When will I begin to live again

How many planes are taking off right now, and how many are just landing? Is there any symmetry to the timelines and destinations? I know there are flights that occur daily, and the rhythms that happen, of take-offs and landings, is something to count on, rely upon, plan an escape to.

I wonder if you watched from the window from that room up so high, could you tell the time by just watching the planes ascend into the smog filled Los Angeles sky? I suppose it is a more precise measure then a newly acquired wrist watch, especially when you trade one timezone, for another.

And I will always remember that airport, and the significance it has to me. The trips taken, the people met at baggage claim, or in hotel doorways, and the future adventures that may, or may not, take place. I have maps and travel books stacked on a shelf, the one I sleep next to. I take them out often, lay on the floor and peruse the street names, cafes, places of so-called interest - and I dream, wish, want, and desire.

I miss the sound of the plane's on the tarmac, the lighted towers that change colours, blinking off and on, and I miss the feel of an over-filled suitcase dragging behind me, and a ticket to ride between my fingers. I miss what it all once meant, and what it still means, to me.

"One day I'll fly away
Leave all this to yesterday
Why live life from dream to dream
And dread the day when dreaming ends."

One Day I'll Fly Away ~ Nicole Kidman (from Moulin Rouge)
One Day I'll Fly Away (video) ~ Nicole Kidman (from Moulin Rouge)

she's so dull

keep art alive; art by joshua petker

"oh, you know her, "miss groupie supreme"

yeah, you know her, "vera vogue" on parade

red eye shadow! green mascara!

yuck! she's too much

she looks like she don't know better

a case of partial extreme

dressed in a robert hall sweater

acting like a soap opera queen

yeah, she's so dull, come on rip her to shreds."

rip her to shreds ~ blondie

video of 1st television appearance

video of blondie's last performance at cbgb's

live at edinburgh castle (july 2007)

it was my first trip away from home that did not involve family of some sort. a school trip, all of us piled in a much too hot bus that smelled of sweat, bubble yum, and adolescence. i held the tape player between my knees, squishing in closer to christina so we could both hear, finally snapping the headphones in two. matt turned around and popped his head over the seats, asked what we were listening to. i let him take my half of the headphones and he started belting out blondie's rip her to shreds.

he had music in him which was probably what i liked about him. the stereotypical son of a preacher man, i suppose, rebelling in the only way you can when you are that young. though i think his father had music in him, too; i'd seen the way he lingered a bit too long when the choirs were practicing, and i knew he'd bought matt his first guitar.

years later i would hear this song often. the seventies were part of my own perceived rebellion, or more than that, part of me taking my first steps into becoming myself. it was 1989, and i would climb up on a stage to dance with james to this song, or spin around on an old rollar skating rink turned dancefloor, with kate.

and yeah, there were girls who fit this song who graced the same streets of hollywood that we did. and yeah, there were probably girls who sang it thinking of me, and my friends. it is always so easy to rip someone to shreds. but, honestly i much prefer to laugh at this song, and the memory of a twelve year old rockabilly boy singing it on a school bus, or a cross-dressing bookstore clerk doing his thing on a raised platform.

as we go drowning

"there are angels,

in your angles,

there's a low moon,

caught in your tangles;

there's a ticking,

at the sill,

there's a purr of a pigeon,

to break the still of day,

as on we go drowning,

down we go away.

and darling, we go a-drowning,

down we go away,

away.

there's a tough word,

on your crossword,

there's a bed bug nipping a finger;

there's a swallow,

there's a calm,

here's a hand to lay on your open palm today,

as on we go drowning,

down we go away.

and darling,

we go a-drowning,

down we go away,

away.

there are angels,

in your angles,

there's a low moon,

caught in your tangles."

of angels and angles ~ the decemberists

rather be home with no-one when i can't get down with you

i don't feel like dancing ~ scissor sisters

& the video

"wake up in the morning with a head like what you done,

this used to be the life,

but i don't need another one.

good luck cuttin' nothin',

carrying on,

you wear them gowns.

so, how come i feel so lonely when you're up getting down?

so i play along when i hear that favourite song,

i'm gonna be the one who gets it right.

you better know when you're swingin' round the room,

look's like magic's soley yours tonight."

sunday nights used to be filled with getting ready, sharing the bathroom mirror, trading clothes, music blaring and spirits high. the drive there was filled with more music, and a few stops on the way to pick up friends, and often a bottle or two of something (often strawberry boones). we never stood in line, usually had a space held for us to park in, and most nights it was truly a place where everyone knew our name. and the dancing, fucking hell, the dancing. as i sit here tonight trying to edit a presentation for a client meeting all i can think of is that i'd rather be rushing about getting ready for 1970.

life is beautiful & terrible & strange

"remember when we used to stumble,

down the boulevard,

from bar to bar until we couldn't stagger straight.

it seemed like we would live forever,

life was not this hard,

no we felt nothing much at all,

but it felt great"

today i miss those days, the simplicity and the complications. sometimes i feel like i understood life so much more - back then.

take me home ~ concrete blonde

& the video