Western Christmas Morning 2008

Sitting on the couch, having coffee and listening to Lee Hazelwood with my honey.

I feel like starting a macrame project. Orange and brown.

The wind is howling outside, snow whipping all over the bloody place, obscuring mountains - and - the path to the compost heap.

It's very western nevertheless, craggy ragged plain of earth at the foothills of the San Francisco peaks. The house trembles.

Oh, what a nice guitar sound.

Dreamed of my middle-school* again. TJ was there. I went to speak before a large audience about something, then decided not to. I was wearing overalls, but no shirt. The principal** didn't know what to say.

Maybe it's a dream about how I was sexualized as a child while I attended that school.

Yesterday, in my dream, I was riding a bicycle behind the school, through marshy grass and puddles. I was looking at tattoo designs. There were no boys in the dream, only hip women.

I miss moisture. Yes, it's been humid here, in the form of a blizzard; we're having our third snowstorm in a row.

Randy has never heard Lee Hazelwood before. He just said, "He's like a cross between Neil Diamond, Willy Nelson - whose that folk singer that I hate? - oh yeah, Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan and a little David Allen Coe sprinkled on top. It's brilliant."

Guess I can't linger about the snow. It's here, and probably will be for the next 4 months. It's too windy to even shovel. We're looking at gusts up to 55 mph.



This music is making me feel like I'm riding on a horse into a Tucson sunset, orange red sky, silhouettes of sujaro cacti, a margarita in my hand, just a slight breeze on my warm skin.

The first time I drove toward Phoenix (toward Tucson)since I've been here was in August 2007. I came around a long bend and the landscape exploded green and red with napoles cacti, plump and heavy with swollen prickly pear fruit. I began to weep.




* Woodglen School - Glen Gardener, NJ

** Dr. Deibert