funny how you can just come back to a blog.
i live at the chelsea hotel now. i can say that now.
i wanted it for so long.
and for so long i would hope. and now i've lived her for a little bit of a long time and i sleep half on the floor and half on the couch.
my shoulder hurts but the rest of my body feels great from so much yoga.
and walking.
and living with kids.
the thing about living with kids is you stop caring what you look like so much. cause they don't care so much.
you just go for that story.
and go for those jokes and your thoughts and your words just mix up and you're thinking out loud and encourage everyone else to.
the thing about getting happy again is that you barely realized you were sad in the first place. because sadness was this friend
and you became attached.
co dependent.
and angry friends passed by and sexy friends passed through and goodbye blue mondays always has a show you could do.
and you're finding new music. but the music you listened to while you were hoping and praying to live where you live now while you were walking around the park in astoria. dusk with friends but you didn't know they were your friends yet. you listened to these songs you listen to now.
are you still talented?
do you even care?
do you even care if people really know you?
the friends in new york are light flashes of lightning.
i walked across the bridge the other night. the williamburg bridge. it was thunder and i saw a little lightning.
and i stopped in the middle of the bridge. my shirt was half bought by a woman in the shop.
a redhead sitting up straight seventy something years old.
"i'll tell you what. that looks so good on you, i'll pay half." and she gave me that five dollar bill right then and there. and put that shirt over my dress and i wore that shirt with style and no umbrella and my socks pulled up with my clogs.
and who knows what the voguees would think.
who knows what the voguees think ever.
i worry a little about the way i looked in that dress that night. the white one. makes me look a little many these days with my muscles. who knows. or maybe it's just me that makes me look a little manly.
and you see what these thoughts do?
they go no where.
back to the bridge.
always go go back to the bridge.
i stopped in the middle. looked out on the water.
thought about how i know david byrne and he smiled at me and tried to find his daughter for me to hang out with at that party. and i thought how we are the strange ones. the non creatives.
the ones who worry.
and stop creating. at a certain point. stop singing.
i sang a bit on the bridge.
we are young.
and stupid songs like that.
i thought "i can't believe i live in this city." i thought "am i becoming enlightened" i thought. i don't care about sex anymore.
i thought here i am and i feel my legs and my stomach and i haven't had so many regrets so maybe i wont ever have many regrets and i thought
nothing.
meditation.
elevation.
teh man who lives on the street who used to live in the chelsea hotel
who sells records.
we used to talk.
and then he told me that he has soft bones
and that he is healing.
and he noticed when i walked with my mom. how upset i looked.
how intense she is.
how she needs me to win.
or at least feel like i'm winning.
i don't know about that.
i raced against the tall guy who was a twin in my high school class. smart. i made a noise running.
a funny "aaaah"
that sound that made guys laugh.
the ones who ignore me now.
funny when guys just move on. they try on your skirt one night. and then you text them another night and there's no answer.
when i get no answer's to texts it makes me feel like i've turned into a character.
because you can do that, you know.
just never really let people know. or let people know so much that you just become this story.
or you become dust.
and you just have to wait for the wind.
he just came by. the homeless guy. tried on my headphones.
made me feel like i should turn on janis joplin.
cry baby.
met a new friend, freya. she's a red head rocker girl and she plays electric guitar and is from australia and a lesbo and has a great life and a great accent and loves.
and is fast talking nineteen.
like me.
you're every age i think. if you want to be.
if you keep it.
if you're one of those muscle memory people.
all you ever gotta do is be a good man one time to one woman?
she died early, though.
we had to make up the rest of her. with our love.
i do feel the ghosts here.
i'm starting to actually feel them. i know when there are good times and i know when there are bad.
i gave a piece of my heart writing to a guy in el quijote. he said he was there every night at eleven thirty.
he was nice. a skinny artist.
a little boring.
i haven't been back.

ugly opinions

dan said that i should not stop writing. i tend to listen to really smart people.
i tend to think i'm pretty dumb. because i am.
i don't remember facts and i don't remember dates and i mess up people's names.
but i can run pretty far and i can dance pretty well and i can speak loudly.
and i can know mostly how people are feeling.
i can feel a lot.
i can feel a lot.
"don't be an actress and just feel this feel that oh i'm going to feel so much, just get on with it. leave things alone. move on."
"i feel like you think i think everything is about me."
and she straggled her head. in a snake like way a little as we talked fought. i fought with ss.
she won. i knew she would. i will always listen to her because she has an amazing carreer and an ego that takes form in many incredible garments.
and me. alone.
babysitting.
coaching gymnastics.
yoga.
a stretching class.
a drama class.
michael howards class.
the open mike nights.
the walking across williambsurg bridge yesterday. and dancing in the middle. like i danced in class.
but not quite.
i can't control the letting go moments as much as i'd like.
i feel myself becoming an adult.
that's ss's thing. an adult. kids. very big separation.
she made me nervous for a second. thinking that i was too weak to be taking care of her kids.
it scared me.
but then made me stronger.
you have to face stuff.
you have to.
if you want to be better.
if i want to be a good babysitter. i can't take everything that kids say so seriously.
they make observations.
and then we get better or ignore.
or
whatever's clever.
dancing on the street last night with d silver. we were nuts. but we found the next thing. he has fans, you see. people like him a lot, you see.
because he delivers his truest self on stage. even though it's strange to some. it blows other people's minds.
and we must must must focus only on the people who's minds we are blowing.
this girl jess used to tell my ex boyfriend who then became her boyfriend how ugly i was.
i thought that was so interesting. that someone can just think you're so ugly.
everyone has taught them along their lives that someone who looked like me is ugly.
those voice lessons i'd go to.
the guy gay. me with my muscles. walking in. crying a bit at some time.
my new scene partner told me i have an interesting hand. and asked if i have ever had my palm read.
i think i am crazy.
i think i don't subscribe to this stupid world.
i think i subscribe to something much much better.
the woman last night, playing the banjo. she said she would never die. she played the banjo with all of her friends around. she was ugly. her teeth were like an animal's. something that gnaws on trees.
and with her banjo. she was exactly where she was supposed to be. playing exactly what she was supposed to play.
we were all listening.
i told her i wanted to dance and she said that you don't dance to the banjo.
she didn't hurt my feelings. she just said that.

hi.
it's cool here. its cool today. it was hot yesterday. the girls i babysit understand things that i didn't know kids understood. being in the moment. it comes so easily to them. maddie and i read the stinky cheese man and i mad her crack up so hard with the voices i did. i had done those voices before. when i was seven. why am i this timeless machine?
why does life scatter by with these moments of goodness and so many moments of dullness and lonliness. this zen way of living. this apartment i'm in. the eye contact. so open. and worldly and coming from bad but now is good. its good. its good. all is good. i went to get a mango this morning. i decided on the way there that i am going to give in a bit to my body. that it seems to know things now a days. i am afraid of teaching yoga. i know i can be good. i know i am good. i want to have fun with it. i want to know. that i'm a good teacher. it's hard. difficult. to know.
my scene partner. dennis.  he's older. we felt the present moment too! and all was well. and he gave me this scene. this character that i could "walk into" and i did. it was so great. to read. in a way that felt so natural. it worked. like my new apartment. of course the girl in the spare room decided that june would be her last month. so i can move out of the "attic" and into her room. of course.
and of course. when i wished for less babysitting. the other babysitter needed more.
and of course when it was too hot to teach yoga they cancelled on me.
and
and and
i am a child.
i went to sleep in the studio last night. its a big studio with high ceilings.
to dennis. i told him that i sometimes relate with the arthur miller women only in the way that they seeem uneducated but have a high emotional iq.
i got that from "dutch" the way that i'm smart.
i said "unicorn" to him the other day. in a text.
and.
my scene partner. this part. the master builder. i want to do it. i've been reading more.
a girl in the theatre class. she started crying saying she thought there was something wrong with her brain when she couldn't slow down and take pauses and do what she had intended to do in the scene.
and i thought about that in terms of my focus and my reading skills.
but i think. if i can do all this yoga. i can read. am i even doing a lot of yoga? i don't even know anymore. i haven't been putting myself into categories as much as i had before.
i'm on a computer in the laundry mat.
the type writer is working well. the type writer and these stones that he has in his "attic" which i'm staying in. and drums. and all of clothes. all of my clothes all of my clothes.
i pray for things and they're coming. i realize how to pray now. it has to come from this very very very nothing place.
a place of purity. and goodness. and goodness. that is a little beyond the word.
and it must be very very generous. the prayer. it needs to benifit a couple parties, it seems. world. world. world. there is a world.
walking out of babysitting yesterday, the dad. he speaks with an english accent and meditates too. and we had  a strange moment walking out. it was strange. because he's in a rough place. and i'm in a boring poor lonely place. and we are both meditators. we both know. that this will pass. it was strange i think. i don't know. it was a trust in the universe but a slight anger at. having to deal with the universe. or deal with this in and out and time and space and jobs. i wonder what i want my life to be like. and then i realize. well. its happening. now. again. with the now theme. it will end soon. appreciate it.