I would give all my time

This dreary exhaustion is like a dream.  Maybe I will open the journal I have started for my Carl Jung class as school.  I will look on the pages where I track my nighttime dreams and the cycles of my month and the moon.  I will see my day written out in funny scrawl.  It will be illustrated here and there in colored pencils and on the side in magnetic yellow: highlights of the theme.  I will think this is my day?  My day to day living or this was last night's image on my mindscreen?

Maybe I will not know the difference.

This is numinousness.  The seeds of the new life the momentum of their growth to come vibrating around them in a visceral humm.  You can feel it but not see it yet, the pulse of energy stronger than anything yet seen.  On the sundeck eating a ridiculous burrito reading about Jack Kerouac.  He skipped classes in school to read forbidden plays and books bc college in NY brought him closer to such contraband.  I feel better about myself.  Clear my phlegmy throat pull my sunglasses down. Put off the four papers that I put off until today.  Dyad in the morning go introduce yourself to the director at the site where you hope to get your supervised internship before noon.  I work for myself get that in, too. Grateful that the need for money is met by something that stimulates my mind and spirit in the way Kerouac and burritos do, and the sun.  Off to Starbucks to write for my submission to Erika also due.  Nicci writes the girl from GRO lets start a girl's surf reskill.  I would give all my time to that and the words and sacred dreams...O wait, that's just what I'm learning to do:  Climb the rock stairs up to Serena's in the canyon chill and dark.  Snuggle on her couch in our pj's discuss business plans.  The lady in Corona about the writing critique-group emails.  They are giving me the last spot, spot number 9.  I'm in.  It's all happening.  Funny dream.

Write a blog not to procrastinate more but to download it all out.  Make room by getting it all down.  This time last year I slept on a couch in Sonoma.  My belongings all in my car.  Red woods trees in the fog dripped through offerings.  I sat stunned over what next in life at Goats Rock.  Never imagined the sea could pound waking out of a life partly asleep. Watched the full moon rise flat disc, white.  Lived on homemade toffee, eggs and Indian food.  Chopped wood and built fires in a woodstove it took an hour to light.

Go write your papers Kelly.  I'm trying, I want to get it all down.

Summer skies stars are fallin all along the injured coast

My coffee in my hand and the sky a colorless balm 6:30 am I was ready.  Then at my car Nici texted nothing out there.  Which I was like shit I know but it says glassy and where we surf midway between here and HB is this sweet small break that is perfect for me who cant surf but is obsessive about learning.  Knee high Kelly waves!!  Boo.

So I am blogging because that is the second best way to unfurl my muscles and soften my stress and relax my bones.  It does not cease to amaze me:  the effect the salt and sun have on my soul.  This is not just hippiedippie as it sounds it is also true.  It is the solitary reason I moved here, all the way away from my family and friends and the land that raised me and the sea that is my own.  Because I need the elements in a bodily, active, daily way.

I am listening to Paul Simon on Spotify, The Rhythm of the Saints.  So remedying for the poet in me and it's been a good year or two since I've started a day with the glory of The Obvious Child.  Should I not have the ocean this morning, I shall instead have this the other tide that moves me.  Words, and muse, which is its own flow all the same.  oooo aaa ooo aaaahhh Summer skies stars are fallin all along the injured coast...In the sixties he just let it out the words the flight the heart of America he moved us on.  I am backstepping now because of all the new which there is to start and it feels scary and huge and insurmountable when it wakes me up in my new bed in my new loft with the peepers chirping out the window their nighttime canyon song.  Surf I don't have to think about.  Just feel and float then rock that shit along.  Just be and let the do happen.  Naturalness surge easy flux of retreat, be still, now move on.  Again, again, yet again.

There is a bonus track called Thelma on Spotify this is re-released, a nice surprise.  I will get the hang of this,  work and school and so on.  I am quite good at in-between I remind myself alot that's what all this is.  It just feels cramped and like I can't move.  That's so not me.

Gratitude goes a long way a day at a time tho.
See~!

The grls,: Annie, me Nic and D in HB

Gray's 10th bday party 9/9/12 xo

From day to day

Reinvention.  It takes time.  That's what's going on:  I am concentrating on where all the rubble has landed.  This is not a bad thing.  Just, concentrated.  And a lot.

Found out that I didn't take out enough money for grad school.  And missed the due date for the minimum deposit.  The strings, when they unravel--even if the grand purpose is to re-ravel them in a more lovely, fitting way--they are wispy and numerous.  Quite a lot to keep track of.  So I have sat down in the middle of it all: the unfurled mess springing out from every direction, just to do what is the next priority from day to day.

Tonight I will apply for more loans and figure out the cheapest way to buy books which are not covered by loans. I am trying to be different then I am.  Not anti-institution and seeing red over the minuscule crap.  I keep perspective by laughing a lot and thinking about how grateful I am for the beach and sunshine and following through with what I always said I'd do.  Wow.  I think of surfing a lot and thank life in my head.  It makes me feel the smile in my heart--this is it, my life.  The only one I've got, I am dealing with the choices I made.  That keeps it all in check.  Mostly.  Also I have friends that listen to my foul mouth and laugh while I blow off steam.  I value that they value that side of me, too.

Trying not to think only of my new surf board and my book.  My book is yelling for me so loud that my morning meditation is actually aligning with my Ipod day after day.   My surf board's named Wiss.  After my aunt.  Monday morning was her inaugural ride and from the line up I popped up then sunk the side and fell right off.  This happened three times then Chelsea who's eleven was like is that board a little tough for you?  Yea I said I'm definitely wobbly and I took the next wave in to shore break.  Nici hollered little tips for the next hour.  The board is a full foot shorter then anything I've rode.  Finally she pointed to a spot to put my right foot and I did and was up just like that.   White water warrior again and again I never went back to the line up just told Nic I'd be out soon then eventually went and got a burrito instead.  Haha California when did you happen?

Grad school syllabus has hundreds and hundreds of pages to read each month.  Surfing writing reading repeat.

Lots to tie up before I get to that, tho~

Like I always do

Laguna.  It's like a whole new experience of being in California for the first time. A whole new bottomless new, all over again.  It felt impending as it got closer, full of locked dark fear, now I know why.  Paul came with Jill, Derynn helped me all day Friday, I try to concentrate on the grace of alignment and the little pleasures and joys and peace of place...and home?  I can walk to a world-known artfest.  There are trees out the window of my loft I can touch because in California no windows have screens.  There are private beaches and hippies and long-dressed ladies, rolling hills that remind me of Sonoma and nightime canyon air.   The arcs of earth twinkle like sighs or breath.  There is a friendliness here that I haven't found any place else on the West Coast.  Last night at a Mexican restaurant a man name Pete talked to me for an hour about Laguna's what what and all the where's.  I was grateful for the contact but left before I got teary because gay and emotional as Pete was proud to be it still would've been too much for him.  Since he was a stranger I'd just laughed a lot with over carnitas, afterall.

I got my keys for this place on Wednesday, got accepted to grad school that day, it was also my year anniversary of arriving to Cali.  I was riding glee and high.  Mike and I went out which was planned as a catch up not a celebration so it turned timely and perfect.  I am glad I have him right now--I needed Sean my brother all weekend and Mike who lives just north of me here was the best man in his wedding and just knowing he is here continues to anchor me.  And this weekend which has shown me again how quick it is that the spheres of earth can move...it is impossible to not feel isolated which is wickedly different than the cleanly feeling of alone.

Finally Sean and I spoke this morning.  I was sleepless at 5, could think only of surfing because I guess the flat surfaces and quiet slants of nighttime color where I sleep felt a lot in my mind like the ocean in the early morning, when all colors seem to emanate from and back to the same shade.  My brother and I who are psychic our whole lives with each other it was true came to each other today at dawn with things we only could understand together.  He was trying to communicate to Jamie and I to Mike it turned out the same stuff, though it was something he and I barely needed words with one another to get.

I don't want to teach today.  I want to be headed east.  I'm going to need a boyfriend I think I need someone who's just there.  I had five dates with a guy who disappeared after I wouldn't have sex.  I had two dates with a different guy who disappeared entirely the day after telling me he wanted to really get to know me and try to "do this thing."  I am tired.  I am thinking of my family and of my strength and how weak I feel and how sometimes what makes us who we are is not the beautiful part, but the pain.  How these so often line up with seemingly no reason.  Sean sent me a picture of a butterfly that landed on his brother-in-laws finger after they'd talked heart to heart about the mysteries in life.  I will choose the mystery, gratefully, which is what I always do.

It will take a while for my soul and heart tho.  Mysteries can hurt like hell.

Mine was clean

Drove to Laguna this morning.  Found my dream.  Spent the afternoon at Sawdust Art Festival--here is a free idea, someone figure out how to get Instagram pics to upload to Blogger--  Because the trees growing through the art booths built in to the canyon walls??  Come on.  You need to see it to believe.  Laguna I'm yours. Take my idea someone I'm sure it will make you a nice little egg.

Put some applications in today, finished my portion of grad school apps yesterday.  Started reading this bitchen essay on poetry while at the outdoor mall in the sun.  How academia in the second half of the century  made it a specialized art form. That devalued its primal social function of speaking for the people.  YEP yep and yep.  Making it so the only people who care about poetry are the "poets"--now defined as the ones who paid the money to go to school programs to gain access to who's who.  Reminds me of Gary Snyder's short piece on a man and woman who went up to spend a season together in a fire lookout.  When a co-ranger got up there to check on them he said but all that was left was two assholes jumping through each other.

Google it Dana Gioia Can Poetry Matter.

Picked up Greyson and chilled with him last night so Derryne could tattoo.  He was at Annie's, she fed me dinner with her fam then made calls to Newport friends to play whose who and who knows who and scoop out info and embarrass me.  Orange County is so full of all these insular small towns, and rivalries.  It's funny and odd.  Greyson is 10.  We took a walk downtown at sunset along the beach and I realized, as I always do, how easy it is to hang out with dudes between the ages of 10 to 20.  Like we just laugh and make fun of each other and I swear to god no other time in life is it easier for me to be myself.  The lady getting the tattoo, when we got back to 12th street, was like oh sure that's because it's all fun...no worries no stress.  You just get to be.

There was sun inland all day but the coast is still socked in.  Derryne cancelled on me for Duende Flamenco and dancing.  I have no plans and will probably take a nice bike ride then read.


Yes, that's just it, isn't it?  I just get to be.  Maybe the main difference goes: When Grey and I got back to 12th last night his face was covered in chocolate, covered, from sweet treats.  And I had enough self-consciousness to make sure mine was clean.  

Breathe. Smile. Go Slow.

Yoga tonight, it was great, Derryne's mantra for practice was Breathe.  Smile.  Go Slowly.  On our last few rounds of sun salutations she really had us go deep in to our breath, which I would do all of class if I could (and wind up on my own endless bliss planet, Planet Kel.)   She said imagine you are moving through honey.  I did.  It made me smile, a lot.

Told my class today that the reason I call them my little chickens is because I am the Mama Hen.  I tried to explain what this meant.  Mama Hen doesn't translate so well.  I caught the Japanese girls calling me The Big Chicken.  With genuine affection in their voices.

This has made me laugh until I am wet-eyed no less than six times today.

Mom's birthday today, Beth yesterday, Paul the day before.   Season of Cancer, Mother Energy.  Talked to ma and grandma.  Thought about men, how I was raised to believe men behave.  What my experience has affirmed or changed of those ideas.  What ideas still need adjusting.

Thoughts are with Erika.  My novel's moving.  Grad school apps are close to complete--ahhhhh and so instead of writing this afternoon when the rare Southern California rain showed up I laid down on my bed and got snuggly and listened to the way the rain sounds in the alley right out of my side window.  Just like I used to love to do in Ocean Pines, the smack noise of rain on tree leaves on to the ground.  Ahhhh.

Tiki Bar last night.  Dancing in the parking lot at midnight. Cute.  I love my life.  Breathe.  Smile.  Go slow.

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