courage to believe the unknown is better than an unfulfilling known, because you will make it so. courage to understand the respect of one’s dreams is essential in the journey towards the respect of self. courage to have conviction that there is more beyond that which is seen and felt. finally, wisdom to see the connections.
the wings that will bring you to great heights.
someday, two feet ahead, you will round the corner and there you are.
gemini
bright eyed mercurial child
a million stars of atlantis sky
bursting from the bottom of the ocean
can suddenly.
be still.
wave pools ripple silver animation
a naked kind of innocence
one look and she’s inside of you
will you come for the ride?
incorrigible sleepwalker
pretty little mindfucker
with mouth and hands that haunt
such an awkward, fragile creature
this one will never be caught.
she’s poetry in motion
compares to storms and ocean
heart like a giant
but all around…flatline.
magnetic polarity
minor cult infamy
an ephemeral symphony (when the mood strikes)
a smile that hits your tickle zone like a silk-gloved bitch slap.
the truth is in the eyes.
she is
passionate storms on black, endless nights
she is
forest earth rich with rainwater
she is
midnight to dawn in another place and time
she is
never the same person.
and then sometimes…
in the shadows of 3am…
just two bright eyes peering out from darkness
and the silence of the moon, breathing in time with the ocean.
peter
This is how I met Peter.
I was sitting at a local pub around the corner from where I’m going to be living in Seattle, trying it out as spot for me to write, a home away from home. I was engrossed in my free-write with my earphones in, and he came up to the counter wearing a blue service shirt and a blue cap. I couldn’t tell if he was hip or if he was delivering something. He was friends with the bartenders so he would talk to them, then leave, then come back again. I never caught him looking at me, but I just had a feeling I was on his radar.
When I was packing up my things to leave, he came up and asked the bartender if he heard about what happened to Tom, the Bears fan. The bartender said he heard he went to the Seahawks game and got pickpocketed. He told him Tom was wearing sweatpants and it just fell out of his pocket. But someone did spend his money.
I had taken out one of my earphones to listen to the story as I packed, because it sounded interesting. But I felt I needed to address one detail of the story. “Who wears sweatpants to a public event?”
He turns and looks at me, sizing up where I’m coming from. “Like if you’re coming from the gym,” he said.
C’mon, man. Sweatpants are never okay at public events.
He starts telling this story that starts with, “I lost my wallet once when I was living in Minneapolis…,” but he’s kind of looking at the guy next to him, not me as he’s talking, so I go back to packing my stuff, tuning him out. He gets to the end of his story and says, “Did you even hear any of my story at all?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were talking to me,” I said.
He says he lost his wallet in Minneapolis, but that day, two Peter Jaeger’s had lost their wallets, so someone mailed the other Peter’s to him. He said it still had money in it. He mailed it to the other Peter.
“Did you ever find yours?,” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“Don’t you think it’s unusual that two people with the same name living in the same city lost their wallet on the same day?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“That’s gotta be magic.”
“That’s definitely something going on.”
Then he turns, leaves.
*****
I went into the bar this morning to do some writing. Peter’s working behind the bar. He asks me if I’m gonna get some work done. He’s seen me in here every day on my computer. “Yes,” I tell him. “Last day!”
“What do you mean last day?”
“I’m flying home today, and then I’ll be moving up here in 2 weeks.”
“Where’s home?”
“Los Angeles.”
He tells me about his experience going to Los Angeles. He asks me why Seattle and I tell him that I’ve always wanted to live here, and there’s no better time for me to do it than now. He asks where I’m living and I tell him, down the street. He said he lived in this area as well when he first moved out, and it’ll be a great experience. He’s a midwest guy, Big 10, Iowa vs my Michigan. He’s the one who tells me I’m going to be very happy because this is the exact bar in Seattle where the Michigan Alumni gather every Saturday. He tells me I chose the right place.
He apologizes and says he never got my name.
“Julia,” I say, shaking his hand. “And you’re Peter Jaeger, who lost his wallet in Minneapolis.”
Yes, I am, he said. And we fall back into a conversation about that story, which I love. I tell him he never knows…he might still find his wallet yet.
As I’m leaving, I mention how I’m really excited about this city, how it’s a completely new beginning. I don’t even know a single person here.
He pretends to be offended. You know one person now, he said.
That made me happy. Slowly, laying down roots.
I went to the Les Nubians show on Friday and they seated me next to a handsome, lightskinned guy who was also by himself. He introduced himself is David. This is the 3rd David I’ve met this week in Seattle. Are we doing that again? I would prefer not to. He tells me Les Nubians, like him, are from Camaroon. The show is good but he talks to me through most of it, telling me about Seattle, and how the dating scene is tough because people are kind of standoffish–they don’t really talk. He says that’s why I should give him my number at the end of the show, so we can keep in touch.
As I told Brian last night when I got home, this is a new era for me. He’d once had a talk with me about not giving out my number because what ends up happening is I regret it 89% of the time. Sometimes I regret it as I’m giving someone my number because I don’t really want to give it to them, but I feel put on the spot. But in Seattle, I haven’t given out my number a single time, which is great. It has felt important to me that I don’t.
During the show, I realize that it’s kind of important to me that people don’t know how to find me. That I’m here to explore incidence and accident, coincidence. How the paths of strangers cross and recross. I’m here for everything to funnel into my creativity, and I don’t want to invite people in unless I’m sure I want to invite people in. I like that I’m starting out socially so clean. I like that overall, people in Seattle are friendly but mind their own business.
This guy is nice, but he’s a little aggressive. So during the last song, I slip out to go to the bathroom, then leave, sitting in the upstairs lounge where there’s an ambience band free-styling deep, sultry jazz.
I don’t usually walk out on someone without saying goodbye, but while I enjoyed our conversation, I just didn’t want to open a door into my life. My life is not about being polite anymore. It’s about doing whatever I want and building my life experience the way I want and need it. And right now, I have a clean, open canvas. I plan to be very selective about what I choose to fill it with.
I’m back in LA now. I’ll pack up and drive up to my hometown on Wed, then head to a wedding in Michigan on Sat, returning Mon, then start driving to Portland on Tues, arriving in Seattle on Wed.
Two weeks to make this idea of living in Seattle a reality. But as I realized, I have no job, no relationship, no dependents right now. I’ll never be as free as I am now to pursue this, so in a way, I have to.
One thing I really liked about Seattle, spending time there this week, is how much music there is. On the streets, in the restaurants, all the music venues…between the mountains and the sea and the expanse of sky, plenty of nature and musical inspiration.
I also found out that the trains are active, so there’s a chance I’ll hear them at night. And the pub around the corner from me that I’ve chosen as my home away from home is lowkey and has free wifi (and the address adds up to 9 and they’ve got lions outside!), so I’ve been spending every day in there, writing. I went in there this morning, and found out that this place is also where the local Michigan alumni meet to watch the games on Sat mornings, so I’ll meet my fellow Wolverine Seattleites! This is incredible. Of all the places in the city, I’ve definitely found the spot I’m supposed to be in. I’m very excited to start this chapter of my life.
hahaha!
So this is the story. I’d spent the day getting to know the public transit system which people have been telling me is great. I spent the morning hanging out by the University of Washington, then talking to Rie about the book. Took the bus back to my area of town, had a very pleasant conversation with the female driver. The bus was empty except for me and her.
I got off, telling her it was wonderful to meet her. Felt really happy and content with my life. I’m walking towards my new home to officially sign my lease today. I’m about 2 blocks away when I round the corner and see this:
WTF!!!! I almost fell on my face.
So I head towards it, past my street to the dock, and it turns out, around the corner from where I’ll be living is where the cruise ships dock. This one is the Celebrity Infinity. So I will definitely be listening to boat horns from my place after all!
I couldn’t stop laughing. It’s like I’m surrounded by symbols that remind me of positive things. That X reminds me of inspiration and magic.
I headed back to my building and asked the leasing agent about it. I’d walked around the waterfront before, but usually further down towards the fish market; I’ve never seen any cruise ships. She told me the cruise ships leave out of the pier just behind us, usually on weekends, so if I ever want to take a cruise to Alaska, I can just walk across the street and hop on a boat.
“I just took a cruise to Alaska,” I told her. I couldn’t stop laughing and shaking my head.
Seattle. You…trickster. You better not be setting me up for a joke. It did give me a good laugh though. Definitely not what I expected to see when I rounded that corner.
Taking Seattle
Had a very inspirational, creative day yesterday. It was a beautiful day, almost LA weather, and yet, it felt like I was constantly being struck by lightning.
Went out to Macrina, this bakery that’s supposed to be good, had a sandwich and tea, sat outside reading. The food here is not as good as LA. Given that I will be living in a place where I won’t have the accoutrements to really cook the way I like to cook, I’m going to have to keep it simple. Which is good. I funnel a lot of my creativity into cooking. Now I’m being asked to funnel my creativity through words.
I checked into a new hotel, one closer to where I’ll be living so I can get a better feel for the neighborhood. Asked the guy at the front desk about the local jazz clubs. I don’t know much about jazz, but I’m trying to expand my experience of music, trying to feel more through music. He gave some recommendations, and I headed out to the Jazz Alley for a band called the Stanley Jordan Trio.
On the way there, I was crossing the street when I saw paramedics wheel a dead body wrapped in a red blanket out of an apartment building on a stretcher. It was unsettling.
I was seated right up next to the stage. I mean, my table touched the stage. It was kind of close for my tastes, but I still enjoyed it. The band took the stage. What is it about people, that they can seem both young and old to me? This guy looked like a 23 year old man in a 40 year-old man’s life.
His technique is called touch-tap guitar, and he would play with both hands close to each other on the fret in the most fluid, intellectual expression of every nuance of emotion. It was unbelievable. He was accompanied by a drummer and bassist, though I would have preferred if the drummer just stuck with high hat/bass drum complements instead of breaking out into incongruously jarring drum solos, and if the bassist didn’t spend the first song tuning his bass as he played. He was stressing me out.
The music made me laugh, it made me cry, it made me feel and taste colors and textures. At one point, Stanley Jordan got on the grand piano, playing guitar with one hand and piano with the other. Then he switched hands. The music was so electric and powerful–he turned emotional intensity into sounds the way I turn emotional energy into words. Everything was charged. Everything had meaning. It was communication beyond communication. It made me feel mute. I’ve always wanted to be musical…took piano lessons for 6 years as a kid (forgot it all), then taught myself to play guitar in 2003-2004, but it was always hard for me to use music to get out the emotional tones I felt, even though I desperately wanted to. I wish I could translate those powerful feelings through my hands into language, but the best language I have with my hands is on the keyboard into words. We were all blessed in different ways. But this is why I appreciate music. True music, expressing true emotions. Revealing true inner universes through language beyond language.
There was a table of Japanese businessmen and I watched them for a while. It’s hard to tell the inner emotional world of Japanese men. They’re very stoic outside. I wonder if because they don’t acknowledge that world, if that means that world does not exist. I was watching the man in the front who watched the musicians with his arms crossed, slightly nodding, like a proud statue, when I noticed behind him this head of frizzy wild hair lean into the frame of my vision, tilting, tilting, tilting until the guy almost fell out of his chair. It was one of the guys at his table trying to get a look at me. He kept watching me for the rest of the night. Careful, I thought. Japanese businessmen in their 50’s can be perverts!
After the show, I waited for a while for the waitress to come pick up my bill. The host came by and asked if I wanted to stay for the second set which would be free of charge. I told him I wanted to check out more of Seattle. He recommended 2nd street where there would be a lot of live music. I asked him which place in particular would be his first choice, and he told me which venue is his favorite, but ended by saying, “You should walk around and choose the one that feels right.”
I like that. I like the interactions I’ve been having here.
I finally took my bill and headed to the bar to see if the bartender could close out my bill. There was a dark-haired man I’d seen working on the set up eating at the bar, next to a guy in his 40’s who looked part Asian with a smooth round face and dark eyes. They were in conversation when I walked up. The guy eating stopped talking when he saw me, then asked me if I needed help. I asked him how I could go about closing my bill because I couldn’t find my waitress. He said he would get her. When that guy left, the Asian guy started laughing.
“I thought you were the bassist,” he said.
“You mistook me for a man!” I said.
“Well, we were just talking about the bassist and Fausto’s the sound guy, and when he stopped talking, I thought it was because the bassist had walked up behind me!”
The story is, they had been sitting at the bar, commenting about how the bassist had been off. About how he didn’t sound good, when all of a sudden, Fausto’s eyes go wide and he stops talking, so the Asian guy thought that the bassist had walked up behind them.
“So basically, you were talking some shit about this guy and thought he’d caught you guys,” I said.
“Exactly!” he laughed. “I’m so glad you weren’t him!”
I confessed that I was seated right under the guy, and he kept tuning his bass and it was stressing me out. I asked, “Shouldn’t he have done that before they began their set?”
He said they were in the club for 4 hours before the show. It should have been done.
The guy who’d been eating, Fausto, comes back with the waitress who takes my card. He introduces himself and when I hear his name, I ask, “Isn’t that like the devil? Faustus. He made a deal with the devil.”
“Yes,” he said, surprised. “Most people don’t know that.”
“Most people don’t read enough,” I said. But then I’m wondering, why would someone name their kid after a tragic literary figure who made a deal with the devil?
He asked me what my name is and I told him.
“Oh, like Julia Childs,” he said.
I pretend to be vexed.
“I had one goal in life, only one goal, and that’s to never be compared to an elderly English woman, and tonight, you have proven to me that I have failed at life.”
They all laughed.
“So, how long have you lived in Seattle?” he asked.
I calculate. “Two days,” I said.
“Oh! So you’re visiting.”
“I’m about to move here.”
“Are you moving here for a job?”
“I have to find one.”
“So you’re moving here, yet you don’t have a job yet!” He sounded incredulous.
“I’m not worried,” I said. “I’m highly employable.”
He started laughing, this high-pitched surprised laugh. “Highly employable…I’ve never heard anyone put it like that but I like it! I like your confidence.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“So what do you think of Seattle so far?”
“It’s been interesting. I’m ready for Seattle to impress me,” I said.
“I’ll get right on that,” I heard a dry, female voice say from behind me.
I turn and it’s the female bartender, late 30’s, tough life, flipping through a battered library book showing rows and rows of pictures of flowers. She hasn’t even looked up.
I start laughing. “Right after I finish my book,” I said, pretending to be her. She looks up and laughs.
The waitress brings me my bill and I’m signing it as I get a text. I’m checking my phone while calculating tip, when I hear Fausto say something.
“I’m sorry, can you say that again? I’m trying to pay my bill, write a text and have a conversation.” Then I start laughing. “See!! I’m multi-tasking! I told you, I’m highly employable!”
“Beautiful women get all the breaks.” He has a slight South-American accent so I need him to repeat that line a few times because I couldn’t understand the word “breaks.”
When I get it, I say, “Break?!?”
The bartender says, “That ain’t a break. That’s a skill.” Exactly my thought.
So I turn to her in a sarcastic sidebar and say, “What is it with these guys, they act like everything we have they gave to us when we earned everything we have?”
“Exactly!” she said, “They have no idea how strong we are.” She says it like we’re talking about children, and right away, I know I’ve got a new ally.
“You guys…,” I say as I turn to look at them. “You’re lucky we let you get away with giving us what you give us.” But I’m laughing as I say it, so they know it’s not mean-spirited. Just truthful.
The Asian guy starts laughing. He knows the girls are calling it like it is.
“My goodness,” Fausto says. “This one’s tough.”
I say that I’ve gotta run. I ask the bartender what her name is. “Amee,” she says, pronouncing it like “Ah-mee.”
“Amee, it’s nice to meet you,” I say as I shake her hand. “Good luck…,” I wave my finger in mock exasperation at the boys, “–dealing with this…”
I smile and wave goodbye at them. It’s all in good fun.
“Come back and visit us again,” I hear her say as I’m heading out the door.
I walk down to 2nd street and check out some places. Nothing strikes my fancy. I head up the street. This pasty white guy in a button-down green shirt follows me. “I’m going to follow you,” he said. “You look like you know where you’re going. Where are people tonight? It’s a ghost town.”
“They’ve gotta be somewhere,” I said.
“I hear the place to be is Pepo’s. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ve never even heard of it.”
I think he takes that as a blow-off, because he stops walking and behind me, I hear him mumble something to his friend. I see a sign with a female ninja. I remember I’ve been there before…that’s where I met some nice people on my last trip to Seattle, so I head in there.
While at the bar getting a drink, I see a big brutha in dreads. He’s got purple streaks in his hair. I’m standing next to him, and I realize that sometimes bartenders will get a girl’s drink order first, so I say to him, “Don’t worry, I know you were here first.” He ends up buying me a drink (I don’t usually let guys buy me drinks…don’t like obligations or complications), but he insists, so we talk. He’s kind of a funny guy…can’t tell if he’s gay or not.
I don’t remember how it came up, but while we were waiting for our drinks, I said, “I usually try to make the most out of life.”
He said, “I’m usually happy if I just get half of what I want.”
So when we get our drinks, I toast saying, “To the man who prefers his 2nd choice.”
He clinks then stops, “Wait, what do you mean, 2nd choice?”
“A lot of people will choose between two things. They’ll think, ‘I would really love that,’ but instead, go with the other thing, but then decide they’re happier with the 2nd choice than they would have been with the first thing they thought they would have really loved. But there’s nothing wrong with that as long as you’re happy.”
“I usually find a way to be happy with whatever life decides to give me,” he said.
“Well, if you can be happy getting half of what you want that life decides to give you, why not be happy getting all of what you decide to give yourself?”
He thinks, takes a sip of his beer.
“I don’t really like this beer.”
I laugh. “Well well well,” I say.
He looks me in the eye for a long time, sizing me up. Takes a sip.
“I’ve decided I love this beer.”
“Now you’re just trying to prove a point.”
“Yeah? How’s your drink? With your two olives and one lime?”
“Great,” I say.
He wants to know where I’m from and I won’t tell him, and he says, “What are you…like an alien from Alien World?” I nearly spit my drink out because I’ve recently decided to write about my life as an adult’s children book about how I’m an alien born to human parents. But luckily I was born to an Asian family. In Texas. So no one could tell the difference.
I start laughing and say, “Alien World. You make it sound like Mega Mart. Where you can buy your aliens in bulk!”
“Get your alien toilet paper, on sale, 36-ply!” he said.
I laugh. I like people who can improv silliness.
“No seriously, where are you from?” he asked.
“Everywhere. And nowhere.”
He tries to guess my ethnicity, but can’t. All he knows is that I’m not from Seattle. I think it’s funny how people can’t guess my ethnicity. Or my mother’s. We’re both like that. We are both so unique and good at finding common ground with so many people, that we seem familiar to people, yet so hard to categorize. Most people think I’m mixed. Mixed of what? They can never say. But I’m full-blooded Chinese.
He says that he doesn’t even know my name. He says, “You’re like a ghost. You come in, you obviously have substance.” He pokes me in the shoulder. “You’re obviously real. But when you leave, you’ll disappear and I’ll have no idea what the hell I was even talking to. Do you like living like that? Like a ghost? Don’t you find it so empty?”
“Trust me,” I said. “I’m very real for a lot of people.”
“Hmmm,” he said. “I don’t believe that.”
I don’t say anything.
“Would you say you have wisdom?”
I laugh. “We’ve been talking for the last half hour. Does that really need to be asked?”
“What! Most people will think about it, then say, ‘Not really.'”
“What do you think?” I ask him.
“Yeah, you probably do. You’re just being mysterious.”
“Okay,” I say. “Ask me one question. I’m one of the most honest people you’ll ever meet. I have to run, but ask me any question and I’ll answer as truthfully as I can.”
He thinks, and thinks, and thinks. He thinks and thinks and thinks. Meanwhile, I’m watching two well-dressed guys, one of them slender and darkly handsome, really artistic looking in a lavender tie, the other a blonde guy hitting on a girl who is not so deep. Yet I notice, the two guys are matching…the artistic guy’s lavender tie matches the other guy’s shirt. I start laughing.
“You act like you’re being tickled,” Dreads says. “What’s so funny?” I point out the two guys and ask, “Do you think those two stepped out of the door today intending to match?” It is a little gay. He laughs, too.
Finally, he says he’s got his question. I’m listening. What could it be? The meaning of life? What is his purpose? What is God? I’m thinking, this guy has one question to ask someone who sweeps in like a ghost claiming wisdom, and he’s been thinking about it for the better part of the last few minutes, so it will be a good one. He asks:
“How many islands make up Hawaii?”
WHUT.
“I don’t know…5?” I say.
“Wow, that’s right,” he said. But I looked it up later. Hawaii is made up of 132 islands, with 8 of them being the recognized ones. So the correct answer should be either 132 or 8. Yet he took 5 for the answer.
I shake his hand and give him a hug.
“Have a great night,” I said, leaving without looking back.
I walk by Amber which is the only other place I went the last time I was in Seattle. I know they serve food late, and I haven’t eaten yet, so I stop in. There’s an acoustic band playing. The guy is good, doing a mix of covers and his own songs, and I like that his voice has soul. If he does Amos Lee, I was going to be very happy.
So I sit at a bar and order. This good looking brutha comes up and orders a Bombay Sapphire on the rocks. I know he’s going to try to talk to me because he’s been looking at me for a while from across the room.
“What are you drinking?,” he asks.
“Bombay Sapphire and tonic,” I said.
“Really? We’re both Sapphire drinkers.”
We talk and he wants to know where my accent’s from. I’ve been told I’m someone who’s a bit peculiar in that I don’t have an accent. As someone (from my first trip to Seattle years ago in fact) once put it, I talk like a news anchor…completely devoid of accent.
I ask him to guess and I’ll tell him if he’s right. So he’s guessing. Not from Washington, he says, and I agree. He says he wants to say California but he’s not sure.
I put on an English accent. “Are you sure I’m not from England?”
“Definitely not,” he said.
Then he says he’s got it.
“You’re from Alabama.”
I look at him like he’s joking. “Are you serious?”
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
wtf? The deep South?
“Sure,” I said.
He says he’s gotta go but he wants my number. I apologize. “I don’t give out my number.”
“Give it to me,” he said. “I want to see you again.”
“Then if it’s meant to be, you’ll see me again,” I said.
“That’s not fair. Just give me your number.”
“You’ve got to believe in the natural order of the world. It’s the way life works.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Here, I said. I open up my Notes application on my phone. This is where I store all of my observations when I’m out and about. I wrote. “Find Wall-eh. He owes me a drink because he doesn’t believe in magic.” Save it.
He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re amazing,” he says. “I’ll look for you again.”
The last person I met was a guy spitting game in front of people he worked with. He’s what in LA we call, a “douchebag.” He was holding court at the end of the bar and asked if I wanted to join their conversation. He was using the counter like he was mapping out a war offensive. I asked one of the guys he was with what the conversation was about.
“He’s telling us how his game works to get women,” he said.
“You talk to them like human beings,” I said. “That’s it. It’s that simple.”
So this dude who’s holding court comes over and tries to spit game and I’m kind of messing with him, but with a big smile on my face. He’s joking with me, and I’m joking back, but he can’t catch me.
The funny thing is, the more frustrated he gets, the more he starts talking like a sassy black woman. There are 3 Asian girls standing next to me. They’re looking a little awkward and vulnerable, bar chicks. These are the helpless gazelles who get eaten by predatory bar guys. So I suddenly turn to them and ask them, “Have you ever heard of a guy who thinks ‘game’ is talking like a sassy black girl from the South?” Then I do an impression of him as a black woman, “Giiiiiiiirl, why you wanna front on me like that? I know you wanna get a piece of this!” I do it complete with the finger wag and the neck bump. I know black chicks. Somewhere in me, I’ve either got a sassy black chick, or a sassy gay man…I haven’t figured it out yet. There’s actually a very fine line between the two.
But the girls start laughing and they ask me, “Who???” and I say, “This dude right next to me,” and they look and start laughing harder. He walks into their circle and tries to plead his case but now he’s really sounding like a caricature of a black woman and they’re laughing at him. So I say to them, “All they have to do is act like normal human beings and talk to us like a human being. Why is it so hard for them to understand?” And the girls are laughing and agreeing, saying, “Seriously.”
“Don’t reward the guys who don’t respect you or themselves enough to talk to you like a human being,” I said, and they all nod.
To the power of the pussy. Own it. Don’t let guys be idiots about it. For how big their mouths are, half the time they don’t know what they’re doing. We women have to respect ourselves not to accept bullshit when there are guys out there who will treat us as intelligent equals.
The guy’s friends are laughing about this whole thing. When I look over, they all high five me, like this is the funniest thing they’ve ever seen. The first guy who had told me what this dude was talking about leaned over and whispered, “He’s actually one of my customers. But it’s good that you’re calling him out.”
He keeps trying to plead his case to the girls next to me who don’t take him seriously and so he says to me, “You really busted my balls,” and rounds up his gang and takes off. The rest of his boys turn and wave goodbye, big smiles.
Seattle. My God. Can you handle me. I’m a really nice person. But I’m gonna be honest, call things as I see them, especially when I see bullshit.
I’m psyched about tonight. Got tickets to Les Nubians!
I hadn’t listened to them in years and last week, got really into them again. Happened to be looking through the Seattle Weekly and saw a little ad that they’re going to be playing downtown. The Triple Door. Looks like a club with an intimate setting. I’m so excited.
Music and people are my biggest inspirations.
9 needs 11 to build 22.
I’ve been saying that for a long time.
I was struck by a bolt of inspiration last night. The person I’m here to find is the illustrator I’ve been searching for.
Talked to Rie today. We haven’t collaborated since Cojones. It would be nice to work on something together again, have our names on the same creation. There is one more person in the triangle, and we are ready to make art.
I’ve learned that 11’s are about ideas. 9 sits on the summit of humanity, able to explain to those who have questions what they see, trying to light the way for others, but 11’s give 9’s ideas for transcendence to communicate to the people.
How did I never realize until now that Rie is an 11. I think it needed to be hidden from my consciousness until now. I remember the birthdays of almost everyone I’ve met in my life…sometimes I can’t remember names but I usually remember birthdays. Yet, despite being my best friend and trusted confidante, I have always had trouble remembering the exact numbers in her birthdate.
Have faith. Something is coming through, and it’s creative and exciting.
Grow on this to make you life seem great
Grow on this to take control of your fate
Grow on this until you finally understand
Grew and grew and now the boy’s a new man
So sit beside the shoreline and think about your woes
Read the whips and waves, identify your foes
Then realize in the sense of this existence
There’s great resistance to the minds that mix this
Yes I’ve made things known but then again I’m on the downlow,
That’s obvious because I’m at the show
That I rule the three planes of reality:
-Universally, mystically, conceptually-
Then in due time, you may find
That I’m living in the world of my design
And I give you one to grow on.
-UMC’s
I’m going to be co-blogging about my second favorite basketball team, the Phoenix Suns, with my friend, Jason. Check it out! I think we have it in us to be the Asian Bill Simmons.
inglourious basterds. see it. it’s fun.
Now Listening to:
Bonobo – Live Sessions
Now Reading:
The Garden of Last Days (Andre Dubus)
The Happiness Hypothesis (Jonathan Haidt)
Today I Will:
1. Apply for 15+ jobs
2. Sign up for Gotham writing workshop
3. Drop by Academy of Arts for Fall class schedule
4. Look for furniture
5. Review progress on book and be positive about it
I’m in Seattle! Holy cow, it’s real! I’m freaking out. Excited but freaking out as well. I can’t believe I’m really doing this.
I had to get up at 5am this morning to catch my flight. It was brutal but ever since I decided I was going to try out Seattle, my sleep regulated…started going to bed at 1am, getting up around 8:30. Wasn’t hard at all. Felt the way it did when I was working. In so many ways, it naturally feels like I’m going into another phase of my life.
I had a session with my basketball coach yesterday and he’s sad about me leaving. I really like the guy. I told him one day, he’s going to be my bodyguard. He’s like the big brother I never had but always wanted. Men always get offended when they hear the word “brother” or “friend” thrown around. Sometimes women use it as a boundary setting. But sometimes, it’s the highest regard. For me to consider someone a friend or family is my most valued regard. I’m friendly with most people, but I let in very few.
He invited me to watch his game that night, so I headed out to watch him play. Met a lot of cool people. Isn’t that just the way it works? I can be bored out of my mind for the majority of my time in LA, then as I’m about to leave, I meet all kinds of really cool people. At least it gives me incentive to make it back.
I slept through the entire flight, and went straight to the apt I was looking at. The studio was the size of a large elevator. There was no way I could live there. The one bedroom was only slightly better. The people in the office were also kind of dumb. I didn’t have a good feeling. I decided to walk around, and as I did, saw a building that was really close to the water. I headed towards it and saw a man carrying a couple of coffees heading inside. I asked him if he lived there and he said his daughter does. I asked him about the building, and he said that his daughter really enjoyed living there and that she had looked around at lots of places and chose this one. I loved that. I love recommendations from people who do research, because rather than doing extensive research, I tend to accept what I get, a trait that must be mitigated by surrounding myself with people who enjoy researching things and giving out opinions. So I checked it out, and the leasing agent was really cool. She showed me a couple of places, but when she showed me this one studio with a partial view of the water, I was sold. I was told getting a water view in Belltown would be difficult without spending a lot of money, but I really hoped for a balcony where I could at least see the water. Basically, my criteria was–a nice studio apartment in a safe neighborhood in Belltown within walking distance to Pike’s Place, the waterfront and restaurants/nightlife, with a balcony facing west overlooking the water. Didn’t expect to find everything (that last wish for the balcony facing west was more wishful thinking). Yet, that’s exactly what I found. It’s incredible. Write the things you want down and be specific. I can’t stress that more to people.
So even better, I’m across the street from the Seattle Academy of Art, so I can probably take photography and Photoshop classes at night. I’m around the corner from the Sculpture Garden (inspiring place to stroll and look out at the water) which is right between the water and the train tracks (I was asking around if the trains still run but no one was sure), and a block behind the pier where the big freighters pass. I’ll probably spend time sleeping with the balcony door open, especially because I like being lulled to sleep by the sound of rain. If I can hear boat horns and/or train whistles at night, I will be in heaven. I will be in absolute heaven.
I honestly can’t believe this. I couldn’t have imagined anything better. Now…if I can do the same with manifesting the job I need, so I can generate the finances I desire, so I can have the home bases I want. I’m so inspired right now.
Outside of that, everything is really falling into place. I’ve asked almost everyone I’ve met how they got their job, and the word seems to be that the job market in Seattle is very good despite the economy. This is good news. Got a call today from someone about a independent contractor job, which is something I could potentially start with and do alongside writing and working full-time. We’ll see…I have a feeling where I’m supposed to be will just “feel” right. I may or may not enjoy it, but it will be where I’m supposed to be to get where I’m going. I was thinking today, that if I hadn’t been at that first apartment building, I wouldn’t have walked down that street and seen the other building. And the apartment I got, had actually been leased yesterday, but it became open just this morning because that prospective tenant’s credit didn’t come through. Right time, right place.
My God, it’s happening. This is really happening. The universe is giving me every opportunity to succeed. Now it’s up to me to put my life on my shoulders and live up to my word.
saturday night – the other room
spent the earlier part of the evening hanging out with missed connections guy, and a couple of girls he introduced as his “friends,” though he’s clearly sleeping with one of them. i know this because her energy spiked when i showed up, she made a big show of touching his leg whenever she laughed, she kept lighting matches to get attention, and she bumped me as she walked past me. and he seemed a little bit whipped in her presence. she reminded me of this girl . i disarmed the situation in a similar way. just refused to acknowledge any tension, and was very careful about sending any energy towards the guy that would be construed as intent. she left for the night to try to get her roommate to come out, and things were more relaxed after that. i gave him and his friend one of my specialty brownies to split. i’m like the robin hood of brownies. i usually give them to people with spiritual questions–i’ll tell them to find a 5 hour window in a comfortable place, eat the brownie, listen to music they like, and think about questions they have. write stuff down.
or if possible, i like to spend that time with them, talk to them. a couple of hours with me is sometimes better than years of therapy. it’s tough when you look for all the things that are wrong with you and your life. let’s talk about where you’re going and what you want, then figure out what it is you’re holding on to that’s preventing that.
so an hour later, they’re both very happy. missed connections guy (aka beau) had been having trouble looking me in the eye (but he would watch me when i’m not looking, so to make him more comfortable, i would talk more to the other girl). but now he was more comfortable and i was able to talk to him.
his friend told me what she was experiencing was incredible. she felt very happy and positive. peaceful. she said i’m very talented.
i thank her with my entire heart. it means a lot to me when i can give people this kind of experience. to tell me that what i gave them made them feel happy and gave them positive eyes to see and feel the world…that is the highest compliment.
it renewed my desire to become a shaman. the laws would have to change, but regardless, i’m telling you i could help a lot of people. that’s really what i want to do most. give people positive experiences, so no matter where their life goes, they’ve had it. they know it. they’ve felt it. so they’ll be able to recognize or create these experiences or feelings in the future, or in other areas of their lives. once you’ve experienced peace, then you’ll know where to aim.
they were happy as they were leaving, great hugs all around. his friend leaned over and whispered that she was there the night he and i met and talked. she told me beau had been really happy about meeting me.
that was nice to hear. some kind of consolation.
i guess his function had been to help commit an important night to memory, lead me somewhere else. now having spent more time getting to know him, while he’s very funny and very pleasant to look at, his glow feels artificial. fluorescent. lacking heat.
i was happy. the music was good, and i met some brazilian girls and helped them take a picture. they hung out with me for the rest of the night. i started texting rie. ever since she had seigo, she doesn’t really go out anymore, but i sometimes like to text her when i’m out and about people watching, because it makes me feel like she’s there in spirit. and for her to feel a part of the scene.
rie:
we may be moving early as nov.
me:
holy shit! to where?
rie:
berkeley or albany. he’ll probaby get offers in concord, san pablo, vallejo & walnet creek
me:
oh sweet. i so welcome you closer to the bay area where you can be creative. i’m making my way there. just have to accomplish some things first
[years ago when she was living in new york and i was in los angeles, i realized that in my lifetime, i might only see her 5-6 more times. that made me so incredibly sad. i dreamed of a world where she lived in california. i could see her being really happy in the bay area.]
rie:
who would have thought we’d both end up in northern california?
me:
i did! i willed you there!
rie:
it worked!
me:
i know! i just couldn’t imagine growing old without you.
*****
so i’m texting with rie, and i’m laughing and smiling at my phone because i’m so happy. i love this girl. she’s the sister i never had.
this guy who’d been standing by me in a blazer and a shoulder-length triangle of hair (it looked like he’d had it permed), asks me why i’m in a bar, texting.
i tell him that i’m texting my best friend who can’t come out because she has a baby.
“you’re a really nice friend,” he said.
“she’s like a sister,” i said.
i go back to looking at my phone and he taps me on the shoulder.
“so tell me what you think of this,” he said. “i just tried to talk to this girl, and she told me she was married. basically, i saw this girl and it’s like…have you ever met someone and you just knew…something about them, you just had to talk to them?”
“uh…yes. i believe i’m familiar with that kind of experience.”
“well, i go up to her, like…my god, she blew my mind. and i’m trying to talk to her, but she tells me she’s married.”
“hmmm…,” i said. “maybe it just means you’re looking for a girl like her, but she just wasn’t the one.”
“but she wasn’t married! she lied just because she was blowing me off.”
“well, fuck her, then. she’s dishonest. why are you still talking about her? go find someone better.”
“what?”
“why are you still wasting time and your thoughts talking about her when there are lots of other available women in this room you could be talking to?”
“what?”
“find someone who is available instead of dwelling on someone who’s not.”
“my point is, why can’t i talk to you without you being like her?”
“what? how am i like her? i’m giving you good advice here.”
“i know a lot about psychology.”
“i know psychology.”
“do you have a doctorate in it?”
“undergrad work but i know psychology.”
“well i have a doctorate.”
“big fucking deal.”
[he either didn’t hear that or chose to ignore it]
“i have a doctorate in psychology, so i know people, and i’m saying women don’t make any sense. like right now. i’m trying to have a civil conversation, but one of us is being shitty.”
[what??]
“are you saying i’m being shitty? i’m sitting here, taking the time to give you good advice, with more honesty than you’ll get from anyone else in this fucking room, and you can’t even value it. fuck off,” i say, casually dismissive.
i turn around and go back to my conversation with rie. he taps me on my shoulder trying to get my attention, but i ignore it.
he leans almost over me.
“okay, i’m sorry. we’re both just here to have a good time, and i don’t want to be remembered as part of a bad experience.”
“it’s fine,” i say, indifferent and distracted, because rie is telling me about the gumbo she’s making.
“no really, i don’t want you to be mad at me.”
[good god, ignorant men can be such babies. what makes him think i care enough to put energy into being mad?]
i turn around and grab his hand and give him that black guy shake + one-arm hug.
“i’m a nice person and don’t hold grudges,” i say. “so we’re cool. but i don’t have time for bullshit.”
go back to msging rie and ignoring him.
less than a mi
nute later, he and his friend move to the other side of the room.
got a free beer from the bartender.
much love.
so you’re leaving just to come home, he said.
something like that, i said.
every beginning is born of an ending. every homecoming requires departure.
find what was lost, even if you don’t understand what it is yet.
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