respite

I haven't been good about posting pictures because I'm a PC person who owns a Mac, but these are from Dike 14 on Saturday, which is an awesome place.







I've been a mess these past few weeks, with everything going on, and the change of seasons, and the feeling of stasis. I went for a good two weeks of eating dinner alone unable to string two words together in conversation, but yesterday was beautiful even if it began feeling utterly overwhelmed and broken. Intangible divinity once again transcended at the moment of my leastness and deepest doubts in ways that are nearly impossible to explain, and it ended up being the first really good day I've had in months.

I meet up with Tangerine for the first time since this summer, and epic plans were altered to instead hang out at the cemetery because it was a beautiful day and it was close by. Lake View is massive and we went down the "nature walk" path and ended up somewhere completely different and somewhat deserted, with my nice camera getting lots of use.



I love this angel so much.



Shadows of leaves on the bronze doors of the tombs.



daddy long legs spiders guarding mildewing silk flowers. This crypt had this weird echo effect which meant we were saying all sorts of absurd things to hear the reverberation.



This one I'd never seen before and was in the middle of the woods.



Japanese maples turning colors, the way these branches bend is beautiful to me.



This was creepy enough from this angle, and then we realized from walking around to the other side that the little boys were naked, which is even creepier. I don't understand. By this time, we'd wandered around a lot and got hungry so we got pizza and gelato and sat at the little cafe tables on Murray Hill conversating until it started to rain and we both needed to get home anyway.

I got home later than I thought I would, and while buying earplugs at the drugstore for the show tonight, got a call from Muk, who was down at Edgewater and wanted to hang out. I didn't want to bother with opening acts for the show, so I joined him on the pier as we watched the waves break on the rocks and talked about everything until the park ranger started coming around and I had live music to go see.



Got to Peabody's about five minutes before Katatonia got onstage, got my much needed catharsis of moody rock and Swedish accents, the only sour note being the drunk blonde metalhead Snooki type who tried to start a pit and kept slamming into me ostensibly because I was about the same size and didn't have anyone with me. I'm too old for the mosh thing and didn't want to get into a chickfight when there's good music to get introspective to so I got out of her way after she grabbed my shirt by the bra straps and started pulling me, and found more chill people on the side (kids with their confused parents) to stand by.

Still, it was a good show, they played a long set and I was able to lose myself in sweet sounds and indulge my inner techie geek by checking out the chords, deciphering tunings and time signatures because I spent my teens reading guitar magazines instead of Seventeen. Most of the crowd except for the girls were chill. Seriously, ladies, you're doing us females who dig the heavy sounds a disfavor.

No pictures, as I had the little point and shoot and forgot to replace the memory card. Thankfully Randal's more organized than me and has the visuals.

healing waters

Some tension on the flesh-and-blood end had me wanting to bail before dinner, but a cooling-off walk around the block with the closer of my two siblings helped my troubled soul to chill out, and I made a much more graceful exit post-dessert, driving home through bleak streets and grey clouds, attempting to make sense of a sea of emotions and being unable to, venting to God because I don't want to bother anyone on a holiday weekend and He seems to be okay with my salty mouth and aching soul laid bare.

But with a full gas tank and looking so melancholy that even the attendants were trying to cheer me up, I began to drive towards the little bit of golden I could see in the sky, detouring from the route home to the lake when the clouds suddenly became so panoramic and vast and a deep blue-grey swirling over the hemisphere, and a band of golden on the horizon over the white-cap-flecked water, I could see the surf from the exit and knew I could find solace here.



Two of my former softball teammates were hanging out on the pier, people I didn't know very well but we were euphoric under the kaleidoscopic clouds deepening to dusky rose and blazing gold and rich blues over the swirling water crashing into the rocks and over the walkway like the ocean, the wind blowing my hair out as I huddled in a hoodie on the platform, wishing I had my camera, but knowing I'd miss this moment if I ran back to get it. The 1-pixel snapper on the phone and my memory would have to do.

We walked down to the beach, where the surfers were out and the sun set over pools in the sand, as seagulls flew silhouetted into the horizon and the water glided within inches of our feet as the darkness deepened. We walked back and I watched the water swirl some more before heading home, wondering why the turbulence calms me so intensely.

magic lantern show

Since I'm not the most social of creatures, and don't want to bore my real-life friends, here's what we do instead of slideshows nowadays.

Half my photos are on the Battery-Eating-Baby-Camera, but thanks to the recommendations of one of my friends who drives semis along the eastern seaboard, I exited the gridlock of I-90 for an epic jaunt through Erie, PA, past such fine establishments as the Hard Rock Motel (no pictures, sadly, as I was trying to not crash into other people's cars) and a detour to a record store stuck in an alternate 1988 where punk and thrash never happened, and there were rows and rows of still-cellophaned cassettes of Motley Crue, 12-inches of forgotten and the "alternative" section was mostly 80's new wave that even I hadn't heard of.

There were also a surprising amount of fundie churches through here, or at least the ones that said "Fundamental" and advertised it. Have I finally stumbled across the Real America? I'm not sure, because when I think of Erie, I think of the hardcore youth crew kids that used to come and fight with the Cleveland kids in the mosh pits I used to frequent. The rust belt ennui is in full evidence in a way strangely familiar and comforting, that the pain of hard economic times seems to be geographically universal.

I crossed the border into Chautaqua County, New York, which is full of vineyards and blue mountains in the distance. It was cool and breezy and I had good music in the car. Despite seeing signs for I-90 beckoning me so gorgeous that I stayed on there because it was so peaceful and love with the breeze, the greenery, the signage of gun shops and the paint jobs of stately Victorians, and the stack of good tuneage... the Clash and Stiffed, Kristin Hersh and Jerry Cantrell.

My mom had friends from college who never take an interstate anywhere and I see why they don't... when you're not in a mad hurry and give yourself time to soak in the scenery, when it exists, it changes the whole mentality of traveling. My legs got cramped from being in the same position for hours, so I'd stop in small towns to stretch my legs in forgotten cemeteries, call my lovely hosts to tell them I was running late.

Dinner was improvised and delicious, especially with the addition of Birthday Bash ice cream, which sounds like the worst idea ever but was actually kind of awesome in a Zero Zest kind of way.



Walked on the river breakwall walkway as the sun set, underneath the Peace Bridge ringed with barbed wire, ignoring the green piles of goose doo because it's not every day I get up close and personal with great blue herons.







Night drive and wanderings...



Late night conversations, oversleeping the next morning, diner food, a morning walk through the neighborhoods, being turned loose to wander through the city while my hosts were at work.



Maybe it was the weather, the sun, the new frontier of places never seen, but everything felt so bright and vibrant, there was just so much color, with the flowers, and the houses painted so brightly, murals on seemingly every other building, the people out walking resplendent.



City Hall is pretty damn amazing, with its stained-glass windows, epic murals and general art-deco swankiness.







I walked up the street, got completely lost, but somehow found my way into an old cathedral on the way to the cemetery. My inner goth kid was totally in heaven there, even if the humidity made me sleepy as anything. But not enough to fall asleep on this:











Leftist coffee is pricy.


Murals are lovely








So are old churches like St. Ann's and the people that love these places. To think about the love and care that went into this, carving every intricate piece by hand, building it brick by brick, it just astounds me.







Rooftop gardens on top of the Broadway Market... Polish flags, Stone Temple Pilots reference, made me feel right at home.



And, of course, my wonderful tour guides



The art show in the terminal was wonderful and I came out all inspired to try new colors and techniques with my work, and I love spaces like that, places that are art in themselves.





drive by photo-ing





Niagara Falls





There were other things... seeing Sharon Jones live again, sounding even better than the last time, worshiping with fellow brothers and sisters, and loving being able to sing in Kiswahili again, even if I've lost a lot of what I once knew, driving home into the sun, thankful for a change of scene, the chance to be around wonderful souls, and have my world opened up even a little bit more...

I can't relax 'cause I can't do a thing and I can't do a thing because I can't relax...

The ennui that hits each summer, of sapped spirit and tired eyes simultaneously lonesome-feeling and antisocial. I should be looking forward to days off more than I am but I have a wedding to go to and even when it's for people I love, these kinds of social functions make me nervy, even though I do fine, but by going alone I can come and go depending on how it goes. I enjoy people, but I'm more of an introvert... small gatherings of trusted near and dears always preferable to large groups of acquaintances or strangers.

A detour to the lake instead of going home, running into friends with their grandkids and walking on the rocks, taking pictures of the sunset. Tendrils of grapevines growing over rocks and I pull some touch me not leaves off to show the kids how it turns silvery under the water. We part ways and I drive down the street to do some writing, take in the twilight. A small soul led beside still silver waters and restored.