Honey bee!!!
Originally I wanted these writings to be early morning meditations on the subtle fibers that link everything together- the early morning hours, the wakefulness of the elderly, dogs dragging their owners out to the streets, the defiant glow of the Yum Yum lights. But this morning, as with last morning, I found that I was more simply waking up than watching things closely. There are a few things that are becoming familiar trail markers on my morning run. Somewhere between Alameda and the next light there are sprinklers that pretend to be a rushing river.
oh man....banks.
money money money MONEY.....mon-nay!!
ok, pooper, everyone's home, so this'll have to be the post for today.
love you pooper.
you did awesome with aerobics today, you little worker bee.
-mister
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Sep. 8, 2008
Run: home to two blocks past Alameda and back, along
Thoughts:
You are next to me, right now, typing on your computer, with a small crowd of glass holding our breakfast between us. I woke this morning, after having a dream that involved you, Olivia and Shogen, and some lost house on the dry end of a sewer ravine. I woke, went to the bathroom, turned on the lights, and the sting of it, the brightness, caused me to believe it was still the middle of the night, still 3am, maybe 4.
But as I sat on the toilet, a feeling of wakefulness came over me, and I suddenly felt the stillness of the morning, and remembered a similar wakefulness from when I was young. The street lights outside still on, and the traffic passing below the window infrequent and quiet, I remember feeling like the morning hours were entirely my own. Before school started, before my parents awoke even. I claimed the morning and its stillness as though it were a foreign country, newly decorated with the flag of my intentions. Sometimes I'd wake to a ski outfit I'd lain out the night before in ebullient expectation of a ski trip; sometimes I'd watch morning cartoons and exercise; sometimes I'd make a full and tasteful breakfast; sometimes I'd just read or write or play guitar. I don't think it was ever with strong intention that I woke up so much as it was with a desire to explore those few hours that existed before the schedule of the day devoured them.
I think it was that thought that convinced me to stay up this morning. And so with that it mind, I walked out of the bathroom, put on my swim trunks, sat by your side, watched you stretch the quiet morning air above your head and on either side of your shoulders, looked closely and intently at your closed eyes, and then went out to the streets to jog. There were many thoughts, impressions, sounds, passing people, lit morning windows and....I wanted to catch them all, the most important of which was that, with my increasing age, there seems an increasing familiarity with experiences that keeps them from seeming vibrant and novel. Sort of what we spoke of about the radiohead concert- being there but also feeling a bit like you were seeing something on t.v.
I feel like the closest experiences these days exist more in ideas than in physically emperical events.
Like yesterday, when you were down before heading to work, possibly because of music, maybe just 'cause life can get you down sometimes, and I looked at you, and didn't want you to stress, simply because I love you, and I said, "I love you. Don't stress missy."
And the idea of it crossed through everything, and I saw through all the air between us, and all the skin, bone and body between us, to you, and saw it touch you, and you smiled back at me.
I loved that.
k, gotta run to work.
See you soon pooper.
love love love you.
-mister.
Thoughts:
You are next to me, right now, typing on your computer, with a small crowd of glass holding our breakfast between us. I woke this morning, after having a dream that involved you, Olivia and Shogen, and some lost house on the dry end of a sewer ravine. I woke, went to the bathroom, turned on the lights, and the sting of it, the brightness, caused me to believe it was still the middle of the night, still 3am, maybe 4.
But as I sat on the toilet, a feeling of wakefulness came over me, and I suddenly felt the stillness of the morning, and remembered a similar wakefulness from when I was young. The street lights outside still on, and the traffic passing below the window infrequent and quiet, I remember feeling like the morning hours were entirely my own. Before school started, before my parents awoke even. I claimed the morning and its stillness as though it were a foreign country, newly decorated with the flag of my intentions. Sometimes I'd wake to a ski outfit I'd lain out the night before in ebullient expectation of a ski trip; sometimes I'd watch morning cartoons and exercise; sometimes I'd make a full and tasteful breakfast; sometimes I'd just read or write or play guitar. I don't think it was ever with strong intention that I woke up so much as it was with a desire to explore those few hours that existed before the schedule of the day devoured them.
I think it was that thought that convinced me to stay up this morning. And so with that it mind, I walked out of the bathroom, put on my swim trunks, sat by your side, watched you stretch the quiet morning air above your head and on either side of your shoulders, looked closely and intently at your closed eyes, and then went out to the streets to jog. There were many thoughts, impressions, sounds, passing people, lit morning windows and....I wanted to catch them all, the most important of which was that, with my increasing age, there seems an increasing familiarity with experiences that keeps them from seeming vibrant and novel. Sort of what we spoke of about the radiohead concert- being there but also feeling a bit like you were seeing something on t.v.
I feel like the closest experiences these days exist more in ideas than in physically emperical events.
Like yesterday, when you were down before heading to work, possibly because of music, maybe just 'cause life can get you down sometimes, and I looked at you, and didn't want you to stress, simply because I love you, and I said, "I love you. Don't stress missy."
And the idea of it crossed through everything, and I saw through all the air between us, and all the skin, bone and body between us, to you, and saw it touch you, and you smiled back at me.
I loved that.
k, gotta run to work.
See you soon pooper.
love love love you.
-mister.
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