new moon blah blah blag….

happy to awake to a silky soft grey sky morning.  was getting sick of the searing sunshine cloudless sky feeling.  thank you seattle beautiful moody gentle weather that looks like cream in coffee, a dream world, an impressionist painting.  i am glad autumn is approaching so that it makes sense to sit longer at my writing machine to type, where living in the head feels right, and i can nourish my craft.  it’s been near dead this past week.  some weeks are like that.  all body and no thoughts.  all feelings like anvils.  i know better not to analyze it.  watch things instead, stare out the window, dump the past into the vortex of forgetting.  start over.  new moon.  eclipse.  writing desk.  solitude.  jogging.  job hunting.  contemplating relationships.  and the world’s state.  and my friends.  contemplation for breakfast lunch and dinner.  not much in the department of tears or excitement.  middle ground, with bouts of heaviness where i am much like a birch tree and wish to not move for a thousand years.  will creativity return?  i need my muses.  whom are always men.  whenever there are no men in my life, i feel too much like a counselor, healer, and teacher.  all left brain analysis and keeping to the scared routine.  boring.  it’s the male vibe, for me, that is my muse.  not only lover, also friend.  equally.  i miss my male friends who inspire me the most.  they are as important to me as my female friends.  oh well.  and as for romance, i am beginning to feel like a broken record and need to shut up. i keep thinking back to the bouncer who told me, “he’ll tell you.”  i keep thinking to how he also said, “that rock in your head hurts.”  i keep thinking about all the single women my age, all beautiful, all alone.  and the friend who just got the worse news that he has betrayed her trust.  there’s pain and it’s real.  no need to single it out.  try to move on.  i miss the days of the salon.  I’m miss henry and anais, even though i never hung out with them.  nostalgia is coursing through my blood.  i miss the feeling of being really young, and able still, to believe in fantasies.  yet the more i come into this body, into this here and now, the more wonderful i feel without the fantasy.  it’s weird.  that happiness really does not have to do with getting the things i want, but with the feeling of being here for a millimeter of a second in the infinite sea of incarnations, where our lives are only a speck of sand.  perspective.  feeling drawn to kids again.  sort of.  this time, high school.  sort of.  could i work with kids again?  i wonder.  where do i belong next?  whom shall i help?  where is the next test?  tonight at eleven.  who cares really.  i feel without a care this morning.  not care free per se, but without a care.  i’ll go jog in the mist, like a speck.  type at the laptop like a fleck.  maybe paint a picture, listening to dali tell me what to paint, in my head…