On the road...

There are times that the words flow through my thoughts and I know exactly what to say, those are never the moments when I am sitting in front of a screen or behind a pen. Morning contemplations, afternoon daydreams. This is not one of those times. This is my first entry. I’m starting at the seeming beginning, a background of sorts.

 Tuesday July 2014

 I don’t know the date, I barely know the day of the week. I can’t recall exactly how long I’ve been gone from Austin. If I thought on it long enough I would have to say 2 weeks. Time moves in a different rhythm when you’re on the road, when you have no cell phone signal, when you’re present only to those experiences around you. 2 weeks ago life looked very different, I can’t say it made sense but it had pattern, recognition, familiarity.

 I was working in an upholstery shop, waiting on a warehouse space with Avi, living in Austin, TX, performing with my burlesque troupe. Friday the 13th of June was the turning point. We had a breakdown within the troupe, we were losing Elijah to NOLA, Layla’s husband beat her and threw her from the car in Wimberley, our venue for dress rehearsal, rehearsal was barely ago and messy at best. Bridget couldn’t make the show and let us know day of via email. Eva, the venue manager, contacted me late afternoon to let me know that the show would be cancelled due to a power outage at Spiderhouse Ballroom, a storm had come through the night before. SPB was the only building to lose power. A band of beautiful albeit overdressed freaks, met in the parking lot of Guadalupe and transversed to Kirby Lane café, near the campus of UT Austin.

During our last meal together Rebekah, our newest member and runaway gypsy ballerina, received an invite to perform that night at the Gypsy Lounge on East 6th street. Ironically, the NOLA clowns were playing that venue that night and we had already made plans to attend. When we arrived at the venue we were moved to the outside stage, with the clowns. Stephanie, Rebekah and I did one number each, sandwiched between the clown’s show. It was the first time I was venturing into the world of rhinestones and darkness, usually what I performed was silly, with a story line. It felt wonderful to share the stage with the clowns.

 The following night we were asked to be a filler at the clown show at the Badlands. We preformed to an empty room, frequented primarily by fellow performers. I had decided to do some of my older numbers, the silly ones. I performed for the first time in clown make-up and suddenly it all came together and made so much sense.

The remainder of the week was a whirlwind of work, swimming holes, late nights, tattoos, out loud reading, magic moments that fill you up and leave you empty when they’re gone. The clowns returned to NOLA. 

Michael Taft, a long ago friend that I hadn’t heard from for 13 years, contacted me, offering an astrological reading of my birth chart. He explained that Pluto had crossed every planet in my chart over the last 18 years, causing bondage and chains, leaving me frustrated and grounded. He explained the intensity behind it, saying that no one should have to live through that but all karmic debt had been paid. Saturn was returning in my life, it would rule for the summer and the restlessness that had stirred in me all these years would grow into something unmanageable. Say yes, go, travel. The road would be opened, the chains released, it might not be clear of all obstacles but all the bullshit would be behind me. September 23rd, Pluto would cross my sun, a once in a lifetime occurrence. I would die to the underworld and arise with clarity, spiritually and otherwise. I would transform much like my beloved Luna Moth, greater, stronger, inspired and true. Whatever I have been looking for, that someone or something, would be found this summer.

 I asked to board the tour with the clowns, Eric and Stumps were game but Lom put an end to it. Plan B was in full effect, Mark, Hanuman and I were setting off to CA to find work. Mark needed to return to NOLA to retrieve his fiddle and license.

 A week at Music and Villere at the clown house, dangerous, infested, filthy and hot left a feeling of loneliness and turmoil in me. In past visits I have found the danger of Nola exhilarating, the community embracing.

 We headed north after the 4th of July. We arrived Saturday in Magnolia, Mississippi, a brief jaunt on our journey to visit Ryan and swim in the river. Ryan’s land was refreshing to say the least. That evening we attended a potluck at Laurie’s land, an older hippie artist from New York, we sauntered through fields speckled with roaming sheep, a pond and old oaks. I began to feel a wholeness, good food, company and conversation has a way of cleansing.

 That night I was haunted by dreams that I had tuberculosis, blood stained rags and a knock on life’s door. 

We’d met Ross, a Nola friend that recently purchased 37 acres of pristine pasture. He offered us work, a place to stay and an invite to a house warming party 3 days later. We gratefully accepted the invite. The work was good, I felt strength returning to my body, scrapes and scars from Nola were fading. Long days in the sun digging, cleaning, hauling… late nights in the pasture watching the mist roll in and the stars fade from the sky. Once again I began to feel a sense of belonging, kindred folks and peace.

 Mark was bit by a spider on the foot, his foot swelled and he became immobile, he had talked of leaving Mississippi and meeting up with us further down the road, but the bite forced him to stay. If his fickle and changing moods were difficult before they quickly became intolerable. I began avoiding him in general and lost any sense of empathy.

I had little to no cell phone service and had not heard from anyone in my life, Beau, Bobby, Colin, Stumps, Zahra, barely Matthew. The feeling of solitude was interesting, it isn’t often in this time and age that we separate ourselves, isolate. I began to ponder and question- connection, relationship, to others and self. Furthermore, not many knew that plan B was in effect, most of the people in my life believed that I was on the road performing with the clowns.

 More dreams… I dreamt of Colin. I was preparing to perform, I was doing the number from last fall, “Too close to love you” by Alex Chance. The number was designed around my relationship with Matthew and performed in chains and bondage. I couldn’t get my make up on. I was using 2 different colors of red on my eyelids, that when applied looked like Rorschach blots, I was using wet liner, it kept running with water leaving an appearance that was too clown like, my face became round and full. Bridget, the only one with me in the shack like dressing room left me alone. When I entered the stage a lone table sat in a field of cinderblocks, which were light, like marshmallows but scattered and up ended like fallen rubble after a bomb. The only occupants of the table were Colin, who asked when it would be finished so he could return to his schedule, and Eva, the manager from Spiderhouse.

 Folks from Nola rolled in on Wednesday. A blissful day of swimming, eating, shooting guns, and talking led into a late night of drinking, smoking, and truth or dare. Life was good.

Too many people, names, faces, moments that I don’t want to forget. Watching the clouds in the sky, tattoos of lovers combining to form the tail of a phoenix, changing into a peacock. A diving warrior bird sending forth echoing rings, like a shot across the sky, marked and glowing with gold and pink from the sunset. A blending of wings, cutting away the tail of the peacock, leaving a hole and unmarked being, stripped and unidentified. The combining of the warrior and peafowl, becoming something complete, new and beautiful. Hanuman jumping 30ish feet from the train trestle into water barely chin deep, punks floating downstream on logs loosened from damns. Rolling fog over hay fields, twisting limbs of old oaks reaching with a plea toward an open sky. Ditto the dog, snuggling close late at night, his head on my neck. Turkeytown, his experienced hands and deep blue sparkle painted fingernails, pulling rotten wood from windows, his reassuring laugh and smile. Ross’ pride at what he had laid claim to. The wooden walls painted with pastels, slats rough and old. Ryan, Clare and their kindness, warn green velvet curtains draped in a shed that had been converted to a living space and the way the sun would peak through the insulating panels. Sitting next to Hanuman in the bed of a truck, wind tugging at our hair, laughing. A dare… Kayla was to spoon a passed out Hanuman and whisper in his ear, “If you were 20 years younger, I’d fuck the shit outta you.” Sitting by the fire, counting falling stars, full and fulfilled, loneliness, freedom, beauty.

 So it was in Mississippi, not knowing exactly where the road would lead, whether or not there will be work or how it will design itself but I am free, at peace (even whilst in turmoil). All is as it should be, no all is as it is. What will I find out there? What am I looking for? What has been missing? I know that I can’t settle again, I will not be overlooked, disregarded or left behind by anyone that I give my heart to or my heart won’t be given. I don’t know what I want but I know what I don’t want to do… onward without compromise…

the truth of the matter...

It has been quite sometime since I've posted and so many, many things have happened since. I amicably "desolved" my marriage and moved across the country.
I'm still sharing a house with my ex of 23 years and two lovely children, for now but more of that later.
Life isn't always easy but it is certainly is an adventure! In lieu of all the changes I've decided to make this a little more of a personal blog, and less of a project blog. There will be creative endeavors when appropriate but there are too many things that just need to get out.
I sat at Southside Casino, in Austin where I am now residing, last night with my dear friend, Bobby. Bobby is a writer. We got into a discussion about writing and the importance of doing it each day. So, I'm going to attempt that at least for now. Even if a small amount is all I can manage every day.
I attended a birthday party last night for my friends pet Raven. Late in the evening a new couple arrived. The woman was so put together I could hardly believe the conversation we had. Adorned in a sea green shirt style minidress, delicate gold accessories and a rockn' blonde bob,that framed her angled features in just the right way. She told me of her time in law school, her career in politics, her divorce, her 3 years living in New Orleans. We shared of our passion for that little gem of a city and the acceptance of the community there, the magical ambiance of the streets. She shared about attending a friends birthday brunch earlier in the day, the friend was turning 35, same age as this powerhouse woman in green.
Their conversation centered around how life at 35 looks different than anticipated and the struggles we face in that. I remember that, the lost and confusing thoughts of why here, why this, what now... I realised something in that moment. In the past 8 months these very thoughts, thoughts of failure, desperation loneliness and sorrow have brought me, literally, to the brink. I found myself standing 30 feet high, on top of a metal fence above a rocky and rushing creek ready to let go. Something inside kept me from letting go. I've since said it was the lack of garantee of death, the idea that I could find myself mangled and damaged. perhaps it was merely my vanity that kept me safe but maybe it was the voice that speaks louder inside my head everyday, this voice isn't always clear, it isn't always shouting, sometime s it is a whisper and a small one at that. But it is growing, gaining ground. It is the voice that says, "you are more, you are not a child, you are not a victim, you might feel lonely but you are not alone, you are whole and complete. You sparkle and not just fade." I'm learning to be the captain, to say where the ship goes, too find my own true north, to sit alone with ME and be okay, to know that I am worthy, that I have power, that I am enough.
I told my therapist recently that, "I can sit with the devil in the darkness as long as I know it's the devil" and yes it is true, I am learning to identify my demons, I am giving them names and removing their strength and hold over me. Learning to live, to love, to let go and fly.
My mind is spinning with the things I can continue on with but for now that is enough,it is mother's day, I sit here alone, my kids are camping with my ex and his new girlfriend, and I've got a pair of wings to build.
Learning to fly, loving to soar...