starfrosting: (firmament)

Last night Di came over and we cleared the air by virtue of a bro'down, him kinda talking me into the ground a bit but eventually me too stoned to care too much, glad to be sliding back into more normal friendship with its conative powers. I woke up on too little sleep (completely tore up by that boxing fight that was on last night blaring out someone's window, tons of yelling and street noise into the night, Critter getting into it, ugh), Di already left the sofa to go surfing, prayed and had a nice walk with Critter and then off to a family lambroast for Greek Easter out in Brooklyn at a cousin Markos' place. The sky was azure, lots of family scattered elsewhere but my cousins down from Cambridge, my dad's Cousin Stephen manning the lamb which I couldn't (or, at least, wouldn't) eat, my great-Uncle Yannis the patriarch of the family (in good health despite oxygen) and his partner Kristina, spanikopita and touropita and choriatiki with dressing Yannis made and koulourakia, dry red wine and a keg in the corner, little past-toddling-age bebes everywhere, so much beauty and family joy. I was a little nervous 'bout showing up the sole representative of my more "immediate" family, bearded and all, but instead I just got the warmest love (& Yannis, white-bearded himself, complimented my beard, in a way that made it no issue at all). Now I'm home body aching, impending doom about work but at this point I'm inclined to just enjoy the evening and banch it out later this week.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

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This morning smelled like tea tree and rose oil, lit my candles and wrapped tefillin, warm beeswax and leather. Nine hours of sleep in my love's arms, vivid dreams and a good little chunk of writing done last night and about to leave for class soon. I'm not gonna beat myself up for not super-efficiently using this early-afternoon to write; I'll have other opportunities to do establish discipline and writing routines. Right now I'm just feeling grateful and aligned, a more open channel, flow between my souls and an abating sinus ache.
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Today was a snow day; Di invited me to come to the beach with her since school was cancelled. So we drove out to Rockaway with her surfboard strapped on top of her little '75 beamer, it was sweet the empty plowed streets, outer reaches of the outer boroughs, freezing snow drifts and midday light over the waves. I took pictures while she was surfing, found a little palm-sized pounding rock that looks like a whale, breathed the salty sea air and felt my toes freezing in my galoshes. I pushed the car free on the way home where we watched a pipeline surfing contest over a six-pack and spliffs.

Nico said, Oliface, are you a polar bear now? )


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Dear dark o' the moon, when thin-skinned irritability gives way to wonder at the permeability between worlds underneath a cold black bowl of sky. There's something about that dilation, the aperature widened by the absence of the moon, that makes membranes thin. I'm just grateful when instead of feeling oversensitive and nuts around this time I get moments of receptive sensitivity too, prickly with wonder for a change.

eight stack

Sep. 2nd, 2010 06:47 pm
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After an awesome French reading class today I was struck with frittering anxiety gathering speed so I walked in the hot heat, got a smoothie 10ยข short from a truck on University and set to combing the stacks outside the Strand. Sometimes, like today, the dollar racks are a blessing from the city/universe/Gods. I scored:

-A three-inch wide book called The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling with illustration plates, a gift for Taylor.

-Escoffier's Ma Cuisine, in English malheureusement.

-The Kybalion, a little blue hardback book of soi-disant Hermetic philosophy

-Woman Who Glows in the Dark, about curanderismo

-The Quantum Gods, a real black occult paperback from Weiser

-Paul Auster's City of Glass, which the guy inside congratulated me on

-A dark little gastronomical novel called The Debt to Pleasure with a cut-out on the jacket framing a picture of a peach

-And oh, maybe the best for last, Kazantzakis' The Saviors of God: Spiritual Exercises
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"Do not worry! all will be perfect for you."
--Uncle Yannis
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The moon must be waning because I want to cull, cull, cull! organize + eliminate. It feels great to finally do it! Split that infinitive hard, okay, cos I just cleared a whole space. Taylor's room looks better already.

I got to leave work way early today because I'm technically contagious and while I got a stormcloud over my head for a minute when I thought I'd ruined one of my most favorite pair of shoes by smearing beeswax conditioner all over their non-smooth surface, that cleared. I got a nubuck cleanin' kit from the CVS and prayed over my shoes, seriously, Blessed art You...Revitalization, creation and beauty. They look a lot better now.
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Here's a bunch of stuff that feels blessed:



Here's me in my undershirt in my kitchen:
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The car mechanic referred to me with male pronouns, and my mom was there which was good practice for keeping my elation under control. He's this totally sweet local man in his 50s, and I don't really know how I passed since I wasn't even binding today but I did. What the fuck.
. . .

I'm feeling so much calmer after getting good advice from folks who know what they're talking about on so many levels-- the sadomasochistic, the spiritual, etc. It's not even about the one particular thing for which I needed some of their expertise so much as it is a sort of delight at all the energy and focus people can have.

I feel enlivened, encouraged to run my energy, clear my head a bit and drop into a more deep awareness. I feel the need to get involved in work that is fed by this, that changes shit little by little.

This must be that space between Litha and Lughnassadh.

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