U(ntold) S(tories) S(lowly) R(ecalled)

   

 [Photo credit: Instagram (linagime)]

 Metallica on the stereo for a wake up call

Sleepy eyes make sense of a figure so tall

Speaking in tongues on long walks through city

Making out letters til the tales sound witty 

Dictionary in hand til the break of dawn 

We made the most of that courtyard lawn 

One beach we trekked wasn’t much of a beach

Santa man gives tic tacs post Odysseus speech

Ordering off menus for the day after next, 

Can’t seem to remember the native text 

Coming in, coming out, tunnel light blinks bright 

Enter sandman, I won’t put up a fight 

All unforgiven. forgiven tonight.  

 Mr. Vonnegut 

  

 My mind is filled with stones

All you’ve left are your bones 

When the wind chalks up a tale

The hammer hits the final nail

Since the start, all has been told

Still stand like rock years put on hold 

If impossible falls in class and line

A beam of light won’t shed it’s shine 

We’ve only read, so rest our woes

Our ears won’t hear his “so it goes” 


Pastures green won’t rise sans soil 

Between lies price, a human’s toil 

Strike unknown with steel or stone

Broken flesh RBG is a universal tone

Come one come all, red and blue

How can animal shapes divide false and true


A madness, a sadness haunts us wild

Today and tomorrow rears a new child 

I have a dream, perpetual climbs

That we indulge parallels, destroy paradigms 


X Marks the Spot: A Tail of a Treasured T-Shirt

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In the very back of the Rolodex of mi vida live snapshots of a beautiful childhood. For the majority of these moments, I was wearing one of two t-shirts, both of a nautical theme. The first, an aquamarine cotton base with a portrait of Ariel, a first Disney love. The second, the subject of this scattered recollection, was stark fluorescent white cotton with three animated sharks, jaws head on, the phrase “Your money or Your Blood,” printed right below.

A gift from my mother who bought the gem in Turkey, the t-shirt epitomized all cool by my standards. Though I could not yet read the foreign text, several other elements quickly made it the most popular item in my chromatic wardrobe.

The number of sharks, a trinity, aligned with my knowledge of, and agreement with, my mother’s affinity for odd numbers.

The place of origin (or less romantically, purchase) played an equally important role in my admiration of her gift. Turkey. So exotic, so unimaginably exotic. My perception was that it was a place that I tried tirelessly to create in forming mazes and forts around our living room many times over in the prior years. A t-shirt from Turkey certainly meant that my imaginary lands with their distinct languages and beautifully varied people had a place in reality. And someday, my eyes would adjust as the surreal came to fruition and my feet would be walking on such seemingly distant soil.

Most notably, those mean-mugging sharks held a dear place in my heart because my mama got it. Her trip to Turkey was the first significant amount of time we spent apart. Aside from infrequent moments waiting to open presents on my birthday or standing in Time Out Corner, time was an island I didn’t include in my imaginary places. Didn’t care about it, shed no thought on the subject. But in this instance, my favorite person in the entire world was away for two whole weeks. An eon of eons, it seemed.

In her absence, my friends and I raced down an old raw wooded trail, traveling what we thought was the speed of light past the birch trees. I remember falling and watching the others run ahead. I cried out, but no one stopped. Maybe I had a cut, maybe a flesh wound, maybe a scratch, but regardless of the wound’s nature, no one was there to talk it out with love and comfort, or even call me an idiot. I remember yelling to my friends, long gone by this point, “Yea, well, a snake bit me! I didn’t just fall! So there! There’s that!” Faked it for the trees that time, but they didn’t bend down or shed any leaves of consolation either.

So the few days after this losing race, awaiting her arrival was treacherous and hilarious and filled with a child-like desperation I haven’t felt in a long time.
But she came back, and she brought me a t-shirt with three toothy sharks, saying who knows what in a language I wouldn’t speak until years later. She knew I would adore such a bizarre aquatic scene, and she thought of me. That was the most important thing as a little minion, to know your mama took you with her every place she went in her heart and in her mind.

The shark sketch above, very reminiscent of the Turkish Trio, was a stream of consciousness drawing that actually later sparked a conversation about Mark Cuban and Shark Tank ( I swear I wasn’t thinking of that when drawing. I only pinched together two words: Mean and Shark. Mark.)

In my twenty fifth year, I’m slowly realizing it all comes back to my oldest running best friend.

This is an Ode to All the Mamas.

And cool t-shirts.

Good Night from Atl

Visions of Roadtrips & Sleepless Nights

Not sure if just sleepless or if I woke up to think of a way to calm these travelin blues. Either way I came upon a Frank Stanford poem shared on le social media by one of my favorite bands, Water Liars (www.waterliarsmusic.com)
(IG: Waterliars)

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Can’t you just feel how delicious these visions of life are? It’s more than enough to make for a lovely moment in time.  Frank Stanford, you done made me stop and smell the roses with your tales of clean laundry and canoe-laquering men.  At least for the time being, the traveling feet have been sedated with dreams of a hot summer sun beating down on a jazz & blues tour along the Mississippi,  all the way up to Chicagotown. An old red Chevy pickup with torn white leather seats and scratchy radio will be the only companions I need as I go from countryside, to riverside, to my beautiful people, to some good cookin and of course, back to the same ole tunes and tones that have healed our souls time and again.

Good Night and Good Morning San Diego!

(But really Atlanta, I just wanted to channel Ron Burgandy because this will be a long long day with no Scotch in sight.)

Levels

Levels

I have a lust for all travel near and far, but I’ve started right here at home. I’m nowhere near done getting to know this beautiful Princess of the South. So for now, this is where all of my discoveries … Continue reading