1000 miles ahead of me

I will be back on Sunday for sure-- if not Saturday night. I do enjoy a good Weddington party.

Portland is great.
Remind me to tell you about my Mackenzie River Baptism...

Love is life is love.

M

leaving the city

Tomorrow morning as early as I can muster, I shall take off up the coast. I am embarrassingly unprepared, but that will only make things, um, more exciting.

I love taking solo trips and seeing people I rarely see or have never actually met before. For some reason, it feels like this is one of the essential components to the path and purpose of my life. I reconnect with myself, let go of a lot of emotional un-necessities, and swim around in new places, people and ideas. My heart always feels more open and my senses are more alert during those times. Hope and love is revived within.

Destination: Portland-- by way of Santa Cruz and whatever else.

Stories and a few pix will be posted upon my return. (unless I happen upon the interweb during my travels)

Have a wonderful week, monkeys. I mean that most sincerely.

Post Script to Monday

I almost forgot the most exciting thing about Monday.
We were at the LACMA and eating lunch and at the next table over there was a very elderly man who looked exactly like Don Herbert-- TV's Mister Wizard from the early 80's. Doing the math, he'd be in his late 80's-- so it works out. And I googled him. He's still alive! I'm sure it was him. Probably the coolest celeb sighting of my Los Angeles career.

Perhaps my need to share this with you is what woke me up at 6AM and prevented me from falling back asleep. Why can't I fall back asleep?

My arms hurt from my shoulders to my knuckles.

cellobratory

This is my uncle Yendor who treated me to breakfast on July 1st in a diner at a tiny airfield in Upland, CA. I was on my way farther inland and was able to cross paths with him before he wrapped up things with his cello workshop in Claremont.
After breakfast, we looked at some planes. I had no idea they were so light and plastic-y.

---


In other news, I saw the David Hockney exibit at the LACMA today w/ Joan & Rosalie. It was good. I enjoyed his potography stuff the best. I'm always so reluctant to go to art museums, but once I get there I do feel inspired.

Then I came home, puttered around, and wrote my first song on the guitar.

---


In still other news: on recommendation, I purchased "The Time Travelers's Wife". That's right folks, I will read a whole grown-up 500+ page BOOK. Or will I? no, no, I will. I will.

Further photographic study

They go so well together as a set, I had to give the moment its own post:











This is how you deflate an aerobed in Mexico when you are no longer in a rush.

throwback to dreamlog days

I finally dreamed about my mother after months of nothing:
There were spiders by my bed.
I went in search of a vacuum cleaner.
I found my mother lying sideways on her bed. Her stomach was HUGE with tumors. She looked 9 months pregnant.
She was saying things that didn't make any sense. That was one of the signs that she was slipping away the first time. I ran to her and took her hand and said loudly "what did you say?" I wanted to wake her up a bit. She said "I"m glad we had all those times." I started to cry (which I also haven't really done in a long time). I was kneeling by her and put my face in her hand. (as I did many times in real life the first time around). "Oh, I am going to MISS you, momma! I remember when the first half of you died, and I talked to you a lot afterwards. Do you remember that? Could you hear me?" She hesitated and replied apologetically "not consciously" and I said "not consciously?" at the same time. We smiled because we were both thinking the same thing. We were amidst serious discussion about what she could do to show me that she was still around after she died this time, but I woke up in the middle of it.

It was good to see her again. Her hands were so soft. But she looked horribly uncomfortable, which was sad. I didn't envy her the task of having to die again. It didn't look easy the first time.

---

Okay! Got that down. I'm already forgetting parts of it. I also remember parts about small airplanes landing and I was stuck on an airstrip trying to get out of the way. And I also remember parts about someone telling me my hair looked awful and that I should get it cut. That part may have been as I was on my way to the dusty, small town airstrip.

My dreamlife is one hundred times more fascinating than my waking life.

Week roundup - The Vacation Edition

I spent the majority of the last week in or around the Inland Empire at the following specific locations: Redlands, Beaumont and Big Bear.

I hung out with family and with friends who are LIKE family.

I saw a few movies: "Cars" = bad. "The Devil Wears Prada" = entertaining.

I ate sandwiches on a boat on a lake.

I forced my 13 year old cousin to watch Star Wars for the first time.

I ate a lot of Nutter Butters.

I saw some of the greatest fireworks.

I relaxed and didn't think about anything important at all aside from when I am driving up the coast. And I still haven't decided when I'm doing that...

I won a few games of scrabble.

I pondered the idea of getting a tattoo.

I sang along to songs in my car all the way back to LA.

I am finding myself missing a lot of people today.

I'm already losing track of time

I forgot today was Friday and it didn't matter.

I saw "Superman", which I liked very much.
I had tea with an old friend I haven't seen since Freshman year of college, which I liked arguably more than "Superman" even.
I gave my friend Jon some flashlights for his birthday.
I gave big hugs to three good friends who all had their last day at DreamWorks today. Ahh.. winds of change.
I love it when friends seem tickled by the drawings I make for them. It's really the whole reason I make them at all.

Saturday morning, I'm off to meet my uncle Yendor for breakfast at a tiny airport in Upland, then I'm driving to Redlands for a 1 year old's birthday party, and then I'm heading to Big Bear for some altitude. (see below)






Have a wonderful beginning of July, faithful readers. (both of you!)

peace, love, soap--

Melinda

If I stay awake long enough...

...I get into the old photos.



This is one of my favorite pictures of me and my mother. I know I've posted it before. But I forget about it and then I find it again. It's just... so... how it used to be. We were on our own paths, but walking together. And I still feel like we're walking together. So it makes me happy to see that photograph.


And this one too:




These days, I have moments like this. But I'm not sad, and I don't cry. I just sit, a bit puzzled-- bewildered by my reality. And it's okay.

Oil Spoils

So, Wednesday afternoon-- since I'm on vacation-- I was free and decided to go with Donnie and Elease to protest America's dependence on oil and to protest Oil companies contributing money to congress. We stood at a Sherman Oaks gas station at the corner of Van Nuys and Ventura.

A small but determined bunch (it was 100 degrees out):




D & E & Signs:




The police did show up. But they just told us not to block the sidewalk.




Shadows of Activism:




Nobody actually oinked. But we did get a few middle fingers.





The saddest part was when we were walking back to the car, we were still carrying our signs and some chick in a VW bug pulled up, rolled down her window, flicked us off and shouted "fuck you! Get a fucking job, hippies!"

Let's ignore the fact that there seems to be a trend of people shouting at me from their cars and accusing me of being a hippie. Let's also put aside for the moment the fact that we all have jobs. Why couldn't this bitch see that were demonstrating to support an idea that nobody can really argue: America is dependent on oil. Our government chooses not to provide the masses with alternative automotive technology or fuel sources. This is due in no small part to all the money it gets from the oil companies to insure that we all keep pumping that shit into our cars.

Anyways... that lady had some serious displaced agression and misguided anger.

But all in all, it was a good afternoon and peaceful protest.

What does Thursday hold? I'll wake up in a few hours and find out.

Vacation Wednesday

What is fun is taking time off and not processing grief.
What is fun is eating watermelon for lunch.
What is fun is itunes shuffling through songs I forgot I had.
What is fun is getting to write like this from my own computer in my own apartment.

I'll be dagnabbed sonofbitch it's gonna be a good July. I am absolutely insisting on it.

I kiss you!

- Monkey

I'm on vacation

I'm on vacation and nothing bad had to happen for me to take time off, which is good 'cause I only have one parent left. (Dad: if that cold doesn't get better, go to the doctor OK???)

I'm on vacation and I set up internet all by myself today! So now I can sit here and listen to music and post pictures from my recent adventures.



Deflation of an aerobed in Mexico:





Phil's Karaoke Birthday: I would like to say that the funky exposure is my artistic way of illustrating how drunk everyone was. But really, my camera's shutter is just lame and slow.





San Diego. Yes that's a cigar. Yes I smoked it. But only 'cause it was chocolate flavored...





And finally, a photo of a slide projected on my dad's kitchen wall. My mother 28 years ago pregnant w/ me (obviously this is why she is smiling):

Meanwhile, somewhere in Southern California...

Me: Yeah, a bunch of people in my apt. complex have wifi but they all require passwords.
You: You must live around a bunch of assholes.
Me: Yeah.
You: I just steal mine from the abortion clinic next door. They have unprotected internet.
Me: The abortion clinic has unprotected internet???


There are certain people I can always count on to get me to crack a smile-- even when I'm blue as the deep sea.

Have a wonderful weekend. And if you happen to be going to Belize, have a safe trip!

anniversary

I was just reminded that today would have been my parents' 32nd wedding anniversary.

It's such a damn shame about life sometimes.

So this post really goes out to my dad for keepin' on keepin' on.

Love,

Melinda

(pictured above, me on my way into a tree pose on a Mexican beach last Sunday. I have my mother to thank for putting me in children's yoga and creative movement classes when I was little.)

crossing boarders

Weekend First list:

First Trip to Mexico - (check!)
First head-under-water for-real swimming in the Pacific Ocean - (check!)
First two-night/two-day-long beach party with constant bass beat background - (check!)
First 3.5 hour wait in Tijuana to enter the United States - (check!)

My weekend was full of fantastic things including fun friends, tacos, lots of bottled water, no showering, fire dancers, electronica/techno, sun, sand everywhere, my new swimming suit, a few games of pool, sunscreen, sarongs, dancing, dancing, photographs, costumed people, a free breakfast burrito at 6:45 AM on Saturday, sand-dollars, Advil cold/sinus multisymptom, vitamin C, cough drops, kleenex, flip flops, my little blue camping tent, straw cowboy hat, sunglasses, tiny lanterns from the $1 section at Target, many layers of clothing at nightime, big Pacific ocean waves, sand sculptures, napping in a portable hammock, tiki torches, a never ending game of Uno, good vibes.

I'm back and I survived and I'm not scared of Mexico anymore.

: )

Another irrational fear has been squashed.

Have a nice day.

Decade Look-back

Pictured is the movie theater I worked at when I was 18.

It was my first job with a real paycheck (read: first real taxable income). It was also my first job "in the movies".

Recently, I went home to find that "Over The Hedge" was playing there. I had a fun moment of thinking about how on that very day my name was scrolling up in the end credits of a movie playing on a screen in a theater from whose floor I swept up popcorn exactly ten years ago.

I do not miss the neon-colored plastic aprons and bowties...

March 12th, 2006

Sunday is the one year anniversary of the death of my mother-- who died far too young (age 61) and most unfairly at the hands of colon cancer that crept silently into her liver and killed her.

There are often times when I think about life and death and how many times it claims such fantastically wonderful people. And the only conclusion that makes any sense is that it is a secret blessing. "Time off for good behavior", I call it.

But that's about as philosophical as I can get tonight. I'm toasting her with a little shiraz (2001) and a couple of dark chocolate Bahlsen Afrika cookies (one of her favorite kinds).

I still miss her-- and not any more or any less than I did one year ago immediately after she exhaled her very last breath and we couldn't find a pulse and it was all over and I couldn't imagine how I was possibly expected to live the rest of my own life afterward.

It's been one hell of a 12 months.
And guess what?
I found an apartment to live in when my housesitting gig is over at the end of March.
I signed the lease today and I can move in on the 15th. I think I will take advantage of the overlapping time and move in slowly and find the right furniture and settle in right.

It is a cute little studio. Very small, but I feel good about it. And I want to shout out like a kid on the monkey bars, "hey, Mom! Look! Look what I did all by myself!" I think she would like the place. It's nice, new and clean. And it's in a hilly area with cute houses and you can take lovely walks.

And I shall dedicate my walks to her.

She was one of my all time favoritest people in the whole universe.
She was the only person I always felt completely comfortable around. I think that that's probably because for a period of about 9 months back in the late 70's, we hung out in the same place: her body.

It's weird to think her body only exists now in the form of handfulls of ashes distributed to various family members and scattered amongst various geographical locations.

My handful resides in a small but lovely wooden box that will be the center of a small alter I will make in my new apartment.

This place came along at the very time I desperately needed something to look forward to. I'd like to believe I didn't find it completely on my own. It may have been luck, or it may have been her spirit silently moving me in the right direction.

Either way...

I'm a little more hopeful than I was 7 days ago. And that's something.

Thanks for stopping by.



Below: 2 years ago.

A Birthday Post

This is a post is about the man who is my father.





It was right around this time 62 years ago that he popped out of the womb ready to greet the world and see what was going on.

He practiced the violin, had a pet raccoon, went to college, managed to avoid the Viet Nam draft, met my mom, got married, and had ME and my sister.

I know I'm leaving out a lot of specifics, but I'm waiting for him to write his memoirs and then I will do a documentary about it. I wouldn't want to spoil all that by listing it all here now.






My father wore-- and still wears many hats. He is many different things to different people.

In lieu of a bad rhyming poem, I am writing a boring old list.

This list is a list of what my father is to me: (in no particular order of importance)

Violinist
Artist
Teacher
Father
Provider
Pencil Magician
Musician (I've never seen him pick up an instrument he couldn't figure out how to play)
Junk Hauler
Prop Master
Bargain Finder
Editor
Proofreader of School Assignments
Breather of Helium and maker of funny voices.
Freberg quoter
Eater of Oatmeal
Chauffeur
Payer of College Tuition
Swimmer
Associate Concertmaster
Concertmaster
Composer
Transcriber
Doer of his own taxes
Lawn Mower
Sail Boater
Moped-er
Vegetable Juicer
Pic Line Flusher
Foot rubber
Arm tickler
Santa Clause
Drawer of Paganini Charicatures
Costume Designer
Wolfman Mask Wearer
Sculpter
Photographer
Videographer
Scrabble Player
Trivial Persuit Master
Partaker of a buffet
Coffee Drinker
Traveler
Comedian
Punster
Writer
Cook
Baker of Violin Cakes
Birthday Song Harmonizer
Builder of Snow Forts
Mystery Gift Wrangler
Collector of old produce
Apple Pie Maker
Stir Fryer
Beard grower
Etc.
And so and so and so and so...

My dad was the subject of one of the very earliest dreams I ever remember having. I was four years old and my dad was still in Miami finishing up his job at the university. We had already moved back to Lexington. And one night I had a dream that we were in the front yard in Florida and we were looking a different little piles of grass clippings on these different bookshelves in the middle of the yard. Then I heard a helicopter. Then there were machine guns shooting at us from the helicoptor. We scattered and ran around trying to get away, but then my dad got shot and died and never came back from Miami. I woke up in tears. And I couldn't wait for him to come home.

Pretty wild that I still remember that 24 years later don't you think?

Anyway, he DID return from Florida and I was very relieved to have my daddy back.

My father is starting his 63rd year (having just completed his 62nd. See how that works?) with yet another title added to the list. "Widower".

My pride of him only grows greater.

I owe a huge percentage of the success of my 28 years of life to him. And I am who I am because he is who he is. And I mean that all in a good way!

One thing I miss this year: Getting the phone calls from my mother that start with her laughing and saying "you'll never guess what your father just did!" or saying "I just had to call you and tell you what your father just hauled home on the back of the truck!"

Hats off to you, Pops!
I have unfortunately inherited a bit of your tardiness, and I'll be mailing you your birthday card ON your birthday. So you might get it a little late. But the present from Me and Carrie should have already gotten there...

I love you, Daddy!!!

Happy Birthday!!!

From your firstborn (who will always pluck the E-string as an accent in "Go Tell Aunt Rhody" as a tribute to our first musical inside joke),

Melinda

my own personal new year's day

My Halloween Costume

On Saturday night, I attended a fantastic costume birthday party.




Everyone was dressed up and we were taking lots of crazy pictures.





I dress up as Autumnal Splendor every Halloween, but this year there was a "dress as a movie character" theme. So I went as The Shrubbery from Monty Python and The Holy Grail.