a picture I took of the thing that stops the train at the end of a train track reminded me of Sterling Ruby sculpture. How he put a piece of wood as if propping it up, he explained, because it was too phallic. He wrote the title on the piece of wood. Street drug name titles, he said, graffiti-like, which reminds me of my fascination right now with free signs on the side of the road. How crude yet composed they are. How stripes and lines are a part of everyday life. Necessity and decoration. In street yellow lines, power lines, curtains, polo shirts, neck ties…listening to a yoga book on tape about the continuous line of a diety’s limbs if you want to imagine it, in a parable of sorts, as you stretch your psoas muscle by reaching your arm above your head one leg stretched out one leg bent and held etc. How things connect everyday. Something someone said or did and something you thought or read and how you don’t have time to record it all. How someone you live with falls asleep on the couch snoring and you don’t like that, just go to bed first. Then you just let things pass because there’s nothing you can do. And some other time it will float in. Maybe at the opportune time you’ll be too late to attend and later reports reinforce that it wasn’t meant to be and let’s hope that the Universe keeps looking out for you. She with the same name as the other one who wants the same man. If she only knew. I don’t know. And your favorite person in the world writes you letters and must be always thinking the same things as you at the same time. A castle on top of White Face Mountain she drew me meanwhile I find a little white Pagoda castle in a stream. How magical. In the breezy park yesterday after an Apothecary shop or some word that begins with A. “angel toning” on their sign and I say that cloud is not moving but I see there’s more cloud behind it in dimensions. That’s where the angels are in the gym working out. Angel toning. And also looking up, the shapes of the clouds match the shapes of the leafy trees. This is the second Birch or beech tree we’ve sat in front of but I don’t say it because you’ve already made me make another mental note that you don’t care because you say you won’t eat the raspberry-like berries that grow naturally along paths. As if that’s crazy like rock collections. When I was a kid we picked the berries, put sugar and milk on them. I have that crying feeling with you yesterday but I don’t cry. Instead I go put my face on a pillow and breath. It was a physical reaction not an emotion. Next day in yoga it is mentioned the throat is the channel/pathway between the heart and the mind. It is where the breath sounds. Ujahyi. And does speaking block the pathway or express and tell? And ya know, that feeling you get in your throat when you’re going to cry? It wasn’t like that this time. My friend comes to visit me and begins to tell me something I like and that he likes and I’m so grateful for this fact. There’s a few people that understand such small big things like sumac and hills and the scent of everything with one thing, the rain but it’s not the rain that smells. Back to that thing at the end of tracks and someone is still snoring and that bothers me so damn much. I could build that thing at the end of the track and make it like a box and put collected things in it. Like a styrofoam coffee cup an oyster shell from oyster picnic out there on the tracks. There is someone who would understand that, whose shadow went across that thing at the end of the tracks on top of which sat a discarded drive-through coffee cup. And whose shadow also went across the mill stone and he doesn’t know it because I didn’t tell him. And also how a giant painting of fruit connects tres magnifiques for me. One day I might not remember what that means. And he says he has trouble remembering things but I don’t know what he’s not remembering.
This is where it gets really good. When there’s muscle memory. And just after the end of the pose. And oh now you smell that someone you live with used that bath wash you hate so much and in yoga class someone had a similar perfume Monday night and see how it all comes together things are the same and how just as life seems to be mundane you realize it’s full of insignifiigant but none the less connections just like you read in that yoga book about crow shit being the same as something pleasant. All from God. All necessary or of the same signifigance so does it matter which friend it comes from. When life gives you lemons… Another booking read about yoga said to just sit and appreciate where you’re at. Just waiting in traffic you look up and see the clouds and the power lines and the trees and the sunlight running down the line, or shining through the trees or behind a cloud where the angel gym is. And emptiness, meditation, non attachment, body image, Monopolys, my companies been sold. I mean where I work. And another friend is so sweet, she says she misses me and she’s trying to sell her small business. And the frogs are loud outside my window the pond used to have more water now it’s over taken by cattails. Your friend, he brings you an article on what that type of pond is. Be so grateful for friends like this. The best friends have time. They’re available. And your lover did that for about a week, sending you an article about your disease. Asking your advice on some small thing. Telling you some little embarassment they had in that day. Reading self help Mr Unavailable, “emotionally Unavailable” and reading so many things but still not wanting to give in and let go. But this is I guess the journaling recommended in Vein of Gold and this stream is what happens when I’m very tired and I don’t have enough time at home before returning to work tomorrow and I don’t feel like taking my medicine. Back to the mundane. I hope I’m not dizzy tomorrow. I smell someone I live with smoking a goddamn cigarette. I told my friend it smells like tuna sometimes and coffee smells like a cigarette in the morning when I get woken up at 5am by the smell of it I don’t drink coffee, the people I live with do and that same person I complained to about the smells doesn’t know what cattails are as I sat in front of my pond on the phone with him and so I said well what did you think they were called and he didn’t know. But your other friends knows the weeds and birds, ya know, he brought you an article.
And yeah, back to that thing at the end of the track, I’m going to put stuff in. I have had a rock collection since I was a kid. You make a face like I’m silly crazy. So I ask you if you have a collection Uh, yeah. Something you can get in a souvenir shop or restaurant from places you’ve been. I don’t know what the rocks are called that i pick up. And I don’t want rocks from around the world. I want indigenous things. That one friend who brings you articles, he appreciates indigenous things. Like the sumac. Maybe it’s an invasive and only seems indigenous to me since childhood I remember it. Just like the wineberries my other friend won’t pick. In this stream of typing, I’ve been referring to myself and then not and saying you as in third person I guess. Sometimes I think in French but its the French of my memory not of fact but I don’t care I get the words wrong it’s mine. My poetry my experience. And also what is the reality. Another thing from a yoga book that I share with my friend. Sumac is the reality. But his hands around my face. A long deep hug I give. What is the reality. How my lover is just in the meantime for me but what about him? When you tell an older family member,”When I die…” And they say ” I’ll be..” and the team you they realize they are alwsys assuming they will outlive you but not because of you but because they don’t imagine they are going to die that are going to live forever. And you need to wrote your favorite person a letter and he tells you, your hands over the article he brought you on the table that he sent you a letter and to expect it in the mail. Another article. And your lovet sent you are card once and flowers for your birthday then nothing for Valentine’s day but he probably doesn’t remember and you hold on to everything. Put it in that thing you are going to build that islike the thing at the end of the train tracks. Third person. Tres magnifiques is back but it’s really c’est magnifiques that is correct. Return to the giant painting of fruit and buy some curry. You’re friend at work says you’re wearinSaffron today. Not tumeric. But the same color, really. The reality. You’re done typing and it’s 11:11. It’s always 11:11 when you think of him or is it when he ends up texting you or is it just that you think of him all the time and he texts you alot even though you think you don’t get enough from him
And two of them lovingly put my face in their hands and with both of them I’ve stopped at Churches.