Friday, June 1, 2007


day two, west coast excursion..yesterday was slightly hazy from lack of true sleep, ahhh to be back in the world of all night long milk grubbing baby girl. she turned one and is ever so much cuter than when i last saw her, her hair can now be catagorized as a shock of blond hair, with there be several gradations of blond running from the roots to the tips. she is more solid in her stance and has taken to shrieking when she feels the need. i was told about this new behavior but thought nothing heavy 'bout it, until...we were in mom's kitchen hanging out, when time was interupted. i am not joking. she let out a short shriek, whose vibration was a steel edge, fine enough to pierce through crystal glass. i have heard of opera singers being able to break fine tuned crystal with perfect pitch in the upper strata of frequency. her voice cause a slight hallucination in my perception. i am serious..time became stopped and everything in my vision took a hard gleaming edge. it was as if the vibration of her voice did the exact oppisite of shaking the room, it froze it. all material was gleaned to a brittle moment in the highness of her voice. the shreik was not so much loud as it was clean and shrill...cleaved your bones, and stopped forward conscious-ness. slight visual fraction, just enough that the characteristics of the room were steadied in glass. i would like to get a picture of the moment of one of her hypothesis is that there will be a sharpness in the photo, all objects will stiffen, showing a luster, any people in the photo will have the look of a waxen figure, and finally there will be one thin white line that divides the space from emma's belly into two seperate this is just my thereoy, i have no way of knowing when she will pull a shriek into being, it is very seldom..and i believe that the shutter will freeze for a split second, not being able to clock in the crystal vibration that can steady time..she is very special to me, i will keep her super-human powers from the world at large, only my blog-friends and any other people strange enough to take their time out of the day to hear my cartoonish cup of reality spill all over the front page of george w. saving the world..i love being back here in parents live in the mission district, atop a hill with panaromic views of telegraph hill, and from the front of the house the veiw goes all the way to the bay..i am in a bit of culture shock right now. i am in loev withthe diversity and passion that exudes from this bohemian land. there is a creative energy here that makes me want to take to the paper with pen and write for a month straight. who cares if it is all in my head, s.f. is my writers paradise. i see the blood of the beat writers running in the gutters, boiling frothing red verabge, that spills into the gutters sounding out a be-bop rythym, a constant hum of life bleeding out the heart in colors and freedom of family jokes that i would fit right in with the almost homeless artist type, selling their work for tea money and living on strong joe, and painted metaphors. i have a strong sense of compassion for those who are on the streets in hardship and pain..but i can't help but to romanticize being in the street in s.f... the weather is always pleasant, i would go homeless here, rather than philly, where i saw many harden souls skin split with frostbite, and sores with flies from the heat...i will try and post many pictures of what i take to be the different views of the city..
steady hum the fog lifts and she is smiling
her flowers spread out before i stop,
the trolley slips and sways deep bows, every other minute..
a photograph-able human spirit parades across the corner i see myself
in the daring graffiti, sky and sea,
square buildings the city beckons my pen to explode i cannot stop
my gaze from
wrapping people's lifes into prose,
i fall in love stumbling over cracks the cast iron gates stared my desires
we slipped into the old houses, every block a museum and space ship fired into the bay
the ocean finishes a potrait of new beginings, it is good to get out of the old woods every now and then
splash my feets in puddles of culture shocked
i could spend all day in one spot..
...the pics are emma at my mothers house, emma at the park, emma and mom in a friggin red-wood tree!

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