"CAR WASH"
a youthful voice raised to it upper most heights yelled out over the noise of traffic.
I was on my way here to the internet cafe' to do some writing. As my dog and I approached her, I read the words on her flourecent green sighn, and they said: "Help us raise money for Mexico."
"Are you actually raising money to give to poor people in Mexico?" I asked her.
"No, we're going on a mission to mexico, and some people still need money to get there."
"Oh," I said, " So, what are you preaching?"
She looked confused, and almost hesitated before answering "Christianity" in a voice that implied "duh."
"huh," I shook my head and walked away.
Her head and her sighn both seemed to lower, and I didn't hear her voice yelling "CAR WASH" behind me.
What can I say.....
I guess when you believe there is only one answer, you don't like being questioned.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
fragile
there's something in your eyes right now
that makes me think you'll see
the things that other people don't
those hidden parts of me
and I want to touch your body
just to feel your warmth within
let go of what has ended
to allow this to begin
but new things are so fragile
and I worry it might break
and things that seem so genuine
could turn out to be fake
I guess that I'm just frightened
because I've believed before
that someone would be there for me
but he's not here no more
and I know I shouldn't think this way
but sometimes it's just hard
outside I might be smooth and soft
but inside I am scarred
that makes me think you'll see
the things that other people don't
those hidden parts of me
and I want to touch your body
just to feel your warmth within
let go of what has ended
to allow this to begin
but new things are so fragile
and I worry it might break
and things that seem so genuine
could turn out to be fake
I guess that I'm just frightened
because I've believed before
that someone would be there for me
but he's not here no more
and I know I shouldn't think this way
but sometimes it's just hard
outside I might be smooth and soft
but inside I am scarred
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
fragments
there's no return to innocence
you can't unlearn the things you know
where does one run for shelter
when the storms rage from below
and I'm sorting through the memories
of moments that are gone
weighed down by all the heavy things
that I keep holding on
and he's like a ghost whose eyes I can see
staring intently directly through me
and the silence is an echo
and I wonder if he knows
how it feels from this perspective
or why he chose the things he chose
and words are lost when weariness
creeps into my bones
and circles come around again
because they long to close.
you can't unlearn the things you know
where does one run for shelter
when the storms rage from below
and I'm sorting through the memories
of moments that are gone
weighed down by all the heavy things
that I keep holding on
and he's like a ghost whose eyes I can see
staring intently directly through me
and the silence is an echo
and I wonder if he knows
how it feels from this perspective
or why he chose the things he chose
and words are lost when weariness
creeps into my bones
and circles come around again
because they long to close.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
going south
water reflects the mood of the sky
but this time the gray doesn't match what's inside
'cause I feel like summer despite the cold breeze
'cause I'm going south where the music will be
have a new friend and I'm liking his vibe
he's going south, I'm along for the ride
and the sun will remember how I glow in its rays
and I'll be in motion for the next several days
and I think I'll forget all the things that cause worry
I'm in with the flow and in no kind of hurry
the company's good, and the view from the road
and new things to see that I've never been shown
I'm heading down south and it makes me feel free
and I'm closer to the person that lives inside of me
I'll let my feet walk barefoot, and let my skin touch air
I'll let my smile find my eyes, and take the ties out of my hair
and maybe I'll reveal the things that I don't often share
as we're rolling along to the beat of a song
all for the sake of just going somewhere.
So I wrote that piece on my way to the coffee shop to meet my new friend Mr. Pink and take off to California for a couple days. Pink works with the band Maktub (http://www.maktub.com/) who was playing a couple shows at the High Sierra Music Festival in Quincy California. Pink and I have been working on our own musical project and his keen sensitivities told him that I could use the escape, so he invited me along. I am very happy that he did because it was a great experience on multiple levels. First of all, I very much enjoyed getting to know him better because he is truly a beautiful person. I also got to experience what it's like to be on the other side of the fence. As part of the bands entourage I was given a backstage pass in the form of a blue bracelet. It almost felt like a power band at times allowing me to avoid the crowds, and most importantly the porta-potties. There were food and beverages available, and even the opportunity for free massage. I have to say that I was happy to have no reason to partake of the massage because Mr. Pink is quite the masseur himself:)
Attending a festival in this way was quite interesting. Being separate from the regular concert goers helped me to see it from a different perspective. Over the past several years I have attended quite a few of these gatherings, and was increasingly finding myself uncomfortable with something I couldn't put my finger on. You see, there are people who make a life style out of going from one festival to another all wrapped up in tie-dyed sarongs selling ganja cookies on shake-down street. There was a time in my life when I thought this was freedom. But behind the fence that separated the artists from the fans was yet another fence, and on the other side of that fence was a timber yard. As I stood there with sweaty hippies dancing to my right, and a grave yard for murdered trees on my left, I couldn't help feeling like these people were missing the point. It was interesting to watch them as they kept their eyes from wandering over to the inevitable buzz-kill of the dead trees. And while they ate mushrooms and payed homage to the earth, there was one lonely bearded man standing in a pile of garbage trying to sort out the recyclables.
Thank you bearded guy.
-Jillian
but this time the gray doesn't match what's inside
'cause I feel like summer despite the cold breeze
'cause I'm going south where the music will be
have a new friend and I'm liking his vibe
he's going south, I'm along for the ride
and the sun will remember how I glow in its rays
and I'll be in motion for the next several days
and I think I'll forget all the things that cause worry
I'm in with the flow and in no kind of hurry
the company's good, and the view from the road
and new things to see that I've never been shown
I'm heading down south and it makes me feel free
and I'm closer to the person that lives inside of me
I'll let my feet walk barefoot, and let my skin touch air
I'll let my smile find my eyes, and take the ties out of my hair
and maybe I'll reveal the things that I don't often share
as we're rolling along to the beat of a song
all for the sake of just going somewhere.
So I wrote that piece on my way to the coffee shop to meet my new friend Mr. Pink and take off to California for a couple days. Pink works with the band Maktub (http://www.maktub.com/) who was playing a couple shows at the High Sierra Music Festival in Quincy California. Pink and I have been working on our own musical project and his keen sensitivities told him that I could use the escape, so he invited me along. I am very happy that he did because it was a great experience on multiple levels. First of all, I very much enjoyed getting to know him better because he is truly a beautiful person. I also got to experience what it's like to be on the other side of the fence. As part of the bands entourage I was given a backstage pass in the form of a blue bracelet. It almost felt like a power band at times allowing me to avoid the crowds, and most importantly the porta-potties. There were food and beverages available, and even the opportunity for free massage. I have to say that I was happy to have no reason to partake of the massage because Mr. Pink is quite the masseur himself:)
Attending a festival in this way was quite interesting. Being separate from the regular concert goers helped me to see it from a different perspective. Over the past several years I have attended quite a few of these gatherings, and was increasingly finding myself uncomfortable with something I couldn't put my finger on. You see, there are people who make a life style out of going from one festival to another all wrapped up in tie-dyed sarongs selling ganja cookies on shake-down street. There was a time in my life when I thought this was freedom. But behind the fence that separated the artists from the fans was yet another fence, and on the other side of that fence was a timber yard. As I stood there with sweaty hippies dancing to my right, and a grave yard for murdered trees on my left, I couldn't help feeling like these people were missing the point. It was interesting to watch them as they kept their eyes from wandering over to the inevitable buzz-kill of the dead trees. And while they ate mushrooms and payed homage to the earth, there was one lonely bearded man standing in a pile of garbage trying to sort out the recyclables.
Thank you bearded guy.
-Jillian
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