New lyrics to Donovan's "Catch the Wind" for my Brian, by me.




I can't understand
Half of what you say,
But I still love
You anyway

You
Will always
Be
My bestest frin.

So when you've gone bad
And then I've done wrong,
Brain says we won't be
Around too long

Don't be scared
to
Go Around again.

From Gold & Black
To smokin crack,
From KISS costumes
To rented rooms

Sleeping in the park
To save some dough.

We did what we could
And we understood,
Where you're head was at
I still think of Matt

Fucked-up playin
Punkrock in the snow.

From Black & Gold
To lookin old,
From mad discipline
to heroin

Running from the monsters
all the time.

Tried to fix the head
All my friends are dead,
Except for you
And a chosen few

You will always be
A friend of mine.

I don't drive.

I've only owned one car in my entire life,  used and given to me, for less than one year. Never even bothered to reregister it in my name or switch out the WV plates for CA ones.

I recycle.

I don't litter.

I carry my own stainless steel water bottle, instead of buying a million tiny plastic ones and throwing them away.

I cleaned up a local park awhile back with my son and a host of other volunteers.

I grew the seed of a dying redwood, moved it w/me when I changed homes, kept it until it was too big for my apt, then gave it to my yoga instructor, who drove it up to her & her husband's property in Mendocino County and planted it outdoors.

I was a Fix Our Feral lady for a while.

I nurture found random dying plants/plant clippings thus perpetuating their lifeforce.

I don't buy animals. They just find me over the yrs and become part of the family.

My apt. has water heat under the floors thereby bypassing the need for natural gas.

I've never owned a cellphone, altho I do pay for my son's.

Altho I own these items, I have never purchased a tv/vcr/dvd player/answering machine. They have all been either new or used gifts.

I don't patronize fast-food establishments.

I reuse plastic grocery bags and, as of today, will be returning un-reused ones to stores that recycle them. I also have my own hemp/cotton grocery bags, which I use for various shopping errands.

I just started buying biodegradable kittybox liners.

I love my kitty.

*author's note: Okay, so I recently broke down and split the cost of a new dvd player w/daboy after the old one croaked.
 

Creepy.
My apartment is on the first floor now, with my bedroom windows opening onto the sidewalk without.
It is dark, and I can hear the footfalls and verbal business of evening wanderers passing by on their various missions.
I lie in my bed, listening.

And then I am outside, and heading down the street with an unnamed friend.
And then we are inside, the prey of a madman at street's end.

Darkness, shadows, and dust.
High ceilings, hidden corners.
Murkiness and muffled scream.
Not a sound is made.

I sit stock-still as he sews my mouth shut with thick, coarse black twine.
I do not cry.
I do not bleed.
I do not attempt escape.
I know better.

Stitch after stitch, his rough thumbs and forefingers force the oversized needle through the flesh around my lips.
I feel it's point pop through to the inside of my mouth.
Stitch by stitch, I feel the twine unevenly passing through my tissue, sealing me shut.
It catches in places as it passes, and he tugs a bit harder now and again,
Biting his own lip in concentration as he does so.

I lightly, and ever so quietly, tap the fingers of my right hand on the metal table at my side...
grasping for something a bit less terrifying
than the horror of my here and now.

It is almost involuntary.
It is to keep me quiet.
It is to keep me from choking.
It is to keep me sane.

He hums as he sews.
Humming a tune that echoes off the warehouse walls as he admires his handiwork.

Cross-stitch.

He somehow adds two final inner stitches, inside my mouth, one on either side, that tightens things down and pulls it shut.
Seals the deal.

As he does this, I reach out for my companion's hand.
He/she has already been closed and simply stands, mute.
Awaiting.

I know if I move or resist, he will kill me where I sit.
So I wait for him to finish his work.
He will step out briefly after the sewing stops.
If we cannot find a way out before he returns,
We are both dead.

I woke up dreaming this at 3:46 this morning.
And promptly closed my window.
Then opened the curtains so I could see the sky and her stars,
and assure myself that I am on the fourth floor, with my bedroom looking out onto the roof, that is thankfully free of lunatics with upholstery needles waiting to snatch me out of my bed!

I woke up twice more from ongoing plays of nocturnal disturbia after this: one culminating in enforced restraint and  painful physical assault, the other lost/stolen neccessities.

It's crazy windy outside right now! I think it just might break something. Freaky weird.

If I didn't have so much to do tomorrow, I'd consider just not going to sleep at all tonight...