Posts Tagged ‘Dubtribe’

It’s Just Wind In My Eye

April 24, 2015

I swear.

Those aren’t tears.

It was a close call, however, to know if the prickles of tears streaming down my face was actually caused by the wind, it was a brisk ride home, or by the fullness and sense of joy I had at riding home through the park at twilight.

The striations of color were like Easter eggs gone mad and I found myself almost stopping more than once to capture the sunset on my phone camera a few times as I rolled briskly along.

I did not, however, dinner was calling.

Loudly.

Normally I eat at work, but there were adventures and play dates and bicycle rides and stuff and things and I actually left the family, mom, dad, and both the boys at the slides in Dolores Park to scoot to my next commitment at 6:30p.m.

Dinner was not an option for me at the work site tonight.

I was alright with that, I pushed my lunch as late as I could and had a late coffee, which really isn’t always the best thing for me, but then again, I did have a play date rumpus with three little monkeys, so it felt like I was actually in need of the caffeine not for appetite suppressing, but to just get through the play date.

I made it though, and tomorrow, oh lovely of lovelies, is Friday.

I’m ready.

It has been a full week.

Then again, when aren’t they full?

I’m also excited to squeak in a tea with a good friend that despite being in the neighborhood of where I work, I don’t get to see all that much.

I’ve got a date with her tomorrow after work to catch up and have a spot of tea and I’m super excited.

There’s news.

There’s always news.

But sometimes you just got to tell a girl friend the stuff and I’m excited to get to do so without the boys I take care of in tow.

I love them I do.

“We are never letting her go!” The mom said today from the sandbox to her friend who is looking for help having just had a second baby a month ago.

I smiled.

That’s always something so nice to hear.

Job security.

I like having it.

I like that I have a place to park my bicycle indoor and hang it up on a rack.

I like that I got to work fifteen minutes early today too and did my stretching before starting the day.

I am sore.

I mean.

SORE.

The stretching I do before work is about a third of the exercises and stretches that the physical therapist wants me to be doing, but I’m not getting down on the ground in front of the house to do the clam shell stretch.

It’s a semi private street in the Mission that the house is located on, but it is still the Mission.

God only knows what is on the sidewalks.

Gentrification still smells like homeless guy pee.

It just looks a little tidier in the neighborhood.

Sidebar.

The Elbow Room lost its lease.

It’s closing in November, hopefully the establishment will find another place, but I shall be sad to see it leave.

I don’t drink there any longer–although I certainly did for a period of time and there are more than one set of smashed photos from the instant photo booth in the bar, but it was one of the first establishments that I hung out in, even before I moved to San Francisco.

I will never forget how hard I danced the first visit I made there and also how I found the neighborhood a little on the sketchy side and I was very happy to be with a tall guy friend on the way to the bar for the show.

It was upstairs and it was Vivendo de Pao–this amazing Afro-Brasillian fusion band.

I danced so hard.

That show alone could be why my knees hurt, and that was over twelve years ago.

They were amazing and I thought I was in love and who cares if he has a girl friend.

He’s the one.

He’s  so not the one.

He’s married somewhere in the South Bay with a couple of kids.

I haven’t seen him in over 10 years.

I fell in love with the venue though.

And have even gotten, in sobriety, to perform there with Sunshine Jones from Dubtribe, who did a song with me from a poem I wrote when I was in my first year of living in San Francisco, called While You Were Sleeping.

I performed that and another and it was a kind of full circle.

That was the last time I was at the Elbow Room.

It’s a great place to dance, though, and I will make a point of getting to the venue at least a few times before it leaves to be replaced by another condo.

Yeah.

That’s basically what is going in its place.

The owners of the building are not going to renew the lease for The Elbow Room and they just announced to the bar owners today that they would not be signing anew.

Ah, good old gentrification, you just keep happening.

“Don’t tell anyone you like living in the Mission,” my friend told me when I had settled into my first sublet on York and 20th.

“It’s already getting a little too gentrified.”

And that was in 2002.

It’s not over yet.

End aside.

I don’t know that I should end that aside, it got pretty long, and in its own way winds into my blog about San Francisco and beauty and how I am grateful, so very grateful, deeply, truly, madly, wildly grateful, to get to live here still.

I don’t intend on moving anywhere else.

I want all the things and I want them here, in SF.

It’s my home and it can slay me with its beauty without warning.

I wound through the park as the light shifted and the colors in the sunset became more glorious and deep, smote my heart, the velvet and dusk and soft light, filtered through the pines and the tops of the trees, the silhouette of a tall Eucalyptus winnowed with orange and umber and red and then violet and indigo, the crescent moon drifting over it all.

My heart swelled and the scene at Spreckels Lake was astounding, the mirror of the sunset on the flat surface was too glorious for words.

I smiled.

I rode around the corner and past the buffalo in the paddock and the green of the hills and the soft scent of the sea the wood fire burning in a fireplace, I swear, it was just the wind in my eyes.

I do cry for joy sometimes.

I might have tonight.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

In my life.

In my body.

In my home.

In my San Francisco.

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Hurry Up, Quick Now

December 22, 2013

Get this post posted.

Get writing, go, go, go.

The internet where I am house sitting seems quite unreliable.

It has just taken nearly twenty minutes to get online.

It could possibly be my computer, as the sounds of it dying are happening.

Yeah, I have Barnaby’s money, but man, oh man, did I just have a thought or three about spending it on a new laptop.

“I’m not dead yet!”

I hear you, little computer that could.

I don’t want you to go down yet girl, I need at least to get this blog done, pay back my friend and start a new savings goal on my online saving account.

New laptop.

Really, how did I ever live without one?

So, this post may be a little rambling and odd ball as who knows how long I will be able to keep the connection.  I am hoping long enough to spit out the 1,000 plus words that I need to do to feel like I have been presentable in bloglandia, then, oh fingers crossed, yes, then, hoping to have downloaded Elf for some holiday viewing enjoyment.

Yes.

I said Elf.

Hush yo mouth.

I also have queued up Bad Santa, which I have never seen, Scrooged, and The Bishops Wife.  I may, depending, also download Holiday Inn, my top favorite, I mean the costumes are awesome, the dancing fantastic, always reminds me of sitting wrapped up in the afghan my grandmother crochet for me (in the best colors–pink, white, rich burgundy red–a gift for the girl who lived in “Siberia” the coldest room in the house) on the couch in the house in Windsor watching Holiday Inn on PBS, and of course, Bing Crosby singing White Christmas.

I have also never, yeah, I know, how is it possible, seen It’s a Wonderful Life.

I mean I have seen outtakes of it, I have the gist of the storyline, but I have not seen it.

I must rebel somehow.

People look at me so askance when I say that.

I haven’t seen Survivor either folks, but that’s not Christmas themed.

Nor have I been to New York.

“You have never been to New York!” He reared back in his seat, “really, you strike me as so East Coast, but you’ve lived in Paris?”

Yes.

There’s that and the tickets somewhere being super cheap that have made me wonder, maybe it’s time to hunt up the odd friend or three who have offered me room and asylum should I decide to visit.

I would like to have it off my list of places I need to go see.

This next year could happen.

But first, the computer, the laptop, well, she is having a hard time, then again, she was having a hard time last year in Paris, but it seems worse, and the sound of the fan in my computer no longer sounds like a helicopter crashing and burning, but it sounds really faint and tired and wheezy.

Like its got pneumonia or bronchitis.

I should bring it in to the Genius bar and see what they can do.

Of course that makes me nervous as I assume, me the non-technical person, that they are going to take it and ship it off somewhere and fix it and I will be without a computer for two weeks, which happened once before, but I was not posting a daily blog at that point.

I was blogging, just not daily.

I could blog from my phone.

Man would that suck.

I suppose I am getting ahead of myself.

The internet still has me in its little paws and my computer is gamely chugging along trying its best to host me just another few minutes until I get this up and running.

I want to do some research as I had a little insight and want to do it before I head off to bed or to watch a snippet or two of a Christmas movie.

I was thinking about finding out about voice work.

I got  a really sweet message from a woman today, who I could not recall why I knew her or why we were friends on Facebook.

Sometimes you know, oh, look, we have these certain friends in common.

I met you at Burning Man.

But I couldn’t place her and then she sent a message saying she had met me about this time last year, probably a little earlier since I was in Paris this time last year, and that she was really impressed by my voice and my energy.

She had seen me perform with Sunshine Jones of Dubtribe.

And the message seemed to reinforce some little voice inside that has been peeping up at me about something I have always wanted to do–vocal work.

Now, truth be told I don’t know how it works and I am not sure how I would go about finding out, but I want to explore it.

I love the idea of reading out loud for a living.

Now maybe that’s facetious and I just like to hear myself talk, but really, I like telling stories and I believe I have a good voice, and I have good pronunciation, so that’s like a bonus, you wouldn’t really make it very far in vocal work if you didn’t.

I really enjoyed the time I worked as an intern at KQED, maybe I could do that at another radio station or maybe I can see if there are classes at City College or I don’t know.

But as I was reading out loud earlier, I do that a couple of times a week, it struck me again how nice it felt to do so, just reading out loud, sounding out the words, I used to read poetry to myself out loud in bed when I was wide awake a night and having some existential crisis about who I wasn’t dating when I lived in Madison.

I was not sober.

But I was dramatic.

I think I still have a bit of that flair, and what with the right guidance, maybe this could turn into something fun to explore.

Direct my attention to what you would have me be.

This could be a big pile of ego or it could be something else.

I am going to find out.

Quickly, tonight, if the interconnectivity thingamabob stays.

I like the idea a lot.

So with that I will bid you adieu.

I have surpassed my word count and wish to retire from the blogosphere for a few hours, besides, I don’t want to push my luck with not being able to connect to the internet and get this posted.

See you tomorrow!

Night friends.

 

 


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