these past two weeks i escaped death twice
danced in a desert paradise
got on 2 coast-to-coast flights
and lived someone else's life for one night.

these past two weeks i heard prince sing
slept in a hotel bed fit for a king
slept in a tent, camping
slept in the bed i grew up sleeping in.

these past two weeks i got on a train
to spend one day in
what could be my future
then accepted an invitation from the past to disappear
into the ether
packed and repacked for a place neither
there nor here
then two weeks later
returned home, to get my now in order.

between SAYING you want something different, and actually proving it is in what you do when you get the chance.  

freakin...... ow.

so unbelievably strange.

tonight someone got rewarded for being the best.

as if life was suddenly easy and fair, because only if it were, would this be what you would get for being the best.

and heartache and disappointment could never touch you again.

of course.... that's never what it means, is it?

the mind can be cruel and masochistic, and the heart can be foolish and deluded.... but i think the soul knows the truth. the spirit that is neither defined by thought nor emotion, but something else entirely. something between existence and expression. perhaps something that we don't even have a word for. something beyond human control. halfway between the supernatural and the divine. something we have no control over, and only one choice about: and that is either to obey it or not.

there is no amount of discipline that can let you be the best at obeying the soul despite everything that the mind and heart put in your way to distract you.

it is the most unfair, uncontrollable unpredictable reward to ever make you believe in fairness.

i go to bed tonight confusing it with destiny.

i go to bed tonight, excited in a way that has been making my heart pound and palms sweat for a friend who is getting to become a part of that which he grew up looking up to. someone who deserves it, because for anyone else the mind or the heart would have taken all the credit.

I don't hate players, I don't love the game
I'm the shot clock, way above the game
To be point blank with you motherfuck the game
I got all this work on me, I ain't come for play
You can show the little shorties how you pump and fake
But dog, Not to def, I'm not impressed
I'm not amused, I'm not confused, I'm not to dude
I'm grown man business, and I am not in school
Put your hand down youngin' this is not for you

- mos def "sunshine"

last night i discovered that if i'm ever getting to a point where all the ideas are just becoming incomprehenisble muck in the meat grinder, and i feel as if i have nothing insightful to distill out of the goop, nor any real way of identifying what to say....

all i have to do is go visit mr big, and he takes care of it.

i mean, he doesn't write it for me, but he basically just shows--i mean reminds, i mean shows--me that it's really not hard at all. just sit down and start clacking, and if you've got it, it will work itself out.


i's done got it.

some days i doubt for all of us in the troupe
walking up there on the tightrope
i wonder what on earth might
have brought us to such treacherous heights
following an escape route we fought to untap
now we can't get down. trapped on the trap
locked in that precarious aerial fight
against gravity itself, to stay aflight

and other days, i can see without even having to gaze
there's something down there, below the haze
there's something to catch us if we fall
and then suddenly the fear isn't so big at all
and even falling doesn't feel so tragic

...those are the days even falling is just part of the magic.

i had a dream that mr. big was engaged!

:(

it's the fourth of july which means it's time to write the annual "i miss boston"  livejournal entry.

but tonight i miss more than boston.

it's season four of sex and the city on my netflix clock, and carrie and aidan just broke up, and then big moved to napa.
and i miss carrie and aidan
and i miss carrie and mr. big

and i miss MY mr. big.
i wish he'd do more episodes but he won't.
i miss the episodes he's never going to do.

i went by the do lab today to do an interview with current, and i discovered i miss the dolab.
i discovered, i'm also apparenty, "miss soundbyte" and i said, right on carrie cue, "well, i'm not the director of whatever i am for nothin", but that's another story. that's a story about the things i don't miss. because i don't have to. that's a story about the things i get. but that's not this story.

i miss sleep. i have absolutely no more clock now that i have nowhere to punch in, and my whole internal rythmn's freaking out. insomnia sucks, and the sweltering heat is not helping it evaporate, unfortunately.

i....... am getting off track.
i miss the reservoir. i miss the charles river. i miss chebeague. i miss everything that came before the quarterlife crisis arrived. i miss all the secret boston spots that ony boston pubic school kids know. the spots in the fens, the sponts in the arboretum, the spots in the back bay, the south end, tdowntwon and all over the emerald necklace. i miss the harrowing turns of the jamaicaway, and the automated announcer at the end of the redline that told you "you have reached ashmont station. this is the last stop. don't forget your belongings."

this is the day of rememberance of a gilded little adolescence of summers, and i miss EVERY SINGE LINE of playing future that both ever did and did not happen. i miss the winters too, but we won't go into that.

it's fourth of july, it's jason's last birthday in his 20's and i must remember to call him tomorrow and thank my lucky ducky stars that i did not miss him saying one of the CLEVEREST motherfucking things i've ever heard in my entire life, that forever cemented this hit and miss mythoogy we've got.

it's season four in l.a.
it's the exhibit of my life.

and i'm the curator, but i miss the fireworks....

filing destinies
in scrapbooks filled with
flyers and postcards
from chance encounters
that were always
on the verge of happening
just at the moment
they meant everything
and nothing at all.

changing the course of every ship
in relation to the last
direction. navigating
by quixotic stars
that never shine in the same sky
but you can see each one when you're ready
to see

and this changed everything
every time you saw
fate stretching from c to z
wait, but what about a and b?
well...a and b came first of course
serenading the bon voyage
from coast to coast
the am-en br-eak backbeat of the whole tale
the band
tying it all together
the green dress and striped stockings
black latex angel wings
feathers befitting birds of paradise
(well, he DID say it's "all about the accessories"
--and he would know)
a courduroy jacket and a button down shirt

fashion ain't the only creative industry that doesn't have copyrights
the other is coincidence.

this changed everything.