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Published : 2 years, 8 months ago (Mon, 03 Apr 2006 00:02:18 PDT)
Searched: david mack
http://clocktrivia.livejournal.com/52777.html 0 links
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Last Sunday I went cold turkey after nearly a week and a half of the constant consistent physical companionship of my love, save bathroom breaks and individual showers. It feels like last month.
It's fascinating. Whenever we are looking forward to cohabitation, I think, "One day very soon when we are lying in bed together, I will remember thinking of that day this day." Now, with our alien fiancée importation request processing, I am imagining the moment when I have been welcomed to the lovely land of the Mississippi and all my valuable possessions have found their new loft-home and we are standing looking at each other and there is nothing left to do but start our life together. It is immensely chewy food for feeling.
The forest fire of complex, newly discovered love has dimmed between us to become the warm flutter of simple, true love, landed in the hearth of the deeply comfortable home we are forging as our life together. The least to say is that it is pretty neat.
While here, he produced a snazzy disco-techno song, which I cross my toes he has kept and will share, to illuminate for me the basic capabilities of his laptop ear-stroking gear. I suspect that, in future times, when I send him on grocery runs and have increased audio recording knowledge, he will return to bubbling xylophonic Jewel covers by me.
I predict a substantial improvement in my health on all levels with the arrival of bumblebees and ndelions. Even my passionflower plant is reinvigorated and ready to rock n' bloom just from the few recent days of warmth. I have one month of school left, and exciting things I have planned for my last months in Canada are: a new full-time job in artcentral as either a barista or a waitress, model-drawing sessions, continued tai chi classes, Cirque du Soleil in Vancouver and possibly Victoria, one last respite to Minneapplesauce, an Alan Jackson concert, Folk Fest, and another monetary gift from the province I inherited as home. These highlights will be underscored by seriously lax city-savouring sessions concentrated in the park, 17th Ave, Inglewood, and Kensington, and freelance creativity. A lot of time and energy will be devoted to the construction of my crocheted pearled silk paper wedding dress, shibori windowshades for the loft and pants for my legs, and coiled rugs for the concrete loft floor. My hands are moaning for compulsive, intricate, materialistic lovemaking. I have been crocheting quite a bit and really like the organic way my irregular crocheting looks... I will have to work to maintain that practise.
Tonight, April 2/06, I have embarked on a project. The project is thus: to emulate the experience of Tom Robbins writing and to exercise my creativity by writing one sentence every day for four years until I have a book.
364
x 4
1460 sentences
These are the only rules of my project. I have constructed it this way because Tom Robbins produces a book approximately every four years and I read somewhere that his approach is to relatively consistently write one or so sentences every day, chronologically. It will abstractly and accurately document my life in its metaphorical focus on key events and stimulations.
It's very important for me to have something to replace or at least emulate the motivation of homework when it withdraws from my life. And the timing of this project is tastefully transitory, as I have a month of college remaining - so it overlaps those lifestyles.
The last time I attempted to commit myself to such a grandiose project (doing one new thing every day), I gradually stopped documentation because I began to feel unproductively pressured by my audience to attain and maintain grandiosity in my accomplishments. I didn't stop doing one new thing every day - how could I? - but the headspace, or, more importantly, heartspace I was in prevented me from being able to tap a deep enough internal motivational well. For this reason and others, the documentation of this project will be privately public.
I was also thinking about the way I sleep. It has been years that I've yearned to divide my snoozing into two separate 3-5 hour respites; there are many benefits to that sleeping pattern, from energy to harmony. I decided I would do this once I was out of school. Then the idea went into hibernation.
The other day I acquired the sixth instalment of David Mack's Kabuki: the Alchemy and read this page, and it stirred my earning awake. It might be a strange, awkward, and difficult
transition to make, but strangeness, awkwardness, and difficulty are only effective deterrents to my present sleeping habits. (I VIGOROUSLY encourage you to seek David's work; truly it is the crème de la crème of the graphic novel.)
On the way home tonight, my mother and I stopped at a convenience store for some drumsticks and bingo cards. The man behind the counter, after having watched me billowing in my red silk thai pants and jutting my fuchsia and aubergine silk purse, said, "She is an Arabic goddess!"
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