Friday, November 25, 2016

Fiction Fridays: Why Love, a poem

Hey all.

Today I wrote a poem, and I thought I'd publish that rather than Part Two Chapter 13 of the novel, but no worries, Chapter 13 will be coming soon (like next week.) :)

Other updates: I have been had at work on several projects. 1) training for my upcoming role as Police Detective Jo Frazer in the new series, "Emergency: LA," 2) working on a few projects I can't officially announce yet, but, trust me, they're cool! and 3) working diligently on my digital series with Carlo- currently rehearsing the theme song and a scene we are filming to show potential investors next month. Whew! But today, on my walk, a bit down-hearted, I wrote a very dramatic poem with a hopeful-ish ending.

Why Love

I walk endlessly
To keep me from sleeping forever.

I, among the walking dead, the numb, the horrified, the pacified;
the huddled masses exist all within my own heart now.
Yours, too, I'll bet. But don't go looking. Save your tears.  
All the self help arguments stopped working and now
Only poetry and sometimes movies are balm to the existentially wounded.
And we are each a statistic, 
Some more meaningful than others. 

I wish I were a rich white man 
It would be easier to convince myself of my own importance 
Or at least ignore the pain of being alive,
And if, in a thousand years, some strange future me
should read these words, 
will their meaning become biblical? Or merely a whisper, scrawled into the sand?
And relative, and relative, and meaningless, and meaningless. 

But as a woman
I give birth 
And there is no epidural stronger
Than the force within these hips.
Oh perhaps... perhaps my drama precedes your love and is due to be carried out to sea.
And yet, my love, 
We are true to one another, are we not? 
And so I may not sleep 
Until hand clasped in hand we, together,  face that misty veil. 
For as you promised me
So I keep my promises alive 
And so I sing 
And so you hold me close
As still the song lingers on


Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Fiction Tuesdays: My Life as a Phone Psychic, the NOVEL, Version NYC2012, Part Two, Chapter 12

If you have never yet read any of the installments of the novel I wrote in 2012 and am posting here, please start here!

Here is a link to the PREVIOUS Chapter, Part 2, Chapter 11.

If you are all caught up, here is Part Two, Chapter 12.

xx




Chapter Twelve
            Lily is somehow watching herself zoom through time. She never knows how this happens, and she never understands it, and she feels somehow like she is almost missing out on something that the rest of the world is taking part in…
            My life…
            For now, Lily is in the throes of a very commercially successful reality show. She is the star of “My Life As a Phone Psychic.” And she can never forget it. Fans and paparazzi suddenly surround her and her entire life has changed, has changed, has changed. She is exhausted, taping episode after episode. She has no other life, no Lily, at all, except for home alone at night in her bed. Jones and David take turns staying with her, each uncomfortable with the entire situation, and no one willing to make any claims. Lily has not gone missing at all, except from her dreams she never knew she had. She is not in her body, either. Often, she hovers above her body and watches as
            America watches
            as
            The world watches.
            I, not me, but me in this lifetime, the body that is Lily Moore, the woman who exists within me but is me but is not me…
            How could she ever explain how it happens? There is no way. It is not as if there is another being also inhabiting her body, it’s not that exactly, although it does feel like a psychotic split from time to time, but that is a human explanation, a rationalization of something which is energetically beyond the puny conceptual understanding of human existence.
            It is not science fiction.
            It is as if she coexists in multiple realities.
            Although… is also… it is not exactly….
            It is like she is… an angel… or rather…
            Like… as if an angel speaks through her.
            On the show, she constantly wants to shout at the person she reads:
            “You are God! But God is not You!”
            Because that is as close to the truth of this experience as she can “speak.”
            All other human words, all words render this life, this experience somewhat falsified, and to give language to an experience such as this is to give falsified information and yet….
            We are destined to relate to one another, to communicate with and to one another
            and
            the people, oh the people. They are so lost, so hopeful, so hopeless, so fearful, so egotistical, so attached, so wonderful, so beautiful, so… human…
            For the most part, none of us, NONE of us, know the beauty of our own existence, at least not the people calling in on my show.
            Lily tells them what she thinks will help them grow into their own human beauty and power and god beauty and power as is possible but without scaring them and while giving them a little of what it is they think they want. And how does she know how to do this?
            I have no idea.
            She tells them about their babies, about their deceased relatives, about weather patterns and lottery numbers. She tells them why, if she is “actually” psychic, she does not take power over the world and win the lottery herself or become president…. it is because that is not who she is and it would backfire in some strange, horrid way if she tried to be anything other than herself.
“If a rose tried to be an oak tree, it wouldn’t be very successful, would it?” she asks. So few hear that. They can only hear from their own agenda, and rare is the soul who has crafted his or her agenda from his or her own soul, instead of from a culturized existence. “Because I do not own this information as I do not own this body as I do not own any possession. None of us do. We merely watch it for a while, babysit it, enjoy it, on behalf of all that is and ever was…”
            But how does one say this esoteric sounding information in a way that has meaning to the listener’s heart? And then…
            Go back to an apartment with a man, two men, one at a time… each of whom Lily is in love with…
            Burning at night in her bed (between sheets the color of fire)?
            Fever in her blood, splotched and bleeding fever like jungle lilies, desire eating her alive, desire for both, leaving her unavailable to either…
            And they wait,
            they wait,
            and they wait- and for
            what?

Monday, November 21, 2016

A calling

I am so happy for those of you who are using self help to get through these times of apparent struggle and arrive at a place of self-realization. That is wonderful, and I applaud you. For me, this is a time for the dark and winding staircase to my secret soul, to the place where danger and laughter and hope and fear intermingle, like wine and perfume and sexual longing at the intermission of a great show on a great date. For me, this is a time to open up my mind and let the beauty of art touch me everywhere, in that way only art and music and literature can fully express and reach me, because everything else I could write or say or read or hear would never make as much sense as Beethoven's 9th symphony, as Nina Simone singing a cover of Leonard Cohen's "Suzanne," as ee cummings and four leaf clovers, as that ancient calling I felt when first I read "The Once and Future King" and T.S. Eliot's "Wasteland," when I heard Tori Amos and felt like there was someone who had gone to the inside of my bone marrow and written songs about my life before I was even a singer myself... it's a time for Chinua Achebe and Neil Gaiman, for Harry Potter and Verdi, for Mary Shelley and Billie Holiday. Why? Because I don't need permission to be positive, to be a good girl, to do the right thing, to be super duper happy, to change the world, to speak correctly. I actually am already that woman and was raised lovingly to take care of your hurts and wounds and I.... I don't need a reminder not to dampen someone else's day with my emotions or my mind or even my sexuality, which does in fact belong to me, and I don't need to be yelled at just because I supported one candidate or the other or because I did march and then I didn't march and then I will again and then...... Ugh. F*** all that that I just wrote, even though I meant it and it's true and there is a time and place for all of it and that time is always now and that place is always here, if that is the time and this is the place, but for me, for now, only poetry and algebra and desire can reignite this flame, and by algebra I mean that, and by all of it, I am actually speaking in code, and so, now, let's sit with our music, and our books, let's light a fire and read aloud to one another and tell each other of the ancient lights and conquests, of the dreams still in our heart, and when silence become our music we may fall into a dream of our own humanity and linger, until human voices wakes us.... and we.... drown... but drown in the sea of love, where everyone would love to be.

Or we could just look at some puppy videos. That works for me.

Tuesday, November 8, 2016

The Girl in 14G

Guys... I have been busy. SORRY! But I promise some exciting things are coming up and I WILL get my 2016 things to be grateful for in one way or another but for TODAY, TUESDAY, ELECTION DAY, I'm all dressed up and singing a little cabaret to take your mind away from the US Election if only for a second. xoxoxo