posted September 04, 2007 08:01 PM              

reminds me of the poet Dorothy Parker, 1893-1967

Midnight

The stars are soft as flowers, and as near;
The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun;
No separate leaf or single blade is here-
All blend to one.

posted September 05, 2007 01:46 AM            

"I can see you dancing your sentences;
collapsing into periods,
springing into exclaimation points,
and looking over your shoulder in mid-fall
(a question mark)."

posted September 05, 2007 02:27 PM            

And thank you for sharing that poem, naiad.

Very cool.

posted September 06, 2007 12:38 AM              

btw...you showed up in a dream last night. you were heading a group of people who were involved in an underground, kind of dangerous, socially aware, perhaps avant-garde is an appropriate description, theatre project. somehow, i was there, and though an outsider, and not quite certain whether i fit in, you were welcoming, and though quite busy, were quite kind.

at one point there was another member from this site, who did a kind of burlesque/risque little dance on a stage, as i stood to the side of the stage, in front of an audience of this underground group. still feeling rather uncertain, i applauded, and kicked up my heels for a moment or two, as everyone continued applauding. there was much good cheer in the air, and an insider's knowingness, i suppose.

later in the dream, i was still in these surroundings with you and your group, and you entered the room, which appeared kind of like a lounge, dark and musty and very spare, with odd pieces of furniture scattered about....as i've said, very "undergroundish," authentic bohemian.

you were excited about your association and its activities, busy and breathless, and when you saw me, i went over to you and we had this big enveloping friend hug.

**the rest gets bizarre, so prepare...in fact, i believe i will gloss over some of the details.**

i then looked at you, and you became blissful. and in this blissful state, you went to sleep in my arms, while we were still standing there. i gave a sigh of exasperation and affection, as i do when my ever-growing son asks to be held, as he is rather large for me to hold now, but he so loves me to hold him when he requests it. it was like that. and i sighed that sigh, and said ok, i'll pick you up and carry you, though knowing it would be a very strenuous thing to do. but i was happy to do so. and i walked off, carrying you, with a blissful look on your sleeping face, with a happiness about carrying you, like a sleeping babe, albeit a very large babe, in my arms.

quite strange....sorry if this embarrasses you, but as a philosopher-type, who seems to enjoy staring into the abyss, and then living to tell about it, i thought you might have some sort of appreciation for my relating this dream to you. and perhaps some kind of explanation? i find it very baffling, and somewhat intriguing. the whole scene of the dream was very upclose and intense, with all the various participants -- you were in and out of the picture regularly, as you seemed busy and attenuated to the project at hand. so there were lots of moments of sitting in a room with others, unknown, and listening to their conversations.

posted September 06, 2007 11:14 AM            

Naiad,

I was going to start a "naiad" thread here.
Then I read your dream and now "naiad" on the brain in earnest.
Not sure what I have or had to say to you though.

The dream...

I think I understand it,
but its hard to put my understanding into words.

They say that schizophrenia is connected to the mother.

Something about that frantic, nervous, compulsively driven energy.

Needs a hug.

And no doubt you recognize that in me.

The way I behaved in your dream is very Uranian,
and its a definite side of me.
I get like that when I'm "possessed" by an idea.

Do you know who Antonin Artaud was?

I've always had an interest in avante-guard, "guerilla" theater.

When I was little, I wanted to be a film director.
I directed "movies" with my friends,
and filmed them on my camcorder,
before I hit adolescence...
after that it was all Drugs, Girls, and Russian Literature.

I still sometimes think about going to film school.

And there are sometimes ads on "craig's list",
people making independent films in Boston,
looking for collaborators...
I think about answering them,
but I'm still too reclusive,
and the problem with film....
it is such a collaborative medium,
and I am too covetous for control of my ideas.
I dont really work well with others.
In fact, I tend to think everyone else is "wrong",
except my friend, Dan, who is a brilliant artist,
and who's opinion I take very much to heart.

I dont know why I say some of the things I do here at LL.
I would never say some of these things in "real life".
Some of the arrogant things... insulting people's intelligence.
I can't explain why I do it, or why I think its okay.
Yesterday I went through a whole weird "thing" with myself.
I sort of hated myself.
Then life showed up.
Actually, my friend Nick showed up.
He has no place to stay.
I told him he could stay the night,
but my parents freaked out when they met him,
and asked him to leave.
They thought he was on something.
Actually, he's always like that.

My friend Nick is schizophrenic.
At first, I thought it was just a REALLY bad case of ADHD.
We (his friends) have watched him deteriorate a lot this past year.
He rarely ever stops talking.
He talks in riddles and meandering nonsense.
He talks a lot about this rapper, Guru,
and some album, "Jazzmatazz"...
He says he's an Avatar, no need of a Guru.
but "Nick" is on a star somewhere,
and he's got ancestors in Europe,
and he's going to New York,
he's going to be a travelling MC,
and its all already happened,
but it hasnt,
etc., etc., etc.

I always knew people went insane.
It's a little scary when it hits this close to home.
He was one of us...
another highly sensitive, artistic, philosophical young man.
Nick was good at everything.
He could have skateboarded professionally.
He played the drums.
He got into Yoga for a few years,
totally turned his life around,
he was even teaching Yoga classes.
Maybe it opened him up to quickly.
Or maybe it was the acid.
Maybe it was his father.
He never met him.
Maybe it was his mother.
She was never around,
his Grandmother raised him.
Maybe it was his Gemini Moon,
Conjunct the Ascendant and Opposite Neptune.
Maybe all these things.
He has no one now.
His mother cant even see that he needs help.
I dont know how he feeds himself.
Somehow he manages.
I wonder where he slept last night.
I might call him,
but I dont really want to get into another
conversation about how he is an MC on a star.
Not this early in the morning.
Yeah, 11:00 is early for me.

Okay, thats whats up in my head and world today.

How's everybody else?

posted September 06, 2007 05:15 PM            

You should have watched "On the Lot"
There was a Scorp who I thought was great who went home early because he "knew" what was the right way was and told people so and they couldn't handle it and ganged up on him and sent him home. You should have been inside my mind for THAT one. hehe

posted September 06, 2007 05:49 PM            

I almost cried when I first read what you wrote about me.
I keep rereading it, mining every last bit of good feeling.

If it weren't for vanity, I'd have no pleasures at all.