the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
dreams of magic and strange lands ~ may 9, 2001 - 12:29 a.m. it's hot up here, in pat's little office nook, up at the top of the dome... we're having something like a heatwave at the moment... only by norcal standards, of course... highs in the low 90's. I love it, I do. truly hot weather is one of the few things I miss about the midwest. but at the moment it's got me feeling sleepy and sluggish... I did another photo shoot tonight, that makes four in the past three weeks. I feel like I'm getting good at it. I'm getting a handle on how it works, getting a feel for the kind of photographers I like working with. creative types are best, ones who want to capture my spirit and personality on film along with my naked body. I set boundaries up front: this is business, I want no sexual interaction with you. I'll only work with photographers who will take me as is, nothing shaved, all-natural. I've learned that what I do is considered to be more in the realm of erotic photography than pornography, in the business. I have fun with it, I explore my exhibitionist side, I flaunt, I revel. I've decided it beats the hell out of temp work. I just wish I could tell my mother about it, so she could stop worrying about what I'm living off of. but yes, there are some places that me and mom just don't go. I thought about my mother for a moment at moontribe... a gorgeous moment, with the moon big and bright, the sun gathering its energy to rise over all of us, dancing by the ocean's edge... I wondered if my mother has ever known such beauty, such a sense of connectedness to her fellow humans and to mama earth underfoot. I hope she has, for her sake. I wish I could share with her all that is truly magic in my life. magic, so true, so real, so precious. sometimes so much that my body can't even contain it. but my mother sees the world with her eyes and I see it with mine, and so much gets lost in the translation. my mother's not even comfortable hugging people. she'd be lost in the world of open, easy love, the sharing of joy, in which I dwell. maybe in another lifetime, another world, she'll find it. I hope so. I love my mom a lot. so moontribe was gorgeous, and, as always, it was the people. all different kinds and shapes and flavors of people, all coming together to dance in the moonlight, to dance the sun into the sky, to dance through the night and well into morning. ever was there, and he and I would spin off in our own directions and then come back together, over and over throughout the night. mad love with lots of breathing room. I do adore that boy. he's working at resolving things with the people at mt. madonnna so that he can stay. I hope. I hope. and I do know that I'll be okay, even if he does go away... but I'd love to have him near me for a bit longer, anyway. there is such magic in our love for one another. I met brentley at moontribe too, a brother who recently did some jail time. one morning when ever and I were living in the tent, he wrote brentley a letter, and asked if I would write him a poem... so I did, the first time ever I've written a poem for someone I didn't know. and it was lovely, really-- I was proud of that little poem. so meeting brentley was like finding my way to the heart of a creation-- OH, so you're brentley! I liked brentley, he had good energy. I hope he liked the poem. I know he liked me... but I only had eyes for ever. moony girl. ever kept jumping in the ocean all night as part of the cure for his poison oak. around sunrise, I decided to join him, and MY GOD it was cold... not even the kind of cold you get used to. the kind of cold that makes you shriek and holler until you get out. people loved us for it, and a couple followed us in. we all sat and shivered around a fire afterwards while we slowly got the feeling back in our limbs. morning was long and lazy and drenched in sunshine. people who'd been dancing all night began to wind down and crash out, and people who'd crashed out in the night began to wake up and dance. friends who'd missed each other in the darkness met by daylight and traded hugs and blessings. I exchanged wicked grins with the tripper who'd sat next to me at the fire at my first moontribe, who'd turned to me in the night and said I can hear your thoughts. I said I know... pretty cool, huh? and then we both just laughed and laughed... we are a gorgeous, ragged family, and moontribe is the dream we share, like the warmth of the fires we circle in the night, the easy hugs and smiles we trade when we meet each other on the street. it's a dream whose beauty makes you ache upon waking, and yet stays with you, like a current of magic running just below the surface of the day. a sweet memory that makes you smile while you're waiting in line for something or filling your gas tank. exquisite magic unknown in my mother's world. which is why I'm living in mine.
(((rings))) |