Thursday, December 6, 2007

A Bono-Like Solution


What a delight.

I spent the first few hours of my day with a rag in hand, dusting the bloody hell out of my bedroom.
And even though I hate to sound like a new-age female, the kind you meet at yoga studios, standing in line at Pure Food & Wine, and Whole Foods sometimes, (as even Whole Foods has morphed into some sort of Wall-Mart like Mecca for the supposedly health conscious consumer. I’m not buying it. One word, well two: Farmer’s Markets. Really people!)
Anyways- I can honestly say that the energy in here is now blissful.

Maybe that’s what’s wrong with the world today. It’s too goddamn dusty. We should have a worldwide Dust The World Day, and see what would happen. Imagine the changes that could occur!
Although maybe it would have to start with baby steps, something more “local”. Maybe we could have a Worldwide Dust (at least) Your House Day, see how that goes and then go for the “World” thing.

My Dusting Theory is as follows:

Information received via my lovely fellow: Wikipedia.

Okay, so we have DUST: minute solid particles with diameters less than 500 micrometers.
If enough of the minute particles are dispersed within the air in a given area (such as flour or coal dust) under certain circumstances, this can be an explosion hazard.

Now think of the world today, it’s as if we’re constantly avoiding hazards. Hazards in the home, in the workplace, in relationships, on the street, in the air (though will admit I’ve never had a fear of flying, just love it. Love not being attached to anything, it’s like I can just relax, my phone won’t ring, I’m not supposed to be anywhere but, there on that way too small seat, sitting next to either a family member, friend, or that weird stranger I saw while boarding, who I knew instantly was going to be sitting two inches from me!) etc.

Anyways- so there we are, trying to navigate our life, so that we don’t end up being bombed, thus probably limbless, heartless and maybe even mindless.

In one sense I think we’ve been anciently screwed over.

Maybe, and this is my pessimistic side coming out, we shouldn’t even bother as more than likely we’re not meant for this ‘dirty’ world.
Maybe it’s all preordained and in the end, no matter what, this life amounts to well… Dust.

The Sumerians say:
“The afterlife consists of the dreary “House of Dust and Darkness”.

(How dreary!)

Even the Bible says:

Following The FALL of Adam and Eve (God bless those poor people) transgression- states to the couple (representing Humanity):
“By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground since from it you were taken, for dust you are to dust you will return.”

But wait. I can’t possibly go on thinking like that!
I must return to my Bono-like ‘make the world better’ outlook on things.

So maybe that’s all true, and the Sumerians were right.
Jesus was right, (I mean we’re constantly being told to ask The Fellow what He would do, i.e. “what should we do?”)
Is it possible that what really matters, if all of that’s true, is how we can make the journey easier?
How can we get back, to wherever we’re from with our souls still intact, still full of light and love and…well, all things good?

My answer:

Do as Pan would do.
Get out a heaping bag of Pixie Dust.

(No, I’m not talking about coke, although for some, that might help too. And because I’m not judgemental, I say if you can do it, and not get pulled down by it, if you need it occasionally, why the hell not? Personal Liberty was created for a reason people! : )

Think with the innocence of a child, get wet in the rain and dirty jumping through puddles.
Take the good, with the bad.
As my mum would say, things only get dirty before they get clean.
A lived in house, is sometimes a dirty house.

And once a year, as a collective group of “Pan’s People” we’ll celebrate worldwide
Dust The World Day!

Starting with of course, Dust (at least) Your House Day, just until it becomes chic enough, and we’ve got a few celebrities on board.
Oprah will have a whole show dedicated to it and guess what the audience members will all be getting as gifts?
Vacuum dusters that are eco-friendly, solar powered and made out of corn, having been created by Jivamukti’s founders, they also follow the same energetic flow as the body, meaning they’ll be pranayamically sound. Just perfect for the home!


Think happy thoughts, as Pan would say.

Note my optimism, compared to the last few posts. I think I’m beginning to see the light.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

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Because Sometimes Poetry Says It All

Okay, so it's only been a day, I'm still confused.

Naturally I'm not going to have all the solutions that are needed for me to feel at peace, just yet.
Even though I wish I had that 'instant-fix' talent.

(Why can't we all just have a motherfuckin' Fairy Godmother? Jesus Christ, that would have solved a lot of my major issues growing up!
Example A: That time Shrada told my mum about my weed adventure in the woods of Mississippi when I was twelve. My Fairy Godmother "Naya" as I've titled her, would have tapped that bitch on the shoulder with her wand, and her mouth would have stayed taped shut until she forgot about the whole thing, thus preventing my mum from freaking out which then caused me to freak out, as I did hate to disappoint my parents. I mean, I didn't even get flippin’ high!
Example B: (This is much more of an internal issue, than a major life changing issue, but still, something Naya could have helped with if she did fucking exist).
That time I so wanted to be the muse of a local artist I've met here in New York. I have these weird fantasies that I think are possibly inspired by a previous birth, of which I was some sort of muse and now in this life I'm in dire need to regain that role. So, Naya, with all her powers and compassion, and of course, her magical wand, would have tapped (or just plain old ATTACKED me with her damn "Lord of The Ring Crazy Beautiful thing" and magically, there I would be, a muse reborn).


I had a panic attack at 2:00 AM last night/this morning. I got up, underwent some therapy in the form of "those things which I won't directly name" just in case my parents end up reading this and called my little brother who lives in L.A.
Okay, so just because he's 19 (or is he 20 years old?) doesn't mean he can't be of help. Actually, all my brothers, save my youngest one, are the best men I know. I only discredit my youngest one, as he's just a 9 yeas old boy, not really a man if you ask me.
If I weren't directly related to them, I might consider wooing at least one them... but that's just a bad thought, seeing as I am.

So yeah, he got me through the anxiety attack- my breathing calmed and I wasn't totally upset when I finally went to bed at 3:00 AM.

But now it's four o'clock in the afternoon and life is still not that fabulous and the only thing that could describe what I'm feeling, is this poem I wrote a year ago, when I was still under the veil of youthful folly.



I am here,
under the Sun.
My eyes are shielded by a cap,
and my skin is glowing, burning, bronzing.

My thoughts compete for attention,
constant direction, meaning and inflection.
I let go with a blink.
I want to drain myself like a sink.

I allow no one into my heart,
it is a calculated resolve.
In this choice, there is no doubt.
And so, it skips
only to the sound of a beep,
a cry, a laugh.
It's been caught, snagged and dragged,
too far, too soon, the allowance is out.

On grass, I put one hand to the ground,
it is stained, green and brown.
Colors of comfort, of Earth.
My feet turn to the sky,
and I lean forward to give birth
to a cartwheel. Blessed,
it is spinning and spurning,
spontaneous mirth.
Instant youthful smiles,
and a guileless mess.

My thoughts compete for attention,
constant direction, meaning and inflection.
I let go with a blink.
I want to drain myself like a sink.

In water, with my eyes closed and arms outstretched,
I feel my way to the bottom of the sea.
My lungs do not burn and ache to breathe,
the cool, calming wind of air.
I let go, and lose control, my body
turns to wherever the current will take me.
I let go of my need to think,
this water, this ocean, is my sink.

And so I sink,
to the essence of my soul,
and there....I find myself whole.


Okay, so that last stanza is bullshit at the moment. I'm not feeling whole. I'm feeling a bit wholly-confused-pissed off-"God Throw Me A Freaking Shark Bone!" at the moment.
And to make matters worse, my skin is still going through some crazy stress related bs. The only thing I'm happy about, is that the bags under my eyes aren't too apparent. My left eye, which usually is my "bad eye" due to an accident as a child, is fine! It's stunning!

So- I guess, George "Kioki" Harrison was right when he said "All Things Must Pass".
Meaning- all will be fine, eventually.

And then you'll all be hearing about the more than fabulous aspects life has to offer.

Until then, misery loves company, and I beg for your patience and forgiveness.


Monday, December 3, 2007

If Only I Had An Eraser

Okay, so I’ve spent most of the day lounging around my friend Ken’s apt, shoot me!
Actually don’t, there isn’t much more I can take at the moment.

Life is a funny little game, like the ones you used to play as a child, the little maps you had to navigate within, from start to finish, sometimes hitting a dead end. You know, the one’s they make in coloring books.

My life seems to have taken inspiration from them. It’s as if I’ve hit a brick wall of sorts, and instead of “it” being a creative hit like Pink Floyds, mine is more like an idiot who’s found herself at the end of Manhattan’s shortest street, (Jersey St.) and is now not only in need of some major solutions, but is suffering from frostbite because it’s so darn cold!
And I’ve got a major welt on my forehead alongside some little zit like things that have emerged over the past few days, due to stress. (I don’t suffer from Acne, thank God).

Okay, so hypothetically speaking the smartest thing for me to do is turn around and begin again. As a child that simply meant, take the eraser and get on with it. Unfortunately, there are no real erasers, for anything but pens and pencils, so I’m left feeling a little bit, well, tired and marked. Not scarred, as that would promote too much of a negative, abused like feeling, when in fact I feel the completely fine, just confused.

Math was never my strong point, and I’ve always been better at fixing other people’s problems then my own. I’m not sure why. Maybe I have a hard time letting go and just stepping back and emotionally detaching myself so as to observe the situation more clearly which would then help to make the best possible decisions.

Maybe I really am my mother’s daughter and carry a suitcase of pride and have issues about asking for help, when that’s just what I should be doing.

Which leads me to question, if I am to ask, to whom do I ask?

I’m going to ponder this… and I’ll get back to you all in a bit.


Sunday, December 2, 2007

Just In Case You Care:

The Horny High Schoolers left at approximately 8:48.

Thank the Heavens!

Remember When? Me: Not Really.

I’m at my local cafĂ©, have been all day. Writing and reading and now, taking in the view, which is that of a high school couple, two locals, making out.

It’s as if there is no tomorrow. It’s as if she’s really saying, “fuck me!”
But all he’s hearing is what she said to seconds ago:“ I love this song, it makes me sooo happy!” as a cover of Landslide played on the loud speakers.
Watching this is beginning to feel like watching a landslide actually, and all I want to do is go over there and yank her hair and tell her to get back to doing homework, or making home-made Christmas cards, or planning her next trip to the movies with her girlfriends. Something that seems remotely age appropriate!
Raveen, definitely needs to do something about this. His girl needs some major action, and even though I’m an idealist and have never considered using a public restroom for such purposes, I almost want to drag them both down there and lock the door until they’ve done the deed!
Just so that I can selfishly go back to comfortably drinking my triple shot latte and writing!
(Yes, I know, that’s far too much caffeine to be drinking at 8:00, but I’m cold and that’s just the way I like my coffee to taste).

I mean they must be going to sex-ed classes. They must be tuned into all the precautions that they should take!
Society today is overly sexualized. I’m not at all shocked that they’ve been going about things as they have, I mean this MTV-generation has made sure that today nothing is too much.
Actually, nothing is ever enough.
She’s not showing enough skin, she's too much of a prude, (when is she going to do a sex scene so that the world can see her tits) he’s not being metro enough, he's too gay, he's too much of a chauvinst, that celebrity’s fall from fame isn’t far down enough, that writers follow up isn't like his previous work it's too different, she's too much of a housewife, she's too much of a hard-ass boss, etc.

Ron at the counter keeps giving me the "look" as I’ve moved over, a table closer to them, in hopes that my presence might effect their overly affectionate/nasty/dirty behavior. But they have NO SHAME.
(Shame it seems, doesn't make too many appearances in today's're lucky if you get somewhat of a cameo).

I’ve already spoken to Ron about this, and all he can say is “remember when you were young and a bad ass?”
I can’t. I have no recollection of doing anything remotely bad-ass like this. Well, at least at the tender age of 15 years old.

And no, I do not really want to promote having sex at such a young age, even though I may seem to.

What I’m saying or at least hoping, is that if they would just get to "it" and see that really "it’s" NOT worth all the hype, than maybe they’d move onto doing what normal people do at cafes, instead of creating such an uncomfortable situation for everyone else.

Anyways- will post more pieces in the future. Hope all is well in the world.

Kids- if you’re reading this learn from it. PDA is unnecessary and disturbing. You don’t want to be the fuckwits like the couple above do you?

(Yes, I curse a lot, but it’s only because I get passionate about things, and sometimes those are the only words that describe the thing properly!)