my fabulous family and all is well, thankyouverymuch.
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