Deeper Down

Underneath the ocean floor
A part of who we are we don't explore
I adore
The meaninglessness of the this
We can't express

I am letting it get to me.

Yes, I am.

WE WERE DRIVING INTO THE SUN, two days into a weekend away from work, and putting time into something more rewarding. I'd never noticed the lush blades that covered a generous span of the prairie ground and lush indeed, collectively the most beautiful grass of the summer. The wind settled and all that subsided were tan lines, a few careless hairs on my legs, a half tank of gas. Willow quivered in the backseat drooling, the expiration date on the buns said later this week. I don't know when I'll be back.

Then I got the message from you, and it said I could come visit any time soon. That's just fine, I'd shake a leg in two minutes to be that far away and see a familiar face. I've no money, but plenty in fact; can't spend, won't borrow, stubborn as shit. You know how it goes.

I'm trying to make the most of it. The appreciation comes slow, like sundown, after the evening's casting of recollection, and I try not to take myself too seriously. These days are so careless, so numbing and magnificent, that I cannot imagine a year without this kind of light. We all thrive on this — my mother in her garden, father fixing the concrete blocks, and sister with another love. And I — I drive with the roof open, throw the seat back and squint into that beautiful sun and feel that warmth, the best warmth, the best remedy. It's getting better all the time, you know.

A rock pile in a farmer's field reminds me of a day on the road with my grandfather, and searching for arrowheads amidst every mound under the midsummer sun. That day was just like today, save different motions and faces, but today was not taken for granted; I know better.

But where, in a summer, has time slipped?

For lack of greater, more original material:

And even more shocking, my mother is more torn up than me…

The Jackson Five must have played quite the defining role in her upbringing.

I miss this so much.

Still fighting it...

I ONCE TOLD MY SISTER A STORY, about a spider that lives in my room.

"I have a spider that lives in my room," I said, "and I never kill it. I see it all the time, and just let it live in my room. It doesn't bother me, and I don't bother it."

She quickly retorted, "Jenny, you're stupid! Why…why would you do that? You know it's probably not the same spider you've been seeing, but one of many. If you keep letting it get away it's just going to have more spiders…"

I've come to realize how I live my life, letting things build up whilst being oblivious. Tonight I saw one small spider scamper across my closet floor—much smaller than the one I'd always let get away—and it served as a sign. Certain things in my life have gotten out of control, not just the arachnids lodging under my dresser drawers; things greater. I just choose to ignore them in hopes that they're not as numbered, as petrifying, or not crawling into my mouth at night.

And so, it is time to kill my spider.

Happy Father's Day, Dad, with love from Cruella de la "Jenny Marie!"

xo

If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set,
then there'd be peace.
( j. lennon )

I've contradicted myself long enough. It's tough, better yet tougher, but it's the best thing. And who knows, somewhere down the line it's going to be the way it should, or just the way it can be. There's a plan, somewhere in that bag, just for a lady that's determined to exist as such.

But how many days have passed? And these threads, so tightly woven to my innermost workings, mind and movements, why? Why pass by and over thoughts so unavailing? And repeatedly throw myself against the wall, on the tracks, to the wolves? Who am I and what have I been doing this whole time?

So I will declare happiness on our lives. I want it and moreover, I've realized, finally — I mean it. Be free.

Thy nerd-dom come!

I got new specs today — definitely stepped outside my comfort zone with these and whew! Am I glad. I love them…and have a pretty good feeling they'll look extra snazzy with a summer dress and a fedora.

"I don't care what they say about them anyway…I…don't…care 'bout that."

Happy Birthday, Grandma! You've still got it!

"Anything I can ever do for you—you've got yourself a friend for life."

Future:

What a scary, exciting and curious thought.

How Now

How'm I gonna do it? Watch eight hours of television on my front lawn? Drink lemonade? Dance on Main Street in that swimsuit, the one I took from my sister three summers ago? Walk through every aisle at WalMart? Read books backwards, burn the evidence of yesteryear, dive into scores of packing peanuts? Sleep sideways, or upside down, or downside up? Water artificial flowers? Set the limbo bar a little lower, then crawl under a little swifter? Eat cake for every meal? Hitchhike across the universe? Write sonatas, draw photographs, make mom proud? Sleep?

Or…set it aside and walk away?

It's wavering but for now, at best, it's little to none.

Wherever you go, go with all your heart;

If that's the case, I need to change my plans.

I took the hit, the bulk of the blame,
and years later
I can still feel the sting
Often speculating what,
how things could be.

I hate that so much, and more
that you'll not know, not ever.

Streets

Streets from approximatelyes on Vimeo.

Scenes from my final week in Europe: Austria, Germany, and Holland.

*Apologies for the extreme mediocre quality of this short film.

It's Never Been Like That

It wasn't sunny, I remember that much. The day had gone from long to longer, my fears had been established, wiped away, disposed into some irrelevant space of mind. If I could dismiss that initial fear, I found, before getting it grow, then thereafter I could be fearless.

The shopping ways were long before the Arch de Triumph, with windows taunting Ferraris, pastries, long-legged mannequins. I'd never have any of it, I felt so lost. A metro sign appeared, I skimmed the stairs and jumped aboard. The subway was different when I was alone. There was no way to determine if it was safe, and I tried to lose myself in thought and focus on my stop rather than think of those staring at me with shifty French eyes. I had to be fearless.

Clouds were overhead and soaked in an air much similar to a day I'd spent discovering London. I imagined the day with sun. A garden came into sight, a really beautiful arrangement of trees and benches. I was lost, I knew where I was, I was lonely, I was content. The Louvre was set straight ahead, couples were sprinkled amidst the trees, fountains and grasses. I saw a lone chair sitting in the middle of a dusty patch and advanced.

And as much as I'd like to deny, or maintain that I was completely satisfied, I would have given a great bit to have seen someone at my side, smiling, curious, dust on their feet.

Me and you are subject to the blues now and then
But when you take the blues and make a song
You sing them out again

The best guitarist in the world.

Heart Attack

Sitting on my break at work today I heard a woman's voice cry over the intercom,"Code Blue! Code Blue to ICU, Code Blue to ICU!"

I turned to the woman that I was sitting with who gauged my confusion. "Someone's having a heart attack, that's what that means," she said.


And all I can do is worry, about everything.

Turn, Turn, Turning

I heard this song at the Blue Rider tonight. I can recall it being played during my youth, on the stereo in our living room on Shirley Court and it brings nothing but happy memories.

There couldn't be a more suiting time in my life to hear this music. Right now I feel I am being tugged by the future in so many uncertain directions, it's hard to assure and reassure myself that everything happens for a reason, and that the choices I make will eventually, at long last someday, lead to something plentiful and fulfilling. It's difficult to picture an affirmative life unfolding when you feel so lost.

I am only trying to accept that this is my time to be uncertain, a time to be uncertain, a time of love, a time of peace, a time of hate, a time for every purpose under heaven. I can do anything.

Thank you, Byrds.

PS: If nothing else, the woman dancing in the background of this video is hilarious.



To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time to build up,a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time for peace, I swear its not too late

If you have not the time to watch the video, at least—please—read the lyrics.

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.