Cast into turbulent seas
Polished and refined
It forms the sands
Upon which we lie
In warm silence
Lost in the cacophony
Of our own dreams
When the mind and the body are in two different worlds, one seeks the other never meeting in between. Young is my heart and playful the mind. Drawn to youth and racing away the same. Foolhardy feelings lend to adventures and unsettling moments. Bold, gentle steps into the open I go. Many lives lived and many more to go. Young is my heart and creative my mind. Never satisfied with the present, my past left behind. I’ll build a great castle with walls crumbling down. See me. Feel me. I am none of deaf, dumb or blind. But touch me deep where only the mind may roam. One woman, one heart, many journeys must I live. Young is my heart and determined my mind. Let me not fall into old. Graceful steps. Frightening leaps. I venture forward. Youth chasing dreams. Aging vessel chasing time.
With a very heavy heart, I must leave San Francisco. The place I have called home for over 4 years. The tech industry has both powered and ruined this great city. The rent on my apartment will double the day I move out. Some high paid programmer and his girlfriend will likely be the only people to afford where I live now. Tech has sustained me for 18+ years. It has afforded me a life most would be very satisfied with. Yet it has taken my health and my sanity. I am very good at what I do. But ask me if I enjoy it anymore.
It only takes a few too many bad experiences and unemployment streaks to break a person here. I have had 8 different jobs in 4 years. The startup world can be brutal as war. I gave it my best. I worked my ass off. I put up with an overwhelmingly male driven career field. Unless you are a woman you can never understand what that is like. I have some amazing triumphs in Tech. Many of you see my work daily on various retail and entertainment sites based in Northern California. I am proud of what I achieved. And honored to have worked with some truly phenomenal people here in San Francisco. A few are my friends now and forever. I will miss many things here. Especially the dreams I had that were never fulfilled.
My future lies in my past now. I started off in this world as a full on creative doing production art in a small regional ad agency back east. I still have a piece of the artboard that covered my drafting table when I left as Art Director. I rocked graphic design and photo retouching. I drew constantly. I was deep into ceramic arts, even building my own kilns with another artist.
Now 48, I paint, draw, do photography and even record my music after nearly 15 years out of the arts, in preparation of a complete cold start back to a new old career. My brother asked to me to get back into ceramics last night. He is not the fist. I am amazing with my hands and I will when I land. I am not sure where I will land. For now I will be homeless and jobless. I will survive on a short sabbatical because of the support and love of family and friends.
What I can say is I will move somewhere more laid back, much less expensive where I can eventually have a yard and hopefully my own house and art studio. I will miss the mega conveniences of this most walkable city. But I will gain more freedom to create. I will not miss the near constant worry of how to just get by when most of what I earned went to rent, food, taxes and parking tickets. I will miss a few friends I have made up here. I will not miss the egotistical, ladder climbers that infest and gentrify this city.
I read almost daily about more and more people actually being driven out of San Francisco because of evictions by greedy landlords and a cost of living so high teachers, cooks, barista, artists, musicians, and even life long residents of the city can not afford to live in the city. As for the homeless that litter the streets, they say there are well over 5000 homeless living on the streets here. More daily. There are growing tent cities expanding under the highway around Cesar Chavez and Bayview Ave. Real tent cities of firmly encamped people with furniture and children no less! This is nothing short of a tragedy. The dirty underbelly of technology running wild making millionaires and ignoring the poor. This is a city of mass consumption too. It is easy to fall into that trap. Drugs and alcohol are the norm here. I have seen friends take it much too far. I have seen wasted wrecks of meth users convulsing on the sidewalks and drunks passed out face first in the street. This city WILL eat you alive if you let it.
I will leave this city in tears. Because it is a beautiful, eclectic melting pot of every culture you can imagine. Where it does not matter if you are gay, straight, bi, queer, trans, questioning, intersex, weird, artsy, scientific, nerdy, blue, tall, a bear, hipster, pony, unicorn or a furry. There is something for absolutely everyone here. I had so many hopes and dreams when I moved here over 4 years ago. For me I was never able to get that foothold I needed to make them all come true. That hurts the most. It will be hard to reconcile as I do not accept failure well.
But in some masochistic, ritual way I seem to have perfected, I will pack my shit and just leave as I have done many times before in other cities. I leave this city the same way I got here. Broke, unemployed and full of piss and vinegar and feeling much older. I will start completely over somewhere else with the same dreams and the same hopes I had almost 5 years ago when I decided, Fuck It! I am moving to San Francisco. And I will succeed one way or another. I am older and wiser now. I am experienced in “battle”. I can do this one more time. I just have too because that is what I do. I survive and keep moving forward no matter what.
Adieu et Bon Chance San Francisco.
“Dreams are illustrations…
from the book your soul is writing about you.”
A girlfriend of mine on Twitter just had this tattooed on her arm. How fitting. How Perfect. How simply beautiful. The meaning itself goes so much deeper than the ink in her skin. I know little of her personally but this simple quote speaks volumes about who she it. The moment she posted it I saw doors opening and closing in my mind. Memories, thoughts and ideas of who I am pouring across the milliseconds of time it took to grasp it’s depth of meaning to me.
It describes me, my life and all that I am in every minuted detail in only 12 words.
How is that possible? How can something so simple and meaningless to some have such epic meaning in my reality? I guess to know that you have to know something about me. But then now you do. Now you know everything about me. I have no more secrets, no riddles or questions hidden away to be pried from my dead fingers when that day comes. To understand you must appreciate the art of my life.
My life is a dream. My life has been filled with dreams in dark, unfocused gray on black, in crystal clear technicolor with symphonic sound and lucid hyper reality upon wings of my own design. My book is filled with all these beautiful, tragic and loving illustrations. I sometimes transpose these dreams into my own reality, my art, my music, my life.
My life is a work of art. I am that illustration, unfinished and ever evolving. Styles changing and morphing from one to another. My “Blue Period”, my Renaissance, Classical and Modern period all unfolding with each breath. Simply to be the charcoal upon the paper or am I the canvas upon which it is laid?
Dreams are illustrations. And my soul is a master of fine art.
The greatest powers in the universe cannot hold back tears that need to flow free. Mine had been building for a few weeks. I did not cry long or particularly hard. This time I had my mother their to catch me. So many times I have cried in the last 2 years that I wished mom was there. Today she was because I am home for the first time in many years. Today I cried and All I needed was a catalyst.
The Blue Fairy pried the memories from my mind and the tears soon followed. As I watched the movie AI with mom, I realized I had forgotten about the Blue Fairy. The Blue Fairy was to grant David is sole wish in life; to made into a real boy so that he could return home so his mother would love him always. Towards the end of the movie the key to my tears would soon appear. As David steers the craft too the bottom of the ocean where what seems a blue fair stands silently in the ruins of humanity, he finds her and asks her “Blue Fairy, can you make me a real boy?”
The darkened cell in which a certain memory lay captive, silent and seemingly dormant was released. And David became trapped in a prison forever just out of reach of the Blue Fairy to perpetually pray to her to make him real and to be loved.
I too had my Blue Fairy as a child. Endlessly praying to release me from my own prison and to make me “real” too. For me what seems a lifetime, over 30 years, since then my wish was finally granted. But it was not the Blue Fairy to release me from my struggle to “become real.” David’s wish too was granted in a way after 2000 years. And like me the Blue Fairy was not the one to satisfy his dream.
In the end it is not important how each of our wishes came true. It is only fair to say that they did in our own important way. Not the exact way each of us had hoped and dreamed for so so very long. But in others equally as beautiful.
I am not a robot. I have always been real. Just not as real as I was meant to be, but I am now. I have also known unwavering love from my mother. In the end David did too even as she passed in her sleep as he held her hand. The strange irony of standing in the doorway of my bathroom as the tears came before heading off to bed, my head on my mother’s shoulder, struck me even as I cried and told her briefly of my Blue Fairy.
Please god let this be real… she whispers softly.
Her pillows piled high against her, she softly cuddles with them.
She could only think of her lover, imagining they were together.
Two lost souls reaching out to each other.
She embraces the pillows harder.
Her soft flesh pressing into the fabric.
Longing for warmth and a tender touch.
Longing for the heartbeat beating against her bosom.
Softly, silently she whispers her lover’s name.
Drawing from her dreams she gently fades into the night.
Embracing her lover a thousand miles away.
I want to share a dream I had this morning before sunrise. I must warn you first, if you are queasy, or disturbed by graphic content please don’t read any further. This was one of the most disturbing dreams I recall ever having in my life. I can still visualize it in graphic detail, like it just happened. Please trust me when I say I have held nothing back and that this blog may be quite disturbing to many.
Step back 2 days and you will find my wife and myself embarking on a private voyage upon our little yacht S/V Soul Mates. She is a lovely traditional sailing vessel designed for cruising around the world in comfort and safety. I always feel at home on her and I always feel like I am home on the water. No matter how far off shore or how miserable the weather. I hold a USCG 50 Ton Master Mariners license and I have been on the water since I was old enough to walk. I am Pisces. Go figure.
Saturday we anchor out and have a lovely dinner together, at peace in out surroundings.
Sunday was a beautiful although cold day sailing in the Pacific. We looked for whales but saw none. Only a few dolphins in the distance and a vast ocean are our only company. We returned to anchor and enjoyed the comfort of each other and light music.
Monday morning around 4 am. My day changed.
In the world of dreams I bound in and out of different stories none of which I remember now. Save one. In my peaceful sleep I find my self suddenly thrust into this dream of cold gray and stone. Like an old middle age castle and courtyard. From here everything happens so fast I just cant understand what was going on. I turn to see a dirty and bloodied priest like person in red robes. Only I notice immediately it is not his blood smeared upon his face. I don’t know if he sees me or not but it almost seems as if I am compelled or forced to follow him just yards from where I entered the dream.I hear screams and begin to realize the chaos surrounding me. I see more of these “priests” running around purposefully and methodically. I see other people not like them being driven to the ground. I feel myself being drawn to an area near a raised stone garden at the entrance of some building. My sight is spinning from one side to the other like a camera on a pivot.
It is late sunset and it is cold and gray. Screaming is everywhere. People and priests. But the screams are not the same. The people are screaming in terror and pain. As I again focus I feel I am being driven to the ground. But I have time to scan the area again. I see men and women being driven to the ground, bound to trees building supports and attacked. I notice the blood, I can actually smell the stale, moist, metallic odor of free flowing blood. I am driven further down. In the corner of my eye I see a man or rather a transgendered person being slaughtered with a large knife as he is tied to a cross. Screaming all the while he is being killed. He is trying to plead for his life, he is saying he has every right to be alive and why, why?… until he is dead. The blood is everywhere like a Quentin Tarantino movie. It was awful. Literally pools of blood everywhere.
The highly enraged assailant thrusts himself in my direction as I am driven down. I see two other people below me. One a man in female clothing being held by other “Priests” and the other a woman, no a hermaphrodite woman. she is beautiful and clad in a thin linen like garment. She has the blood of many others splattering upon her. She is strapped like Jesus to a cross. Her clothing is ripped from her breast. She is exposed and suddenly a crazed man with a large knife comes at her. He jumps to her breast and begins to slice into the flesh slowly from the top down like he is cutting a ham or something. I am filled with fear and anger. I feel bound and unable to help anyone. At this point I realize all the people around are gay, trans, herm or of some similar category. All the time I am thinking these are my people why are you doing this.
I feel nothing but purer evil and hatred from these “Priests”. There eyes are wild like crazed animals. They are intent on slaughtering everyone. I hear people screaming as they try to reason and plea with our attackers. But we are all overpowered. My sight returns to the woman and the man below me. I am on my knees now bent over the woman forced to watch before my turn arises. It is of the cruelest of intents these murderers act. The woman is in so much pain as the man carves her breast from her chest only to leave them minimally intact and hanging.
I am totally freaked by the blood and graphic intensity of this dream and I now know I am dreaming. But I do not wake yet, though I try. As I begin to blur into consciousness I see the attackers grab the woman’s dress peal it away from her and slice her penis and gouge out her vagina. I am at the same time waking and disgusted that I am even having this dream. Just before I wake I turn my head as I am forced down over the woman’s bloodied and writhing body still screaming … I see the man beside her attacked with the same intensity and the same blade as he is also dismembered. I can just now see it is happening to everyone and I am certainly next.
I awaken in a very cold night. It is dark and quiet with only the sound of the shrimp popping on the hull of my boat. My wife is sleeping peacefully beside me none the wiser. I lay still in the darkness trying to clear my mind of these horrific images and thoughts. But as you can see it is still VERY clear in my mind now. I hope it goes away and never comes back.
Why did my subconscious do this to me? And Why so graphic and violent?
I pray I never have dream like that again. It is way to disturbing for even me to want to remember.
Peace, oh peace great ocean I seek your comfort tonight.