live, from the basement

so, my eyes are crossed from exhaustion, my feet hurt and i desperately need to go to sleep,
but
i just wanted to write out my dream from last night because dreams about thom yorke always seem to be so much more than simply a dream about one of my favorite artists.

he was in my basement and he had a space for listening to music and recording down there.
i went downstairs to see him and we spoke of record players and my urgent need to purchase one. in the dream he was saying the good ones i should be looking for start at around $1,000. then he pulled out a record of one of his newer songs {in real life i currently have a 12 inch vinyl en route to me of two of radiohead's new singles} and we were considering listening to it on his sound system down stairs. it was a casual interaction. he was in my basement, he made music there and was generous with his time. no big deal.

something called me upstairs and my middle sister was there and in that sudden way of dreams we were in a fight. about what, who knows, but i remember the feeling of the door to the basement being open and the shame i felt that perhaps he heard us and knew i was....{here words fail my drooping mind}....petty? immature? unworthy? something lacking somehow.

and that's where the dream ended.

again, i note that he keeps on progressively getting closer to me each time i dream of him.
and again, i note that his presence has less to do with the platonic crush i have on him and is rather connected to my desire to make work as pure and beautiful as what he has achieved.



currently listening to: reruns of ode to joy in it's full symphonic glory replaying itself in my head. more on the symphony and my evening with my dad later.

here we are.

so this is it.

my dad is here and this is what i've witnessed:

he feels shorter
there's more grey in his hair
he's starting to look over sixty {which is still good because he's 64}
{the first night} i noticed he talked a lot. a little rambly. and despite the understandable excuse of jet lag, i also realized he was probably covering up a lot of silence with his words. and then i started wondering about what scared him in the silences. probably a lot.
i also noticed some of his stories were about giving him worth and i realized he still is unsure we'll see it on our own.
i've noticed he makes a gentle and purposeful effort to be tuned in to each of us kids. to sit with us and talk and listen.
he wants us all to be happy.
he sits with me to make sure i'm not alone.
he has read a good deal of my blog which he calls "blog emails" since they are emailed to my mom and then she forwards them on to him. he's still a little confused by computers.
he's very curious about radiohead, asked to listen and after i played cymbal rush and the disc changed said: keep it on that radiohead music.
he asks when he thinks i'm upset.
he's taking me to the symphony tomorrow night. beethoven's 9th.
he doesn't let me apologize for taking time to myself which could otherwise be spent with the family and him.
he is more open and accessible than i have ever witnessed in 27 years of knowing him
and in turn i am more open and accessible to him.
he understands.
and not only does he understand, but he's capable of communicating that he understands.

so here we are and i find i have more than i would ever have asked for.

between seneca & spring

he was really sly about it--this appearance of casual movement--as he shifted from his part of the sidewalk to mine.

even so, it warned me to take a step to the right which wasn't enough as soon as he adjusted another half step toward me.

without looking at him i yielded the sidewalk entirely only to be rewarded with his arm slapped across my chest as he passed.

i pivoted in anger, fierce words swearing silently in my head and violent thoughts suggesting themselves to my fists,
and i watched in frozen indecision as he kept walking purposefully forward as though he were heading to the bank to catch it before it closed.

a few blocks later i stopped at stumptown for a suddenly absolutely necessary soy hot chocolate and mighty o donut. out of the remnants of shock i relayed the story to the barista and his friend and was given a far more satisfying rewarded of much sympathy, several gentle jokes and a free hot chocolate and donut.

faith is restored and i left feeling the world wasn't a complete pit of blackness, but there is part of me that still wants to go back and pummel the man.

a taste of the suns

it's been a long time since i've posted from the sun/sky exchange between my ten15am friends, sahra and cam but even though their presence has been silent here, they've been constant despite all the business and weight of their personal lives.

{by the way, the ten15am.com project got put on hiatus, but the final posting was a self portrait by all of us regulars--including sahra and cam--which you can see here}

so, here is a sampling of a few of the past month or two's {or five's} worth of images shared between the three of us:

cam:

sahra:

me: