Echo

when i go back to la this month, what are the chances i run into missed connections guy?

discuss.

Am I eccentric or visionary? I know this is a strange thing to talk about, but it’s necessary. You need to know. I’ve been planning to have my eggs harvested and stored for a year now. Gonna aim to get it done in the next few months. For practical reasons, the older a woman gets, it’s not her ability to carry a child that diminishes but the quality of the eggs she produces, so it’s good to get them harvested the younger the better. I wish I had thought of it when I was 29 and had more money, but it doesn’t matter. Also, looking ahead, if I have them stored, if anything were to happen to me and I pass on without leaving someone to carry on in this world, those left behind could always choose to introduce my progeny into this world via surrogacy. Who knows, maybe they may even be me in a new consciousness. I know it’s a strange idea, but for some reason, it feels important to me to do this to give future world the option. I brought it up to my mom last year and she thought the harvesting was a good idea, but when I told her that this way, if anything were to happen to me, she could still have a grandchild by me, she was weirded out. Maybe it was the idea of me not being around, or mothering a child posthumously. Sorry, mom. I know it’s a lot to wrap your head around. But the truth is, should something happen, I think you would rather have the option than not.

At some point, I will also have to create a will that includes naming someone to be responsible for them and potential donations if I’m gone. I know it’s a strange thing to ask of someone. But I figure I’ll know who when I cross that bridge.

Just did my 750 words. My rating has been upgraded to a PG-13 for sexual content. Yay! Though I don’t know where the sexual content is. I looked back and there wasn’t anything. But maybe the system just knows…

I wrote 754 words in 8 minutes, typing 108 wpm. Thematically, I was most concerned with eating/drinking. While spewing ambiguous sexual content.

Yeah, sounds about right.

Got an MRI tonight and when I pointed out to the technician where it was hurting, he said it was where my quad connects. I’m hoping I just pulled it or got a minor tear, and the other issues are just tracking problems. I know I have an imbalance where my quads are strong but my hamstrings weak. It’s because I’m lazy with hamstrings. I promise that if there’s no serious damage requiring surgery and just an issue of rest and physical therapy to work out muscular imbalances, I will work really hard at them.

Looked out the window this morning (yes, I said morning. I was up at the buttcrack of 9:20am trying to get an appt for my knee), I saw the first cruise ship of the season outside. Ah, that brings back memories.

Meet me on the other side, it’s a brand new start to a brand new life, I’m open…
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

A couple of the biggest things I miss about LA are KCRW and the Hollywood Bowl. Going through KCRW’s archives. So many gems including a live show by Morcheeba. I went to their show at the Fonda but didn’t catch their live set on KCRW. It was one of the best concerts I’d ever been to. Check out this show for a taste:

yesterday’s free-write:

Oh, my moon-eyed muppet. You have no idea I, or we, collectively, have a pet name for you. You and your big brown eyes with huge pupils overtaking, smooth olive skin and those eyebrows like god painted them in. Elf ears. Where did you come from and where are you taking me? I’ve got nothing to do but keep my hands in my pocket and let you lead the way. If I were trapped in a missile silo, I would first check exits, then check for communication, then supplies. There I find full supplies, food water, etc., but none of the communication equipment works. All I know is that I woke up from a dream, in which I was so close to someone from the past that I could feel him. But this time, instead of the nameless/faceless man I’ve been seeing my entire childhood, it is someone I knew once, a long time ago. And in fact, it was here, that I knew him. So the computers are up but I can’t seem to send any outgoing messages. There are status reports from other stations. Equipment destroyed, offline. Hello? There doesn’t seem to be anybody out there. I’m stuck in here. And I think the world above me is destroyed, gone, and I may be the last person. But the strange thing is, I don’t know how I got down here. This program has been shut down for years. Last night, I went to bed in my own bed. Or did I? Did something traumatic happen that put me in the hospital? What was it that I was trying to do? Why did I happen to think about him that night? He must have been the sum of my answers. Somewhere in waking life, I was awake, and suddenly plunged into sleep. When I wake, you will not remember me. This is from his dream. He has dreamed of her, seen her, felt her so close that he could almost smell her skin. He wants her. He has always wanted her, but he gave up on her because he could never have her. And then she shows up and haunts his dreams. When I wake, you will not remember me. When he wakes? Why when she wakes? Because it is her dreams that control his reality. He has always been tied to her, known it on a conscious level, but the only way she was ever going to believe that he’s real is if she finds the man from her dreams in real life. And even when she had originally met him, he wasn’t him yet. So she didn’t recognize him. Ah, sweet sweet love. You only show yourself at the right time and place. I used to wonder if the feeling of love was a trick, something to lure me in and motivate me to work out all my karmic debt. My karma comes out of the 12th house, through the past, through my romantic relationships, my ideals. I need a spiritual union that somehow heals the past to allow for a future, however abstract and mystical. Someday, I want to have a life of my own, a love of my own, something that I can look at and feel its what I’ve been looking for my entire life. One day, I want to look into your eyes and know that I have finally found you. Why have I been dreaming for so long, dreams that feel more real than life? There was that one night that scared me. I woke up to a light in my room coming from the outside, my body unable to move, and garbled noises, like chanting in another language on the radio, a language almost like static…but with more heart. Was it then that they found me? Was it then that they whispered the secrets of my past to me? Was it then that I ceased to sleep, but only to dream. I am wayward in my ways. I am lost in my own devices. My darkness is my light because I feel the world of darkness. Sometimes, the night echoes back to me and I feel the familiar hand of time upon my shoulder. I am only here until I am not here. And something about that tells me that I am so small, that there is nothing to do but make a difference. I want to find you, hold your hand, look you in the eye and tell you how long it has been since I first found you, in a different world, in my dream.

A funny thing has been happening the last month. Every time I go to type in Curtis’s name to get to his facebook page, Reggie shows up right underneath him, even though we’re not Facebook friends. It was always a matter of time before we could be friends again. I figured when we are both married with kids. We always were friends, we probably always will be friends. He just wasn’t my dude, and I wasn’t his girl. Sometimes, that’s life, and it doesn’t do anyone any good to ignore the truth or drag things out if you already know. We did the right thing that respected both people and our friendship.

Even after we went our separate ways, my Michigan friends in LA would bump into him a lot. I would get news about him from them, and heard two years ago from Jessie that he had asked about me (at the time I was living with someone overseas), so she didn’t know what to say. But then he said, “It’s not like that. I’m seeing someone.” I was happy to hear that. He treats women very well.

Today, the same thing happened–his profile came up so I clicked on his page and saw I could see his photos. I looked through them and the first thing that was great was that he looks really happy. The 2nd, was there was a picture of him with a woman, and the caption said that they were together again after 19 years apart. !!! His college sweetheart! I’d heard about her. Though I can’t remember much. That’s incredible.

I know at some point I’ll get in touch with him or he’ll get in touch with me. I definitely want to hear this story of how they were reunited. Of all the relationships I had, Reg is the only one I can ever see myself being friends with because that was always our bond. He also paved the way for the me today, helping me see that there are nice guys out there, and while they’re not perfect, they can have good intentions and want the best for me. The time spent with him was a time of growth and healing. We’re not friends right now, but we’re not not friends. We’ll be friends again when the timing is right. In the meantime, I’m happy for him. I hope he gets his fairytale ending.

More music for your Sunday. I love Ludovico Einaudi. I write to his music on loop a lot:

I love KCRW + David Gray:

Really great live session with Sia at KCRW in LA.

little black sandals…saved my life today…

and it’s something quite peculiar…

something that’s shimmering and white

leads you here, despite your destination…

under the milky way tonight.

The song, “Happy Together” by the Turtles popped into my head, but I was thinking of a woman singing it soulfully. I thought how great it would be if Cat Power has done a cover of it. I thought, surely, there would be plenty of covers. But there weren’t many. Maybe in the future. I did find a cover by Filter, of “Hey Man Nice Shot” fame (I still remember one night when I was 18 or 19, driving home on the Lawrence Expressway with the sun roof open and it was the middle of the night–“Hey Man Nice Shot” blasting through my entire being and I felt alone but on top of the world).

The line is “You and me. Me and you.” But it sounds like, “You will make…me, you.” And I thought that was a nice counter-psyche addition to add more drama to the song.

You don’t have any sex scenes in any of your writing.

I suddenly realized I didn’t.

I can find words to open universes within hundred millions of things, but no words combined have ever stood up to adequately describe what the experience of sex is for me. It is a happening that has so much depth, words are faint echoes of it.

I talk about it so people don’t notice I don’t talk about it. It is bigger than me, the only secret I’ve ever been able to keep. It is beautiful and it will changes worlds. But I don’t talk about it. And neither do they. Maybe I tend to choose people who are secretive or have no one to tell. But they seem to allow me to be, out of respect for what was experienced.

What will it take to get an R rating?

i need a visionary who can help me quantify myself.

750words.com takes freewriting to the next level. It determines that 750 words is about the length of 3 pages, so writers are encouraged to write 750 words a day, building up streaks.I signed up for next months contest, which pushes you to write 750 words every single day of the month. Those who do not get put on a Wall of Shame.  You determine your rewards, so I wrote out mine…

If I succeed, I will… treat myself to copious amounts of sex

…not knowing it publishes publicly to other contestants. Oh well.

The best part of the site is that it analyzes your free-write entry and tries to determine your mood and themes based on what you wrote, as well as graphing your progress and giving you a parental rating (I’m PG).

I’ve only done one entry but there’s a link into your subconscious (with 1 entry, there’s not sufficient data yet for me to see mine).

But it’s pretty cool.

My data page.

My old car was a reliable horse. It never quit on me until it got to a safe place to quit. It never stranded me in a place where I could be scared.

My body is usually the same, though I’m realizing not to push it so hard. Yesterday, my knee suddenly started feeling weird, just a lot of clicking. I’d stopped playing on it because it definitely didn’t feel normal, but I didn’t want to have to make a big deal out of leaving the game, so I just played it out but being more social than competitive. Steve asked me after the game if I was okay and if I had hurt my shoulder on one of the plays. I told him my knee just started to really bother me. Curtis.2 thought it was the IT band and showed me some stretches. Then he did the crash and burn I’d written about, but the thing was, the entire time, I wanted to leave. My knee really wasn’t feeling good and I didn’t want to get in any awkward moments with this guy, but he was talking, and I didn’t find a comfortable time to extract myself. The thing was, the whole time he was doing it, he would say something really out there and then he would self-critique, saying, “You must think I’m a moron” or “You must think I’m a creep.” It was like he couldn’t stop himself from saying the exact wrong thing, and had the torture of being completely aware of it. I was trying to be kind about it, listening to him closely to try to understand him, what he wanted, and why he was going about things the way he was, even though at times, it was really hard to respond kindly when I didn’t know what to say.

I can imagine he’s a pretty lonely guy. And he’s not a bad guy, but he seemed to be sabotaging himself and unable to stop himself. Did he want me to think he was a moron? Did he want me to think he’s a creep? I can’t imagine that. But maybe there was a part of him that was being a moron and a creep, to himself, getting in his own way. Most girls would have thought the conversation outrageous. And if this is his pattern, then he probably gets girls blowing him off, which makes him feel bad, but then it ends up about how he justifies it to himself. But it seemed like a wicked thing to be doing to himself. Regardless, I think sometimes when you talk to people, it’s about acceptance. Even if it’s out of kindness and courtesy. That in this moment, as long as you’re not threatening me, I’ll try to see you for who you are at the core, instead of judging you by my subjective standards, or judging your actions and output to be definitive of who you are.

We ended up talking for over an hour, and I decided there was no way I could do any cardio. I went downstairs, did some of my shoulder exercises, then headed out. I’ve been wanting to go to Costco to pick up some fruit and turkey. I looked at the clock and realized they were closing in 45 minutes. Thought about waiting until the next morning. Told myself not to be lazy and headed to Costco. Took my time. Got more than I would normally get. Using my gym bag and creative balancing, got almost everything upstairs in one trip. I had to have been carrying over 50 lbs. Soon as I got home, knee peaces out. Could barely walk or stand on it. When straightened, can’t bend. When bended, can’t straighten. Severe pain at diagonal locations.

Even today, I can barely bear weight, but I have to wait out the weekend, stay home and take it easy, then call the doctor’s office on Monday morning when they’re open. I find it interesting that I was able to stick around, be nice to that guy, go shopping, carry a donkey load of groceries upstairs, before crashing to a stocked fridge. Part of me thinks the universe is giving me a time-out and telling me to write. If that’s the case, would be psyched if Monday morning, I’m flush with pages and my knee miraculously rebounds like nothing was wrong.