a full moon

can you see the moon from where you are?

she's making an appearance, just now, outside my window. bright and lovely and completely full of herself. and why shouldn't she be? the sun's been chasing her round and around all day ... just trying to light up her face.

i know how she feels.

my. i haven't written a good post in so long i may have forgotten how. i'm hoping it is a habit that once acquired is never lost. much like riding a bike ...

...so, i begin as usual with ...

hello! (said in my sleepy way, as i sit, crumple-faced, staring at the keyboard.)

the evening is half gone, and though i could have fallen asleep just past suppertime, instead, i'm here. (the slightest time change wreaks havoc on my sleep patterns ... or maybe it isn't jet lag at all. maybe i'm just exhausted by the sheer force of ... everything.)

it's difficult to be back in texas after the sunshine and possibility of california, but it's only for a short while ... most of which will be spent packing and saying 'goodbye,' so it's a nuisance easily borne. it was nice to be 'home.' if only for a little while.

hours not spent driving in circles or touring random dwellings, were filled with splashing and sand castles - so that by each afternoon's end i could be found sun drenched and damp and pleasantly tired, laughing at dogs chasing the surf, listening to the music of the waves and waving goodbye to the sun as it set off toward the beginning of someone else's day. i have a pink nose, lovely tan shoulders and a few new freckles to show for it all.

and in the midst, was i able to find a place to live? yes and no. i've settled on long beach. specifically, a little parcel called 'belmont shores'. it's bordered on one side by the beach and on the other by 2nd street and it's shops and restaurants and (imagine my surprise) gay bars. the streets are narrow and the accommodations small and interesting and full of the hardwood floors and nooks & crannies i'm so fond of.

and i knew instantly that it was not just another neighborhood - it was mine.

i consider it a grand stroke of luck that the rents are not unreasonable - about what i'd expect to pay here for similar circumstances - although, i find the deposits required to be ... well, frankly ... unkind.

and so, rather than rush into something less than ideal, i will stay with my mother for a few months - better to save and to search for just the right place. and as these things go, encinitas is not all a bad spot to view the world for a bit.

the new store is lovely. and big. (and attached to the largest mall i have ever seen.) walking in was familiar and foreign all at once. the people are nice enough, and completely undone by my impending arrival - many of them giving me that slow, silent 'once over', starting with my hair and ending with my shoes and making me glad i'd dressed wisely for the occasion and hadn't just wandered in wearing my house-hunting ensemble. i imagine they spent a good deal of time, after i left for the day, discussing - speculating - on exactly how i'll rock their worlds. i am excited to see how i translate in california. perhaps, i'm meant to be a catalyst - my enthusiasm, my energy, speeding along some chemical reaction. but then again, no. in any experiment, the catalyst is supposed to remain unchanged ... i don't see me emerging from this experience unscathed, unaffected.

still, i am who i am and i do what i do. geography won't change that. though i am interested to see how it all plays out and what the lasting effects will be. it's a challenge i am completely ready for.

be well. look out the window and marvel at the moon. and wherever you are, i hope your evening is spent in the company of friends, or words, or whatever it is that will warm you most.

older in years, but newer every day

i have a cancer in my head. my doctor says, 'no. you don't.' but he hasn't heard you and doesn't believe in the zodiac.

today is your birthday. so ... happy birthday to you. the boy who sings impossible things that i believe. what do you wish for? what can i give you that you don't already have? off-the-cuff compliments? adjectives? a conversation on paper? an impossible encounter that lives in the imagination and somehow becomes reality?

what will you give yourself?

the wisest of men know that real birthdays are not annual affairs ... they are the days when we experience a rebirth; so that while we may grow older in years, we are newer every day. this, i suspect, is not news to you.

your words tell me that you already know this life is a constant, gradual process ... a subtle play of light and texture and shadows, measured in centuries and inches. it is about kindness and passion and peace and temperance ... extremes of temperature, folding and pounding, turning ourselves inside-out, and bringing out the gold hidden within.

on this, the occasion of your birth, my wish for you is that you'll fly free and happy - beyond birthdays and across forever. that you'll have a day, no ... a life ... where happiness foams up over the top of you and down your sides, spilling over onto everyone in your vicinity. i wish you joy and light, the blueness of sky, infinity and more.

and wherever you are tonight, i hope the moon is out, your friends are near and the music is never ending ... and i hope tomorrow gently breezes into your life carrying with it all the choicest of things and all that your heart holds dear.

i am glad you were born.

once in a blue moon

tonight is the blue moon.

and, as the song says, i am 'standing alone.' (i take direction well.)

'alone' has never held the fear or discomfort for me that it does for most. maybe it's because i have more practice or because my imagination keeps me company when company is hard to find. i almost crave the sensation, sometimes, of being accountable for entertaining only myself. i am a good friend. an excellent host. and i enjoy my company immensely.

and here, on the night when we can do the things we normally only dream of doing, that which is unusual for us, uncharacteristic, rare...

i am sitting still. quietly. wishing for company.

really, i am.

knees up, in my chair, waiting for you to come through the door, smiling and telling me of your latest adventure. and if you do, i'll smile and ask you to sit and stay awhile and share yourself with me. and for once, i won't talk over you or around you or at you. we will just sit and creep toward closeness. you, holding my hand, me - holding my tongue.

come here anytime, you'll be welcomed with open arms.