high fidelity.

wow. being 'twenty-something' sure isn't cool sometimes.

this must be the place.

I'm home, drinking a Cotes du Rhone wine, waiting for him to pick up some Thai dinner and we're going to re-watch Milk, despite the fact that I have to work at 6:30 in the morning. I've been thinking about home a lot, in relation to my life, in relation to how other people interpret their sense of home, and I'm faced with all sorts of versions. I struggled to define what mine was once I left California. "Well, if home is where the heart is, then my home is San Francisco." Easy. Done. But, the more time passes, the less I feel that specific sentiment. I've been away from and come back to Portland several times now and the more I'm away, the better it feels to come home. the more like home it becomes. Maybe I can chalk it up to being spring, and beautiful, and out of control green, or the amazing person I get to come home to, but, this place has never felt more... mine. We're about to watch this movie(again), and i watched some of the extras this morning. This story is about so much more than Harvey Milk. The story is about a time, an energy, and also, about a place. This movie is,obviously, steeped in San Francisco. In the background of an interview with Sean Penn, I see Cafe Trieste, a place that makes my heart melt a little at the thought of. I see directors, actors, and local SF extras standing in front of city hall, the Castro theater and I realized, watching these mini-documentary extras, wiping tears away and wanting to simultaneously hug Sean Penn and Gus Van Zant and Lance Black, that while San Francisco holds a place in my heart

 [David Byrne sang], "Home is where I want to be, but I guess I'm already there."

buzzing.

feeling undeniably good. 

and it ain't just the kenya i'm drinking.

i love buying gifts.

endorphins are natures crack.

the rain ain't got me down.

got my flight fixed without having to be a bitch on the phone.

travel travel travel! makes me happy.

the city is in slow bloom.

this is the most worthless post ever!

as it were

lately, i really enjoy:

 *watching the buds on the trees, frozen, waiting for the temperature to rise.

 *when people who didn't live or grow up in a "big city" are SHOCKED when something is stolen from them, such as, a bike light on their bike, just left there all day for the taking.

 * the super spun creativity i feel while walking home after an amazing cup of coffee & some silence.

 *dogs that get reeeally excited, for no real reason. 

 *the perfect wind chime

 *houses that look like food. (vicki!)

 *seeing my loved ones excited about their creative endeavors, because their energy fuels my own, even in a somewhat dry spell. 

 *walking new streets and seeing new completely unidentifiable plants and flowers.

 *my neighbor's cat. i love her.

 * daydreaming about purchasing a new black dress, and possibly (gasp) new shoes for my little sister's wedding.

 *being excited for jason's wedding.

 *over-thinking, what to pack for France.

 

Uncle Don-isms [updated at random]

Bits of gold, from my uncle, "Blue Eyes and Okie Charm..."

"The buffalo on every nickel he ever spent had already shit because he squeezed it so hard."

"He wouldn't say shit if it was in his mustache."

Dad says, mid-joke, "... one road leads to fame & fortune, and the other road leads to squalor..."  Uncle Don interjects, "OH, thats right down near Pinople!"

old habits living

if i still smoked, 

i'd be

right now

on the porch

rainy, 

blanket wrapped

and

you

might join me

dreaming

a porch, honey hives, dogs, cats, a goat, tomato vines, squash, grapes, citrus trees, chickens, spinach, herb gardens, a quiet spot to hang a hammock, real food from dirty hands, a barn, a bookcase, wind chimes, silence, noise, and onions. and lots and lots of garlic.

4:51pm

The sun is scheduled to go down at 4:51pm today in Portland. 

Inching closer to spring, closer to warm nights, closer to long days and everlasting biking.

yesssssssss.

"light green"

Color me lazy, we receive five channels of cable TV without an antenna. So, after I wake up and make breakfast, sometimes, i perch on the couch and try to find something mindless to watch. This is fairly novel to me because i have not had television in about five years. And now, thanks to the government ( no seriously, I'm happy about this) those five channels will disappear once TV goes digital. SO, I don't feel like a complete wretch watching The View while I eat my hash brown.

Ok, that's a total lie, I feel like a complete wretch and most of the time find myself looking around for someone to yell at. My plants don't deserve the anxiety, so I keep to myself. 

Anyway, this morning, they're talking about how to be "Light Green." Live an eco-friendly lifestyle without, well, really going green... or breaking the bank. This woman comes on and displays all kinds of fruits, vegetables, and meats that you "needn't waste your money on buying organic." Oranges & avocados for instance, they have a hard peel that pesticides don't really penetrate, so WHY spend your money!? Right? Bleh. 

I WISH we could have good, REAL food without spending the extra money, sure. We deserve it. The fact that we've gone so long the way we have is crazy, but unfortunately, I don't think the prices of organic foods will ever go down without support from the communities and larger grocery stores. We need to support organic farming practices not only because it is the right thing to do, and that factory farming really destroys our ability to keep farming; but because if we don't support these practices buy buying organic and local as often as we can, they will continue to be expensive!! 

sigh. 

written things.

... mostly just to move from the myspace blog. not particularly revised or edited.

when it didn't rain

the fog here is different

isn't driven by some oceanic force

or broken by late morning light.

it as if the earth and the ocean

have no means of conveyance

here and the sky

is lost in the middle somewhere

the fog here appears,

and dissipates

with no rhythm

and no relevance

it hangs low, on the river, wetting

and then

is gone.

some temperature related accident.

underfinished

my pockets filled with

moments

memories

pieces of past and 

subterranean places

feeling, inside, an ashen old woman without a cart,

a little boy with cookie crumb secrets.

my pockets packed with sand

bits of earth and ocean

full of words and phrases

breathes and blank spaces,

slipping through the seems

and sliding down my legs.

broken glass and stone slice curious fingers

reaching in and grains of sand stop the bleeding.

there's been guitar echoing through this house nearly day and night for about 42 hours now.

and singing.

and none of it mine. out loud anyway. 

my hair falls out. i wonder if, as i ring them round my fingertips, the long brown tangles abandoning the ship of my head in droves, are lost ideas. each one some midnight, midsnack, midbeer, midsentence inkling of creativity that i let fall away before i rose to get a pen. i have a new pen. 

i also have a new journal. i haven't used it yet. 

barf.

[or, the post JAM haze.]

what it means to have principles. hm.

goals i'd like to have: have a REAL goal. 

plato. philosophy. 

i had some shit to say, i thought. 

lacking words: here's a photo.

woah is...

me? 

damn you! a.mariewilliams. i've written a blog.

or, rather, started a blog. 

hrmph.

wonders

how you really, clean the house.
why my ideas turn to dust, and then end up in little dead clusters under the bed and sofa.
why things hurt one second, and then don't the next. for no reason.
why cheese is so enticing.
why "the shirts i never wear" have their very own hanger in the closet.
how to get rid of things, without acquiring new things.
what's for dinner.
if Fall has really come to Portland on September 1st.
if saving pennies is really all that worth it.
what the hell kind of job i want to get.
and if i can get one i want wit

wires of these streets cris-cross over my heart ...

so, i only cried all the way to... vacaville. which was much further south than i imagined.
i listened to jose gonzalez on the way out of town.

for the first time in my life, while leaving, i felt lost in the bay area as i neared the bridge on 80, heading toward Sacramento. i just didn't remember that bridge. i kept thinking that since i'd been wiping tears for twenty minutes... i could have accidentally veered the wrong way. luckily, not the case... it was just a confusing grey morning. (which now that i think about it... it is fitting that the day we left for portland, it was misting out)
i neared pay station, fished a five from my wallet, sitting shotgun, and slowed up to the booth.
"hi there," i managed to blurt out once i'd stopped. i must have looked distressed because the older middle-eastern man in the tollbooth took one look at me and my packed hatchback and asked, "where you moving to?"
i repeated his question back to him.
"yes, it looks like you are moving."
...oh yeah, i'm moving....
"yes i am... i'm headed up to oregon actually."
he held out my change and when i went to grab it, he didn't let go.
"you have a nice day," he looked me right in the eyes when he said it, "and good luck."
i gave him a thin lipped nod, a "thank you", a "you too", turned to look out the windshield, and put the car into gear. i looked back at him one more time. again, he looked right in my eyes and gave me a reassuring nod. i thanked him again, and pulled away.

i think he made the whole trip. some kind of good omen or something.