Dancing by candelight

Summer sunshine just around the corner and the earth moving in waves of up and more up. So many tasks each attached to a million more like an avalanche each time. Simple beats push me through another night of managing my small ....miniscule ...even a spec of a business. Handwriting the hang tags with descriptions in twenty words or less of my time energy and work. Watching the fireplace warmth turn to ash, candles burn to empty wicks.
Wiping plants, organizing fabrics, setting up a window display for the world. Listening to the sounds of life, the silence of my own, and decorating things in a way I see fit. Someday when these days are far behind, I wonder what will I think then?
The beinging of another month.....Summer looming around the corner. Talk of grass trees and long dresses. Hiding under that weeping willow tree next to the lake.

Will I fall in love again there....do you ever fall out of love with places, memories or ideals. Do they just stay there, as they were waiting for you to check in on them from time to time. As the clouds coast over head and I make my way into the world each day wishing I could crank the hourhand back each minute. If only to stand against the flow to watch a moment I will never get back slip away.

Strands of ribbion, strips of silk, fabric dye finger tips, splashes of skin, dark eyes and red lipstick. We all walk beside some version of what should be.
So I dance in my studio/front room to long lost 90's rave music and try to not loose myself in greed envy disgust and lonliness. Focus on the grain of the fabrics, the sunbeams through the dust and the curl of long hair on the subway in the morning.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64liF2VuLxI

So pure and untrue.....

The music Friday makes.

This video and musical styling are absolutely amazing. The perfect sound of a Friday night.

Hating it. ..

Standing on the corner watching the loud abnoxious trucks roar by inches from my face, sitting alone on the cold cement round "seating area" aloted to me by the corporate gods that be inches from the constant humm of the E trade building, watching as a bum pantamimes at me for money. Passing the firestone tire center only to realize they have painted over the colorful murals of dancers with a drab grey monotone color. If they are hoping to pull in more business with that I can definately say that was the ONLY thing that made that place decernable from the other drab disgusting buildings on the block.

Passing by pile after pile of human feces on the street, and wondering why it is that every homeless person on the face of the planet seems to shit on San Francisco and still the city refuses to have public restrooms. Yeah people are going to do drugs in them....people do drugs every fucking where... what really is the difference. Is a public rest room not a more suitable place for the shit to be? Or maybe the populus of SF keeps voting no on the public restroom issue because they like human shit covered shoes and feces smeared streets, walls, and alleyways.

To me ...it all screams, cold heartless and uninteresting. I know I know... try and find the positive in it. Look for the bright side....and on and on. Ive been trying and I can honestly say...it takes a lot San Francisco. Alot of energy to go out everyday and attempt to exchange a smile or a laugh you really are not the most friendly place. While I want to talk up your many secret charms...these days those charms are becoming so overpriced and over crowded with rude hoards Iphones stuck to thier faces screaming into thin air.. its not really even worth it to try.

I want to walk to the park and enjoy the sun lay in the grass and read a book. Instead the grass is trampled the flowers are riddled with beer bottles and homeless excrement. I dare not venture out again in a skirt as the sheer number of complete wastiods it attracts is staggering.. and extremely uncomfortable. No drunken out of control fucking homeless idiot, a girl wearing a skirt does not mean she wants to chat with you about stealing her purse at the stop light.

Black is not the new year round fashion statement. Its great if you cant come up with anything else to throw on...and possibly if you are colorblind it weeds out the possibilities of embarassment. However, dressing in all black everything accented rarely with dark brown is hardly a fashion statement. I see so many wanna be trendy people walking around drenched in every black item they could pile on. Its boring, and spring is here...hello? Black in the spring is like wearing red or your favorite black to a wedding. Spring is a time for color...all those colors you usually dont wear during the winter. Flowing dresses, hats, tiny sweaters...skirts yes all the things San Francisco tries to make us feel bad for wearing. I dont care how much you accessorize your black faux leather jacket... its still a drab black baggy thing in the middle of the summer..looking horribly out of place and backasswards.

Uggs, San Francisco...Uggs are just that Uggggly....even if they are black...they are winter slippers. For use at the cabin. ONLY. You cant wear them with your mini skirt, you cant wear them out of the house, and you most defenately should not arrive anywear with those things on your feet expecting to dance. All I ever think of when I see that is chunky ankles and sweaty feet. Awesome combo ladies...yum. Really.

Its a moving city, Thats all I have to say...move here...move around ALOT...try to stay as busy with your own life as possible. Make a move somewhere else before it wears on your soul and sucks the energy out of you.

Numbered Life.

God another week has flown by, funny how the time goes into the unknown so quickly. Spring is fast approching and I cant belive its been a year already. It seems like only a few days ago I was planning my escape from San Francisco to the other side of the world.

Now I'm back and submerged deeply in the city grind again. Walking my same red brick path to work everyday. Saying hello to the same over paid bums, lining the civic center sprawl-way. Watching the market street gentrification project in full swing, as one art store is closed to make room for the newer better version in the newly renovated next door.

Pondering the use-fullness of hipster culture ...is it even considered a culture if a subculture only lasts a few years and is centralized in one place on the globe? I suppose so the hippies did it now didn't they? The 80's were hilarious, and we all know the revolutionaries and summer of love were a riot to watch before that. So you could argue that sub cultures are in fact supported on the fact that they have a short shelf life.

Trying to find inspiration in the way sunlight transfers across the office floor each day. As a sunrise turns slowly, almost with out notice into another evening. The way leaves tumble past my feet with the last rays of the day on the red brick path home. Watching the ocean fog blow past the sky freakishly fast from the tenth floor. The moon peeking out during the day, as if to confirm that time has officially lost its grasp. Lost hawks circling the Hobart building small and so fragile looking against the towering brick and steel high-rise square pegs that make up downtown.

I am a number, a living breathing social security, tax id, background checked, certified number. Living in a city full of other numbers, all searching for relivant job and life placement. Experience relative to their number of years on earth, and a pay point to match. I watch them ...talking to themselves...or into the thin air. Blue tooths engauged....ties straightened, hair tied back in smart buns. Everyday...they pass by me these numbers, nothing breaks their self serving agendas. No smile, no signs of life, just numbers. Faceless scowling numbers....to busy to remember yelling into your blue tooth means everyone in a tri county area can hear your conversation. To oblivious to walk in a way that you shouldn't ram into every other person on the street. Assuming that everyone else is less than them....numbers I see you everyday. In a way you are inspiring...you make business life possible and you care about these mundane hampster wheel tasks that fuel the CEO's and CFO's of your world. Ill give you that... the blatent focus of mind it takes to block all else out is amazing.

I know its where the money is... and everyone needs a fall back. So Ill trudge on ...getting my life experience and job training to match my years of life. To look good on paper, and blend with the populus of rapidly growing consumed numbers. Holding my breathe for sunny weekends and Mondays off.

Gloomy Sundays

I awoke at 5am this morning, listening to the snake thrash around in its cage. Filled with stir crazy bordome. He wakes every night around 3am and thrashes untill 11am the next morning. Provided noone plays with him, which I try and do every morning for at least twenty minutes.

Laying there watching the clock tick, listening to the silence of my room and the stillness of a listless Sunday morning. The tickle noises coming from the small gap in the walls between condos informs me that it is in fact raining. I sigh reliefe. I know with the rain the photoshoot that is schedualed for the day will be canceled, and that there is now no reason to get up at the god aweful hour of 530am to start preping outfits and laying out the work space for hair and make up.

I roll back over and slip back into sleep. The easiest thing to do in the morning, is just sink back into your covers and enjoy the lagtastic pace of a quiet sunday morning. I awake a few more times still half dreaming of the photoshoot and giving myself mini heart attacks thinking I am late. Only to remember the rain has saved me and sink back into the pillow top abiss that is my mattress.

I putter around the studio entertaining the idea of sewing, but wondering exactly where it was I stopped on the projects before the pinical of my last creative binge, the lovesick fashion show. Staring into the calendar, scribbling the new deadlines for shoe lines and custom orders. Budgeting the money I have yet to make for the next few months.

I stare out into the rainy day ahead and watch the teardrop shaped drips collect on the leaves of my garden. They drop onto the ground and further saturate the dirt, my baby tears are thankfully coming back from the dead. I check the computer for any signs from you. There is nothingness staring back at me.

Looking for guidance, and some spirituality I play the buddah book turn page crap shoot and read a passage. Strangely in tune with what I am feeling, the buddah book bestows its pearls of wisdom into my brain. Living with nothing, appreciating people unto the last.

The studio still looms its disorganized head, I cant make heads or tails of my projects. Cant nail down a start today. I look to the calendar for an answer and it reads "photoshoot" back at me. I think about this shoe collection and how silly it may be, but what a concept Id like to create. The solution to my newly freed time becomes clear. The thrift store is calling.

Community thrift on the corner of Valencia and 17th, is the new Goodwill of the city. The dumping ground for mission estate sales, and hipster trustafarian kids with too many pairs of designer shoes and jackets. The perfect combination of cheap spandex and vintage polyester. Its usually not busy, and since I had already scoped it out a few days before I knew or hoped it would still be ripe for the picking.

The smell of old closets and dusty wardrobes overtakes you as you walk in the door and I am greeted by two men fighting over who is going to buy a bent fender six string. After sifting through stains and faux snakeskin boots, I settle on three pairs of shoes for my collection, some random vintage jacket find and a shirt I can turn into a spring dress for resale and book it out.

I walk in the rain, paper bag disinegrating slowly under the misting rain. Nervous about another job starting tomorrow and listening intently to my headphones. Blasting out music I try and think of something other than how far away it is you have gone, and how quickly it all took place. Wishing you were here next to me, my walnut face.

What are we now? When will I know? Do you already know? Why does life have to always throw curve balls when you don't even feel like playing a game.

The all emcompassing feeling

Well this blog is offically completely updated. All my entries from live journal hidden away are now up. Everything from 24 on, an entire few years on paper is a completely interesting thing to fall appon at another date.

Why love must be such an all encompassing feeling I will never understand. It starts with such an overwhelming sickness. Invading your thoughts, your mind, your body, your spirit with joy and hapiness. The adventure of learning a new person and sharing yourself with them.

Slowly they become everyday living, you get used to their snoring, and bodily functions. Thier habits and hatreds. Needs and wants become issues and a realationship is borne.
Feelings will be hurt and tears will be shed. Yelling will ensue at times, and I will find what my father has always told me about holding my temper a lesson I am still struggling to learn.

When its over, this love emotion, or even when for reasons of the outside world pushing in it must be taken and pushed to the back behind our everyday lives. The level of all encompassing pain is amazing. It comes up like a wave overtaking your mind again, and your emotions this time are the horrible ones. The tear enducing, deep sob creating heart wretching emotions we all hide from. The complete loss of rational thought ensues, and actions like eating and talking become so difficult. The sense of being alone takes over and you for an instant forget who you are. Left there to rebuild...alone. Yourself.

There is no way to block it out. It over comes. There is no way to run away...it finds you in the darkest night when you least expect it.
Somewhere in there and here in SF is lost the magic I so desperately love. The sense of adventure and wanderlust. San Francisco, once my inspiration now drains me of happy thoughts and leaves money grubbing social conscience ones in it their place.

So now I sit, with a love so far away. Encompassed by the sense of freedom that I do not want, and the long road ahead to rebuilding. Rebuilding something from afar that in person needs to work. A theory of love, that in practice sometimes strains the soul.

What then...is this love... like a disease. It affects us all.