i don't mean to only write about heavy things, you know. it's just something that seems to happen.

there are lots of really lovely and happy things about my life, like waking up early and having a very meditative walk to the co-op in the light not-too-cold rain to buy myself a bagel and the hungry masses (cats) some overpriced organic food so they didn't gnaw through the garbage bag. also like having impromptu champagne festivals with friends and my mothers medieval-style pottery goblets, and like sitting in the small, overcrowded basement of Hallwalls listening to a gush or pain and hope and hopelessness about small businesses, the magic of objects that we can place in our lives and emotional cycles based on when and where we bought them, whether or not we agonized over the decision to get them, and what the clerk said when we did...I won't tarry about this at the moment, it is a source of many pages of writing in and of itself, and much creative fermentation. Just think about this: a) there is a whole series of books written about peoples favorite records, based on this concept. can you imagine our generation writing about mp3s like this? and b) France is giving independent bookstores government funding to stay alive, recognizing them as cultural institutions.

i also received a mysterious package containing House Party 1,2,3, AND 4 this week!!! As the case states, "all the parties, all in your house!" it turned out to be from christy batta, who NOT mysteriously, is a continuous harbinger of joy in my life. often joy transmitted through the mail.

but all those good things aside, i have some heavy ish on my mind, at the moment. maybe it's the rain, and maybe it's the simple well of emotion that IS autumn, and maybe it's the illnesses/sleepinesses that have recently struck me down, and maybe it's a hyperawareness for every what i'll call near-near-death moment that shakes me as i walk anywhere. a near-near-death moment is not when you almost get hit by a car, but when you are stopped by your tracks in fear at the end of a driveway where a car has just started, imagining what MIGHT have happened if you had not been paying attention, and if the driver had been in a hurry and backed swiftly and immediately to the foot of the street, not thinking to look for a driveway pedestrian, and that might have been, suddenly, IT for you. near-near-death experiences have been piling up for me, over the past week or two weeks. they are jarring and unpleasant frozen stutters in time, and they are scary in more than one way - but they also make me constantly grateful and wondrous at the simple fact of being alive and present.

or maybe it's the fact that i've been writing torrents again, nonsensical torrents that are and are not of my life, or my dreams - or that i've been having particularly vivid dreams, of late, and not knowing how to sew them into the fabric of my life.

someone once told me that a good way to clearly connect and disconnect your real life and your dream life is to look at your hands while awake and ask yourself if you are dreaming. this signal will transmit to your dreams themselves and ensure that whenever you look at your hands and ask the question, in sleep or wake, you will be conscious and in control of what comes immediately next. i have started keeping a dream log, again, and meditating a little here and there - not as much as i should. there is something about the fall that brings heightened emotion, heightened disconnect, heightened connect, heightened wreck, heightened recklessness and impulsiveness, and an increased attunement to the self, the fissures in the self, and the ways to keep the self pasted together.

in any case, i'm babbling.