As she has always had you in her prayers. Even though her superstitions perturb you, there are moments throughout your day where everything inside you rattles. It jolts and shivers. Could this be her prayer shooting life into me, waking me up out of death into a living dream? She loves to hear your voice. Although sometimes the burden of listening weighs heavy on you it is nice to hear her talk incessantly about a puppy she met on the street or how annoyed she is with her mother who calls her everyday. This makes you smile. To see yourself in the past as a grown woman and imagine that future of an old soul you are becoming. When old souls return to a present they are playful, vulgar, disrespectful, misunderstood and possibly a little dusty.
A rat turned bat a combination of terrestrial and celestial. Ocean Skies. Cloud Islands.
I did not sleep last night. but I did enjoy a nice cuban cigar and a shot of caribean intoxication. The aperitif incuded two beautiful dancers, a fox and a hound ramblin away the night and stealing my heart on the dancefloor.
A kiss to you two beautiful beasts. Then there are darker more sinister eyes that caught me for a moment and strongly held their grip until they themselves were blinded by my light. The darkness walked away compassionately as it always does, leaving me to myself and to my dancing. I waited to hear from two different Caribbean princes...of Miami and Cuba combined. Oh the force of the ocean to mold the shapes of man's hearts. These men who drive me to unbridled madness for single nights, who enthrall me with their grip, take care of me and hold me until the dawn.
But these are only Princes.....not fit for a queen.
One day I will find the King of Swords who will slice my heart into tiny pieces and dust it over the oceans. He will die for me and lift me across the sky. His arms will be made of copper and his feet of burnt terracotta. Clothed in wolf hide, smelling of sweet cut grass.
I'm bleeding all over today, I'm tired all over again today, and tonight I will celebrate a birth. To hell with sleep. I'd rather kiss the blissful moon longing for rest rather than sleep away my youth.
Good night sunshine the summer moon howls over you!
A devoted spirit once kissed me and I ran away, I left him on an island in tears. I was searching for another kiss. This one this time from the betrayer who is still burning buried in his shadowed existence. I hope he moves to Antwerp very soon and marries someone who will take his shit for treasures. Because for all my showers of gold on his darkend skull, he still betrayed me with his oozing salival bath. This will always bring me sadness. And right now it is an echo of sadness, but sadness still.
I don't look to intimidate you with a kiss. In fact if you end up in my bed, there is no way I will let you touch my lips until you admit that you are trapped. Vulnerable in my web. Soft and gentle. Go to sleep. Then I will kiss you on your forehead little bear. I am now your mother, too much like her and not enough unlike. Shit, it happens again and again and again.
My mother was beautiful and cunning and trapped my father. But she forgot her beauty through the years, never taught me her mysteries and instead replaced it with a scornful temeprament that aged her twofold. He was a cheater a liar, simply the best human he could possibly be. A stalker, a charlatan, a charitable soul to everyone except his own.
A kiss from him felt like the earth, dirty and destroyed. A kiss from her - I'm not sure I remember. These days she kisses like a child. my brother is cold my sister is tired. In fact a familial kiss is the only ritual we are all embarrased to admit.
Tonight I will attempt a kiss with a poem, the poet's soul. Imagine longing and push out from my lips a subtle devotion to the spirit that inhabits the creation.
Come to HiChristinatonight @10pm 5-min lectures plus me doing a Kissing meditation.
Today I decided that I must save money in order to supplement the resources to make things happen for myself. I never have a plan and this in itself has been the bane of my existence.
Is this adulthood?
A heightened awareness of the power of money, organization and a planner?
My mother has never been the best planner but she did teach me to save any little bit of cash for a rainy day scenario. These days I wish to travel back home as a first priority and visit my new baby niece, my brother who seems to have returned from the catatonic lands of the east that tend to consume those who play with fire at an early age. My grandparents who sit patiently awaiting my arrival, like royalty waiting for their prodigal princess to return.
The joy, the joy of knowing that there is a group whom you belong to exclusively and forever more. A lineage a heritage a link that is unbreakable. Unbearable is the love for family. Difficult and strange, overbearing and smothering. The fish swims away from this affection, only to swim tirelessly with teary eyes wide and open consuming in an almost frozen gaze. Where is the love that wants to stay? (as my friend Laura Minor sweetly sings) We are beasts ravaging each other, following, hunting, longing, then mourning the loss of our conduits for exstatic pleasure and catalysts for extreme pain.
I take things too hard, he said. Yea, its my style, I whispered. I stare icy in trance, making sure not to waver and look his way. I'm on a tightrope leaning dangerously on false notions of love from the past while finally realizing today that he is simply a hollow. A bloodless vessel with no roots. There never was anymore he could give and in that moment of truthful surrender, I finally felt the faintest pulse of waves. Waves of affection pouring from his hands like honey on my skin engulfing my spirit. Soft and gentle, fragile heartbeats. But it was too late. I was a statue, adored and hated in that moment of affection. I quickly recovered my senses and got up from his couch, walked away from him and did not look back. My eyes did not focus on any one thing except the door. He rushed after me and stopped me, turned me around and asked for a hug and a kiss. Don't take things so hard, he repeated once again.
I've been reading alot aout Ms. Elizabeth Taylor this week. The violet eyed goddess from a golden era of films, the queen of the nile herself whose one true love was the scorpio that posoined her soul. In the meantime right before bed I have one delicious ritual of sipping on a tiny tea sized shot of Sherry from Jerez, Spain. The stuff is almondy rich and covers the entire palette with warmth all while reading the The Uses of Enchantment. The nest is growing in magic and I am loving every moment of creation and passion that unfolds within my walls. My habitat is at once nurturing for my body as well as my creative spirit. Let the gods be aware there is one more butterfly fluttering up to their realm. For under the sparkle of the daylight and during the most tumultuous time of my workday I replenish my strength with this nifty drink: Neuro Sonic
I mean I have to say it I have really exquisite taste. Try me sometime.
Tomorrow night at InRivers gallery I will be performing some new songs at this very special benefit for Japan. Come enjoy the art and witness some lilting music. I go on towards the end of the evening (8:45/9 pm). See you in Greenpoint, fairies!