As Seen Through Sunny's Eyes

pieces of an unfinished painting

2010-01-16T17:13:00.000-08:00

There is more to be done before this piece is complete, but I wanted to save the individual pieces, as they are each so unique.

pieces of my unfinished art

2010-01-16T17:11:00.000-08:00

There is more to be done before this piece is complete, but I wanted to save the individual pieces, as they are each so unique.

Pieces of my work in progress

2010-01-16T17:10:00.000-08:00

There is more to be done before this piece is complete, but I wanted to save the individual pieces, as they are each so unique.

pieces of my work in progress

2010-01-16T17:09:00.000-08:00

There is more to be done before this piece is complete, but I wanted to save the individual pieces, as they are each so unique.

Parts of my new artwork - unfinished

2010-01-16T17:07:00.000-08:00

There is more to be done before this piece is complete, but I wanted to save the individual pieces, as they are each so unique.

Sunny and Brandon Baking

2009-12-22T15:27:00.000-08:00

I'm taking Brandon to my friend, Joe's, house tonight for cookie baking. We'll put on an old movie, make some hot chocolate with marshmallows, and bake cookies.

I'm loving spending time with my main man, Brandon. What a great kid.

--Update. We made the cookies. They were Jewish cookies. Brandon commented later that they were Kikies. Lol!

Lessons Learned

2009-11-10T08:31:00.000-08:00

There was a post here by the same title, but I've chosen to take it down. When I wrote it, I felt very strongly about the subject and needed an outlet, which is exactly what this blog is for me. But it wouldn't be the first time I've gone back and read a post, and decided better of keeping it up. Not that my feelings weren't valid in the first place, but what I felt was just as ugly, if not uglier, than what had happened.

For a While

2009-10-22T12:56:00.000-07:00

My palate is thick
With the fishy oil
Of recently eaten lies.
This calls for a stringent wine.
Bring on the tannens.
Refresh my palate, and my hope.
And let me remember the god -awful taste
Of your words for a while.

My skull is nearly
Bursting from the presure
So charictaristic of denial.
How hard it is to accept the facts
About those inevitables
That comprise a personal truth.
Drill me a hole where your poisons
Can escape for a while.

I welcome the bitter sweet
Flavor of love lost
But this only bitter is biting.
Better I litter the world with your name.
And I will. And I will not...
Taste
Or believe
For a while.

Part-Time Literary Firecracker

2009-08-13T18:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Part-Time Literary Firecracker, Yuri:

I love that you write to me. In reading you, I am reminded of someone else I once knew, many lifetimes ago, who is the other of only two men I have known in my life to pour themselves out in words. Needless to say, apart from the impression you make in a way that is all your own, there is a positive association there that can only benefit you. If you have a blog, I must read it.

You can write me here, at work, during the day. Until your fingers are smashed flat at the ends. When I can, I will enjoy responding.

Risks are good. YES is good.

Soot in my ears? Well, speaking strictly in steam punk terms, if one is experiencing tiny explosions in the brain, one would likely have soot in the ears, and thus find the need for miniature chimney sweeps to provide a regular dusting service. They'd hang off the earlobe dressed in conductor's overalls, like window cleaners on a skyscraper, working to the tune of Yellow Submarine…

Unless of course, as you pointed out, one is burning pure ethanol, in which case, no soot. I think I like the sooty-eared-mad-scientist-with-the-brain-exploding-at-regular-intervals picture though. It's ridiculous and hysterical. Inevitably, he’s a bobble-headed sort of creature whose hat never stays on.

As for moss, that's a completely different metaphor, and I have collected some. I have a diverse and colorful past, full of languages, art, life, and movement. But at some point I realized that I ceased becoming and became. Rare and fortunate, or incredibly tortured, is the soul who never becomes, but is in a perpetual state of becoming. Sure, there are little changes, but I realized—with a degree of relief—that the fluidity of my dreams has become the solidity of my reality. I have to be ok with that, or I will always live in a condition of denial about what really is, seeing myself as I once hoped to be, and not as I am. The state of post-acceptance is a great state. The absence of struggle frees up brain power, the eyelids relax, the brow releases, color rushes back to the knuckles, sensation returns to the fingertips, tension in the neck melts away allowing for a full range of motion.

There is some moss on the soles of my feet; My pedicurist shoots me curious looks. I try to walk it off, but I have come to live in the United States of Milk and Honey (though I hate myself for it), where moss grows on the soles of nearly everyone’s feet. I try to tell her she should be used to it by now. She’s not. She’s Vietnamese. People don’t have that problem in her country.

So, based on yours and my description of me, I’m a desert-dwelling, sooty-eared, mossy-footed, hobbit-like creature with passengers (on my wave), who somehow manages to remain fabulous. Did I miss anything?

Hee hee.

Moi

PS: sorry about your kitty.

Summer Tease

2009-08-01T14:21:00.000-07:00

From a distance, he flashed a look that said,

I smell of hot coconut oil on a summer beach,
And taste of passion fruit juice, freshly squeezed.
I think you’d like a little of both…

Shaking the sand from his towel, he headed my way.

My friend, Yuri, screwed around with this and came up with the following:

"I read over some of your blog. Mostly the shorter ones because I was rushing a little
at the moment. The first one I have enjoyed the most thus far. I modified it for the
occasion [My humblest apologies]:

From a distance, he flashed a look that said,

I smell of burning Sobranies on a Saint Petersburg Street,
And taste of Stolichnaya and burning diesel.
I think you could use a little of both…

Slamming the boot of his rusted Lada, he headed my way."

I like Yuri's version better. Not only is it amazing, it's...less gay. Lol!--Though I'm sure Sargas would disagree.

Exasperated

2009-07-18T06:49:00.000-07:00

The sky, just now, is black
This raincoat worn and old
It wouldn't do me good, besides
I hardly feel the cold.

I do not care for comfort
I would not know its face
Leave me now to walk alone
Until I reach that place.

This Is Our Millennium!

2009-07-18T06:46:00.000-07:00

We sit together in the dark;
The hour late, the others gone.
With shutters shut and curtains drawn
We whisper secrets none will hark
For years to come. And years to go,
Sealed with a monarch's ring,
Test our limits by conjuring
Ruin that we shall someday know.
And grief that nearly overcomes
From future pages states its claim.
But if we, united, show no shame,
This is our millennium!

New Years 1999-2000

Old Ballantines

2009-07-18T06:43:00.000-07:00

Oh, whiskey, soul of plays and pranks,
Accept a barty's grateful thanks.
For lying warmed upon my floor
Because of thee I hurt no more.

I find in thee sweet depths of gold
That lead me to forget we're old.
And humming softly to my room
I close my mind and drown the gloom.

I hold you, Scotland, near my breast,
For your invention, aye, has blessed,
Many a man with lonely tale,
Ruined state and courage pale.
Turned mice to men and men to pour,
On thee reflecting, I drink some more.

In Front Of Me

2009-07-18T06:41:00.000-07:00

In front of me the open way,
The kiss of spring, the joy of play.
The mist upon a lonely loch,
Are spirits waking from their sleep.
On yonder green a shepherd's flock
Of wooly, white, and wobbly sheep.

In front of me the open sky,
The psalm of life, the peace to die.
I am content to breathe this air,
And gather Heather as I go.
To not know why and just not care
Is, perhaps, a knowing, though.

More Pick Me!

2009-07-07T22:39:00.001-07:00

Pick Me!

2009-07-07T22:35:00.001-07:00

Today

2009-07-04T15:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I woke up mine,
A crazy in a cavalcade
of lazy men and bad design.

But not so today.

"Life", by Christopher Rudow

2009-06-29T15:11:00.001-07:00

This is a repost from my friend's blog (TY Chris). I loved it.

Life

It's shiny cars, wistful eyes and roast beef for dinner. It's chaos, and harmony and water balloon fights, and words you can't take back. It's tears of joy and pain and feelings you can't explain. It's questions and answers and "I don't knows". It's the rise and fall of civilizations and stock markets and kids on trampolines - It's finding true love, losing it, and finding it all over again. It's music and sensation and touchdowns and chocolate. It's spirituality, and inspiration, and money, and traffic jams - It's disaster, and heroism, and paper clips, and knowing when to breathe - It's flirting, and tasting, and curiosity. It's fast, and it's slow, and it's rising and falling. It's every moment, every hope, every dream, every piece of the cosmic puzzle. It's life. And it's yours.

Me and the Ace Bus

2009-05-28T10:41:00.000-07:00

Kiddie Rides

2009-05-26T11:25:00.000-07:00

You say "take it slow..
Cool your jets, and don’t get carried away, and
Don’t be so eager".

You might as well be speaking Greek, because I don't get how it can be unacceptable to:
Like you too much
Or too quickly
Or too freely
Why would you want less of me when all I can give is already a hundred miles away?

It's just not me.
It will never be me.
I have tried to be distant, because I might be able to protect myself that way, or so my friends say...
And because I want you to chase, as you should, but
No matter how many times I’m broken hearted and set back,
Once I recover, find you, and accept you…
I run to you. I don’t tip toe. It's not written into my programming.

The truth is, I don't want to play it cool.
I won't buy into the hype and harden my heart
It's more important for me to live life to its fullest
Than to protect myself from the hurt.

I can deal with hurt.
I can't deal with pretending.

This embracing of life, this speed at which I can adjust, is my gift to the right person.
Aren't there enough people out there playing it cool, keeping you at a distance?
If it’s not your pace
Than maybe you’re in the wrong line.
There’s no shame in changing lines--for me or for you.
There are other lines.
For other rides.

Kiddie rides.

SM 2009

Hello from Across the world

2009-05-11T21:53:00.000-07:00

Note: The Ecuadorian keyboards had weird symbols in different places, and placement of the standard keys was slightly different, so I was hitting all kinds of weird symbols. Whenever I went for the Shift key, I'd get < instead. As a result I stayed away from the shift key. I wanted to leave the text below as it was, but that symbol is part of HTML coding and was screwing everything up, so I took them out...mostly.

"...There will be all sorts of funny symbols in this letter, I´m sure (the shift makes this < mark), but it´s an experience... [Brandon and I] went to a great little Argentine restaurant tonight with friends, and all that was lacking, after the most scrumpcious steak i´ve ever eaten, was you. it's a good time to be alive. No, I´m not correcting the stupid keyboard symbols. I think it makes for an authentic experience. lol.

We saw this amazing gothic cathedral today, saw the house where i spent some time at the age of 7, saw a park I remember from that time where we used to climb all over old tractors...parke Carolina. It feels like this experience comes on the heels of you/us and is a continuation of the transcendental path I recently turned on to. Still feel like i´m in a dream sometimes. amazing and so pure and simple at the same time. best things in life are free. well, sort of. I think I´m spending like $2200.00on this trip. lol.

oh! And they use American dollars here! How easy is that..where is the question mark... so yeah, looking foward to seeing you again. i´m in a hostel right now with no phone really, and i can´t us my cell or i´ll get hit with huge international calling fees. i´ll look into a phone card tomorrow... so no talking for now.

Where is that confounded question mark?

2009-05-11T21:46:00.000-07:00

Upon arriving in Quito, the only thing I recognized was the smell of the air. Apparently we´re very high above sea level here, in the Andes Mountains, and so the air is thin as well. Brandon, who was jumping around, felt it immediately and was out of breath.

I never did, despite climbing a huge flight of stairs all the way to the bell tower of a cathedral. That was something else and I have pix. Wow! Scared me half to death being that high up. lol. not the height, really, but being there with Brandon and his eagerness to get as close to the edge as possible. God. lol!

When we were driving around I recognized what in my memory was a huge round wall, part of a mall called CCNU, and I suddenly remembered this reoccurring nightmare I used to have about it as a child. I dreamed that I had a purse and someone had hung it on that wall. Used to have that dream a lot. Got out of the car, touched the wall, thought of the dream...let it go. I guess I mentally found what I had lost. Childhood? (found the question mark!)

When we landed yesterday, we went straight to the street I used to live on 25 years ago. There was the old yellow Hotel Savoy, still standing and operating, and across the street, about 8 possible houses that I could have lived in. We rang the bell on the the one I felt the most recognition for, but the lady who answered said that house had never been rented since it has been build some 30 years ago. I think she´s mistaken. I took pix of all 8 and will send them to my Dad and see what he says.

In any case, it was surreal.

The street seemed so small, the houses so...normal sized. lol. I saw the house down the street where I had been bitten by a big dog while taking out the trash.

Brandon and I spent the night at this hostel last night. Two people for 28 bucks. Clean, hot water, decently comfortable beds, center of town, etc. Slept ok.

Today we leave for Banos (that´s an ¨n¨ with a squiggle above it) where we´ll do white water rafting for most of the afternoon, then hike up a volcano and look inside, and a few other once in a life time things.

Brandon seems to be enjoying himself. They´ll serve breakfast here at 8, so I´d better go wake him.

Dits that I can sometimes be...

2009-05-11T21:33:00.000-07:00

More parts from e-mails to someone who was important at the time:

Dits that I can sometimes be, I did not bring a notebook, or any kind of recording machine, and I´m finding that I´m having all these realizations and experiences that I wish I was writing down. So, I´ll write them to you, and have them in my sent box for later.

There is this little family staying here in this Hostel with us, whom we got to know a little about at breakfast. They are from South Africa and have two kids, Keanna and Max, who are nine and five respectively. They´re traveling around the world in a sail boat, and before here were in Panama. They´ve been going for two years so far. I admired the parents for giving their kids such a great start in life. Nothing can compare to a world view and education in relating to human kind on their own level, in their own countries.

I guess it made me a little more understanding and thankful for my parents´ decision to raise us this way. I´ll have to thank them when I get back. It was a lot of work to drag so many kids around the world over and over. I guess they did it mainly because they felt it was their ¨calling¨. That´s what I always thought at least.

Keanna and Max are cute and smart. I asked Max where he was before this, and if he knew where he was now. He had no clue. That confirmed my experience yesterday, where I realized that at that age, when I last lived here, one has no grasp of the big picture. What you remember at that age are things that stand out, individual items that you held in your hands, things that were in front of your face. There is no wide angle, really.

Their mother asked me how it was growing up traveling that way. I explained, mainly, that it was great. I said that I think the only down side is that I have a hard time settling down, but that maybe settling down isn´t necessarily a must anyway. Who knows? I mean, I can certainly settle down to some extent, and have, but in my heart, I´m always wanting to discover something new. Even if that "something new" is internal, and not external, I will never settle to a point where I feel like I´ve arrived and now I´m going to be some Stepford Wife. Gah! Who wants one of those anyway?

Traveling is important to me now because it keeps me grounded, in touch with the reality that the rest of the world, most of the world, experiences. Living in the US might be what I have to do to give Brandon the "stability" I never had (still not convinced he needs that), and maybe allow me to own property, and eventually be set up for retirement, etc, but I feel so far removed from the earth there, among the frozen, protected, and complacent masses.

As I was showering this morning I had a bit of an epiphany. Tell me what you think. I was thinking about A New Earth, and the idea of identifying with things and making them part of the "I". ...You saw in my appartment that I have very little from the past, pretty much everything I have is new. I have had to live off so little many times, never had much to call my own, and when it was "mine" I was required to give it away or give it up when we moved.

Growing up communally, I had to share all of my things, so found it was counterproductive to make any of those things part of my identity. They could come, they could go. I´d be me. My body, however, is another matter. I identify with my body. My weight has always been a huge issue. Up and down, etc., and the giving of my body to another was something I always had control over. So anyway, the epiphany was that I think I have an easier time of living in the present and being who and what I am now because I´m not as attached to physical "stuff" as most people are. [My identity is mostly made up of qualities and traits I possess inside.] I just haven't had the opportunity to become attached.

So maybe, in that respect, my parents did me a favor. Maybe [they] got that part right. Keeping you constantly guessing keeps you from getting too attached to anything, and therefore allows you to constantly reevaluate what "I" means. There is no question though, that I have an identity, an "ego" (blasted foreign symbols) that is comprised of "other", perhaps less possessions than attitudes and behaviors...

Was that clear, or clear as mud? Lol! All of this self-discovery, with you, feels so right. There is a time and season for everything and this is definitely my time and season to see myself as I truly am. Naked soul. I have some layers to get through, but I´m on my way. I am so excited for all that we share, and all that we will share, and how we can strengthen each other and awaken awareness in each other.

Life has never felt so real. I am daily living in a glass of clarity, somehow able to see myself without shame, perhaps because I know there is someone out there who sees me as I am, and loves me. In the end, that´s our main concern as humans, to love and be loved, right? If we are already loved, what else is there but a chance to be truly honest with ourselves about who we are.

Well, we have both been getting there on our own before we met, but this is certainly a wonderful push in the right direction.

In Banos

2009-05-11T21:28:00.000-07:00

We´re in Banos right now. Brandon and Miguel went ATV riding last night for an hour while I relaxed in the room at the hostel that we stayed at for 8 bucks per person. Bluest room you ever will see! lol! I thought I´d wake up blue for sure. Nope. I´m good. Today white-water rafting in wet suits. Supposedly, we will fall in and there´s nothing we can do about it. It´s fucking cold too. I bought Brandon and I new leather jackets yesterday. 72 bucks total for two jackets. nice. Mine is so light. Ate some more great food. I guess I like this food because it´s what I grew up on. There are memories everywhere. I had naranjilla juice today. That took me back, boy.

Well, my 15 mins are almost up so I´m going to sign off for now.

Back from Banos

2009-05-11T21:26:00.000-07:00

More about our Ecuador trip:

Today we drove back from Banos. I have a cold and had a fever last night so I´m taking it easy today. When we got back into town, Brandon and I found another hostel and will spend the night here tonight, leaving for Guayaquil in the morning and staying there Wednesday, coming back Thursday. Then it´s off to the beach at Esmeraldas for that fashion show that Brandon is gaga about. Lol! He´s been pimpin´big time here. It´s all about the ladies. Lol! Funny boy. We went to the ¨middle of the world¨, or mitad del mundo, today and got a pix of Brandon standing on the dividing line of the equator. One foot on either side. Pretty cool. I did that when I was 7 or so. So now he can say he´s been in both hemispheres simultaneously. Great pick up line. Not geek at all. No.

Tonight we´re going to take a cable car up to the top of a nearby mountain and get pictures of Quito from there. Hope they come out good and that we still have some sunset.

More than the sum of your parts

2009-05-11T21:22:00.000-07:00

Thoughts on sanity, sums, and parts...

When you said, ¨more than the sum of your parts¨ at the end of ur e-mail, I nearly fell off my chair. Lol! I was talking to myself yesterday, as I sometimes do (hee hee), about you. Verbalizing. I find it is a good technique to help me sort out what I really own and what is simply part of the unending thought tree in my head. When it comes to my mind I hear it, I examine it, and then if I really own it, I say it. Don´t know when I started doing that. Anyway, there we were, me and myself, having a little convo about you over tea and crumpets, its culmination being that, as a person, you are so much more than the sum of your parts. That was what I took with me from that little moment of borderline personality. Lol! Conventional sanity is not all its cracked up to be. Ha!

Guayaquil and Pearl Ceremonies

2009-05-11T20:17:00.000-07:00

I'm gleaning some excerpts from letters I wrote to a friend during my trip to Ecuador last year.

Today, Brandon and I travel alone to Guayaquil. I´m a little nervous to be traveling alone, as a woman, but I know all the travel safety rules and I´m sure we´ll be fine. It´s an eight-hour bus ride. When we get there, we´ll find a hotel or hostel.
Tomorrow I plan to take Brandon to the Quichua Indian Market and buy some souvenirs. Then go and find the old house I lived in when I was nine. Some pretty rotten stuff happened in that house...
I started this thing a few years ago called a pearl ceremony, though ceremony is too elaborate a word, it is a little rite of sorts. A pearl starts out as a grain of sand, right, that gets into the abalone and irritates it. In order to eliminate the irritation, the abalone covers this irritation in mother of pearl, and slowly, it becomes a little wrapped package that the abalone carries with it where ever it goes. It doesn´t have any way of spitting out the sand, or the pearl, but it finds a way to live with it and even create beauty out of what could have been disastrous for its soft meat.
Well, I too have wrapped my grains of sand in mother of pearl, and occasionally I have a welcome opportunity to let the whole protective package go. A few years ago I bought a little bag of natural pearls. It didn´t cost much. And from time to time, the opportune moment arises where I can imbue one with some hurt I have felt, and let that pearl go, as a sign that I have moved on. So, in Guayaquil, I will leave a pearl, the last one from that bag, in fact, at my old house. I will take a moment, think about it, and then just lay it down and walk away.
So, this should be a very interesting experience. My ¨burden¨ will be a little bit lighter on my way home. And when I see you next, I´ll be that much freer.
I wish I could help people learn some of these little methods that have helped me move on and come to a good place.
(And from another email)
P.S. We found my old house. There it was. Smaller than I remembered it. Old and torn up. Same landlady still living there after 23 years. I took a few pictures, but they wouldn´t let us inside. What a trip it was to be there again...

Dating is like prospecting

2009-05-06T10:27:00.000-07:00

A note to women:

From my sales point of view, dating is like prospecting: success is in the numbers. After a break up, when you can't get far enough away from sex and love, that's the time to start dating again--platonicaly. Because when those "boys are icky" feelings finally wear off, chances are you'll have hooked a high potential and you'll be right back on track.

Intimacy aversion is nature's way of taking the mind-clouding physical component out of the way so we can get back to the female evolutionary directive: be verrrry picky--then multiply.

Not only do we need to begin to face our fears, rubbing the sensitive skin to create a callous, and sifting the life-changing lessons from the hurt which we must leave in the past, but it's good to get back out there as an affirmation. Action comes before manifestation.

Action is the fairy god mother of happiness.

My profile from Match.com (I thought it was amusing, so posted it here)

2009-04-20T18:26:00.000-07:00

(This was not my profile for long. It was TMI on crack. Lol! But it was still fun to write.)

I have a dry wit and satirical, sometimes dark, sense of humor, an optimistic outlook on life, tempered with just a pinch of vitriolic cynicism. I can be goofy and geeky, and I don’t mind if the only person I’m entertaining is myself. I’m cerebral, a born teacher, long winded, sensual, conscious of my surroundings, artistic, musical, and an adjuster of paradigms. I’m lucid, lambent, and lusciously ludicrous. I’m also passive aggressive, however I temper that by being a flasher.

I was born in Vancouver, delivered by midwife at home to hippy parents who had already chosen a Japanese name for their first child. Then to Colombia, Ecuador, Venezuela, Peru, Argentina, and Chile. I lived in Japan for 18 years. I have lived in a total of 20 countries and speak English, Japanese, and Spanish. No, not military, missionary! There’s a topic that always get the party started. I’m the eldest of 8 children.

I have a son who is barking hormonally at the door of adolescence. He’s a good kid. His dad and I go one week on, one week off. It’s a peaceful arrangement.

I’m a singer and always will be. I will break out in song in front of almost anyone, if the mood strikes me. Sometime I don’t even realize I’m singing. Not currently being paid as such, but spent many years as a professional singer/song-writer. I play guitar, write poetry (which you’ll find plastered indiscriminately all over my blog), paint, crochet, sew, and much more. I’m an independent woman. I Google.

I recently laughed at Fries on the Side and gave a standing ovation to Jamie & The Fine, Feathered Fiends. I love flowers as a gesture, but feel that your money is better spent on something lasting. I believe that gifts don’t need to be expensive; they need to be thoughtful, and sometimes the best gift is a word spoken at just the right time. I don’t take advantage of men for their money, but I despise stinginess. My love language is words of affirmation. I love Annie’s Song and Bright Eyes and believe in foreplay.

I’ve been living in the US now for six years, and have been in the Southern California desert all that time. You know the saying, “What happens in Vegas…”? Well, what happens in the desert…nothing happens in the desert.

Ok, that’s not entirely true. You can get stuck going 35MPH behind a two-person pickup carrying four passengers in 120 degree heat and towing a dilapidated landscaping trailer with rakes and hoses hanging out of it like hemorrhoids.

Other exciting desert activities: dodging tumble weed in my car during a March desert hurricane, deceptively called Santa Ana “winds”. Drinking water. Pointing excitedly the first ten times a roadrunner crosses the street in front of you. Drinking more water. Looking on lazily as a coyote carries away somebody’s Chihuahua in its jaws. Looking for water. Asking your friends what they do in their free time. They drink water too.

Out here, among the creosote bushes and Joshua Trees, I have my pick of guys who call girls “Mami” and wear white socks up to their knees, guys with amateur ink who are cultivating a follicular garden not unlike that of Serj Tankian from System of a Down (sorry Serj), and quad racers with a vocabulary that consists almost entirely of words that are meant to be spoken with accompanying hand gestures.

I am a little off the beaten path so that’s what I’m hoping to find in a partner. Somebody who is mentally switched on, quixotic, open, and truly strong. Someone who has overcome, has life experience, travel experience, vision, passion, confidence, and flexibility. Maybe you’re European, maybe Indian. Maybe you’re an ecologist who secretly delights in the city lights, or maybe you’re a city slicker who recycles bicycles. Maybe you’re a little bit trippy and a little bit hippy but you can also knock their socks off in an interview. You inspire, aspire, and conspire. You know who you are. You are comfortable with love; comfortable with a woman who wants you all the time. For real.

Little Pieces of Me

2009-04-06T21:32:00.000-07:00

I have heard it said that we leave little pieces of ourselves behind as we endure heartbreak, but this is the first time I really felt like I lost a good chunk of me. I guess, if I were in a better mood, I’d be compelled to say that on the flip side we pick up new pieces as we go, so there’s a general equilibrium. But what if you are losing larger, more meaningful pieces than what you picked up. At some point you could, in theory, become a person full of holes. A Swiss cheese slice of your former self. Not even the whole wheel. Just a slice.

I know I have.

Only the pain of losing a child is greater than the pain of realizing you are no longer loved. I know what it feels like to be loved, and then tossed aside, like last season’s fashion. Thing is, last season’s wardrobe went out of style because above the knee was no longer in, or pink became the new red. But I don't know why I went out of style, only that I suddenly did.

Maybe shit just happens. We just fall in love randomly, and we fall out of love just as randomly. Maybe he’s just a shmuck or a putz and I oughtta stop shvitzin’ about it and just consider it a mitzvah that it ended now rather than later. Oy!

We are born randomly to random parents, we are held and hit randomly, and in the end we die randomly. There is no order. There is no bashert. There is no selfless love, only self love that welcomes the addition of another’s attention, creating an even greater amount of love focused toward the self—a “fan club” as it were. There is no god, and god is not love, but that’s old hat, forgodsakes.

We are sad wet creatures who produce keratin and bile, forever doomed to be led about at the nose by our impulses, attracted between snorts to other wet creatures because of pheromones that we don’t understand, can’t detect, and can’t immunize ourselves against. Then, as females, we compulsively pick and choose and nag and expect and demand, because that’s our evolutionary directive. We’re supposed to be genetically picky, and though men fuss about it, they also look down on the ones who aren’t--as defective “sluts”. And the men, well they fuck, don’t they? Their single driving force is the next conquest. Men build pyramids and put other men’s heads on platters for a piece of ass. I think I’d want to die if I was a man who couldn’t get it up any more. Just put me out in the wild naked and leave me there for the wolves. What else is there? It’s no coincidence we call them “fuckers”. They’re not men. Just hairier creatures who secrete more fluids and grunt louder.

Of course, like any pathetic heart-broken “why-ing” broad, I muse of him reading this one day, and sending me a checked off list of all the reasons he found me unlovable. But do I really want to know? Do I want him to say, “I stopped loving you because you weren’t enough like my mother, you weren’t Jewish, and you didn’t have my passion for Burning Man”? Fact is, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would be different. I am who I am. He is who he is.

So there goes eight months. At 33, each month is precious. Waste my time at 35, I’ll take your left ball when I go. Sweartagod.

Now that this is over, a fog is lifting. I was starting to feel irrational because he was convincing me that what I was feeling was “overreacting” all the time. It was my gut telling me exactly what he was thinking, and I just didn’t listen to it. Because I wanted so badly to be loved. And he let me stay because he wanted to keep bawling me. Ok, benefit of the doubt: he tried. He was never really in love with me to begin with. It was too quick. I love bombed him. He had no choice but to cave. He followed instinct. Fear won.

...

Now, it’s about me. I’ve got to get my shit sorted out. Get strong. Get centered. Figure out what I want and which direction to go. I’ve got to be ok by myself first, or I will just lose myself in the next pretty face. I’ve never been jaded in love before, but I have to admit I am right now. I am one of those vitriolic bitches who says men are dogs. If one so much looks at me sideways I’ll make him rue the day. But that vehemence will pass. The pain will abate, and I will eventually fall prey to some new fucker with a camper, a geodesic dome, some Fresh & Easy coleslaw, a philosophy book, the world’s best smile, and the softest kisses anyone ever felt.

Most of all, right now, I miss those kisses.

Self-discovery

2009-04-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

"You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself."

"Endurance is frequently a form of indecision."

"The value of identity, of course, is that so often with it comes purpose."

Update, for the benefit of the McNairs

2009-03-30T10:45:00.001-07:00

Quite frankly, and somewhat disappointingly, but also conveniently, I believe this blog is relatively unread. I think my sister reads it from time to time and hopefully she's doing her due diligence and passing on the updates to my parents and other siblings in Japan. Beats writing them all, especially since all but Florence have a genetic "thing" that keeps them at least 10' from a keyboard.

So, the guy I was with for the last eight months stopped loving me, so we broke up. That happened just over a week ago, and I've been a mess because, I hate to say it, but I really really loved him. Dispite the crap I put up with, and dispite his weaknesses, I blindly believed in us and threw myself in all the way. The fog is clearing today, allowing for me to work on my tan, and I'll be just fine, as always. I'd like to say I'm all Romans 8:28 about it (there's a little nod to my heritage), but not yet. Like any girl, I hope that he realises what he's lost. Sadly, I'm quite sure he's not wasting a single thought on me while he's out partying in LA and living it up with his millions of friends, so I've determined to stop wasting any more energy on what's lost, and focus on myself, my son, and our future. I wish him peace of mind. Aaaand, yes, hence the haircut. End of story.

A.S., whom I've told some of you about over the years, and who had a profound effect on my psyche and life over the last nine years, is no longer in the picture, and I guess never will be. I'm surprised that never came to fruition, because it felt right, but timing is everything, and sometimes a fantasy is just a fantasy, and impossible to transition into real egg-eating, sock-matching, car-washing life. People have to find their own way out of unhappiness in their own time, and any nudging can make you look like the bad guy. I wish him only happiness. Think Sara Bareilles "Gravity". End of story.

Emmanuel and I are, as ever, friends and co-parents. We consider eachother, and look out for eachother. Nothing more. End of story.

So, for the first time, in my life--ever--I am just me, as far as relationships go. Living alone, though part of the time with Brandon. It's nice to have him around. He's a blessing, a distraction when I need it, and a wonderful child, who needs lots of love and cuddles, and whom I've neglected a little because I've been so wrapped up in my emotional bullshit for so freaking long. I'm ashamed to say that when my ex bf didn't accept Brandon completely, I didn't dump him immediately. Not to self: won't do that again.

My brother, Sam, is now living and working here in Palm Springs (that was a long time in coming). He got a job as a server, soon to be manager, at Okura, one of our local Japanese restaurants. Other than the sushi chef, he's the only person who speaks Japanese. The restaurant is actually Korean owned, and serves Asian fusion, not really authentic Japanese. But I had a nice Kirin beer last night when I ate there with my friend, Kristina, and they gave us "service": mochi ice-cream, creme brulee, and chocolate mousse! Brandon and JC, Kristina's son, loved it! Sam's in his element there, consorting with the guests, and I think the management are fast becoming aware that they've got a power house on their staff.

My work is going good. The Hotel is popular and full on the weekends. Brandon and I still want to transition to LA at some point, and we're just waiting for the right time and the right opportunity. Emmanuel's stuck to the house that he owns and can't sell in this market, so we're considering the implications of Emmanuel and I being in different cities.

I have been getting a few moments of lyrical inspiration here and there, but nothing much else of artistic substance is flowing from me right now. I've been crocheting, but that's more like a distraction than an art in my book.

I feel good things around the corner. I'm looking forward to being alone for a while, getting to know myself, playing a little "who am I?" and being a better friend to the people who have been my friends for a long time.

And that's about it, dears and darlings. I leave you with the Heart Sutra (the "mantra that calms all suffering") that is my new tattoo: Gone, gone, gone beyond, completely gone beyond. Basically, leave it in the past, Lucy!

I love you :)

My New Hair - for the benefit of the McNairs in Japan who aren't on Facebook (all of them)

2009-03-30T10:40:00.000-07:00

Authentic Ponderings and Realizations

2009-03-30T10:32:00.000-07:00

(A work in progress)

3/30
This could be the window
that opened when the
doors closed.
This could be
the win that we
get
when we least
expect it.

3/30
Lies reveal truths because people tell them for a reason.

3/30
It's easy to find a way to die, but a lot harder to find a way to live.

4/1
One day, I would like to know what home feels like.

3/31
(Facebook quip of the day)
Sunny: Random strangers open doors for me all day every day; dates and boyfriends, almost never. What's wrong with this picture?
Ken: Date more random strangers.

4/2
If I'm with the right person, and not too old by the time that happens, and we can afford to let me be a full-time mom, I'd like to have two more kids.

Shin and Sunny

2009-03-17T07:23:00.000-07:00

In the photo booth at Ace Hotel

My Talented Friend, Shane

2009-03-12T21:48:00.000-07:00

Click on photo-link for his youtube site and listen to some of his accoustic guitar work.

Bad Dreams

2009-03-12T18:27:00.000-07:00

you had a dream i knew too well
and in your dream you went to hell
and there i was, a bidding fiend
terrorizing as i went
from bog to bog, and vent to vent
dropping little tortures down.

though devil-bent, and shameless, too
i sometimes--often--thought of you
i wished you'd come to rescue me--
what good remained--and
put me in recovery. cool my lips.
wash away the stain of blood
and give me back my wings.

but there you were, ashen-faced
your knuckles white, your saving grace
lost in this death-inducing night.
see me now, in disbelieving resignation,
as I am: sharp as ice, and just as cool.
you're not a valient prince today
but just another broken fool
among millions of broken hearted fools.

i cannot pardon and send you back,
not that you deserve it.
instead, for that which we once shared
I would not let you suffer, so i'll
smother you, as i would with love.

"Gravity"

~sunny 3/09

Recent Quotes

2009-02-28T12:11:00.000-08:00

“I was born to learn, to grow, to expand, to love, to create, to enjoy, to see the beauty in all things including myself... But I was NOT born to be perfect.”

“Do everything. Love as much as you can. it may hurt but it helps us grow. Give all you have...you may be poor but you will be content. Always forgive....your heart can not afford not to. Teach what you know and learn what you don't. Stay open to all”

“Sometimes you have to grow farther apart to keep growing together.”

“Our inner strengths, experiences, and truths cannot be lost, destroyed, or taken away. Every person has an inborn worth and can contribute to the human community. We all can treat one another with dignity and respect, provide opportunities to grow toward our fullest lives and help one another discover and develop our unique gifts. We each deserve this and we all can extend it to others.”

“Art is a deliberate recreation of a new and special reality that grows from your response to life. It cannot be copied; it must be created.”

“Develop a passion for learning. If you do, you will never cease to grow.”

“The universe is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.”

“People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously. This is how character is built.”

“If every day is an awakening, you will never grow old. You will just keep growing.”

Untitled

2009-02-12T14:52:00.000-08:00

In the brick and plaster
In the rain
Where I don't plan it
But it happens anyway
And washes me out to sea
To see
You in my room
In the afterglow
Content because.

After all these years.
After all these years.

A quote that I liked

2009-01-03T10:18:00.001-08:00

Do not believe that he who seeks to comfort you lives untroubled among the simple and quiet words that sometimes do you good. His life has much difficulty... Were it otherwise he would never have been able to find those words. --Rainer Maria Rilke (1875 - 1926)

Christmas Past is Past

2008-12-26T14:03:00.000-08:00

I decorated the tree, and what a great Christmas we had! Elliot, my boyfriend, was here, and our wonderful friends, Aleck and Inessa, came to Palm Springs and hung out for dinner and drinks. My brother, Sam, was here, and brought his son, Tyler, who had no idea that his Daddy is boinking Shannan, who also joined us. And might I say, whipped up a feast (chai, salsa, biscuits, guacamole, hot chocolate, and more)! She was like Mary Poppins, pulling one thing after another out of her bag of tricks that she'd brought from home. Spices, baking soda, flour, vegetables, etc. I've never seen anything like it. I made the salad, the mashed potatos, the stuffing, and the butternut squash with cinnamon and brown sugar, and Elliot baked the turkey in under two hours! Yep. He cut it up and then baked it. Nice job, Baby!

And last, but not least, my son, well-behaved Brandon, was with us, of course. His Dad, Emmanuel, is at Loma Linda hospital, recovering from his second open heart surgery (otherwise we'd have had Xmas dinner with him). The first time they only made a 4" incision, but this time they gutted him like a fish, and he's got a scar all the way from his collar bone to just above his belly button. I don't know why they needed to be so severe. Anyway, the surgery, last Friday, went as planned: all seven-and-a-half hours of it. They replaced his entire aorta, valve included, and part of the heart muscle itself, with what's called a homograft, which is from a cadaver. It should last 10-20 years, after which he'll have to go through this whole procedure again. Aye-yai-yai.

Emmanuel picked up a bacterial infection, staphylococcus hominis, that entered his heart and infected the area around the previously replaced heart valve (March 2006). They're thinking it might have entered his body through the mouth because he's had braces for the last 8 months or so, and the orthodontist ought to have been administering preventative antibiotics before each treatment, but was not. So the braces, it seems, will be coming off, in favor of the more costly option, Invisalign, but at this point, the majority of the work is done on his teeth, and he's into the detail stage now. It will be so nice when he had straight teeth. He deserves it.

Sam and Tyler--what a smart kid!--are still here in Palm Springs, and will be picking up Emmanuel from the hospital later this afternoon, at which point a home nurse is supposed to come 'round daily to administer the six-week antibiotic course. Well, she's to show Emmanuel how to do it himself, and then he'll take it from there. They would have released him from the hospital on Wednesday, Christmas Eve, but could not because there were no home nurses available until Saturday morning. So we made sure to visit him on Christmas. His spirits are high. He'll be ok. Pam, his aunt, will be helping run errands for him while I'm away, and Brandon will be his little helper.

As for Elliot and I, we're leaving for San Francisco this evening. Fun fun! Photo op! I've always wanted to visit San Fran, city of the Charmed. What do I know about it? Let's see. Well, I think Frank Sinatra left his heart there, right? Maybe I'll find it in some old gypsy's store front, under a blinking neon evil eye. I know that it's cold there, even in the summer. Cold and wet and foggy. I know that it's very hilly, and that it's like Palm Springs in the gay haven sense. That's all well and good. Elliot and I are visiting his cousins there. We're bringing polenta and felafel mix.

And so did Christmas 2008 pass, eventfully, with special friends and good company. We are not hungry, we are not cold. We are loved and needed, and we are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. We received a surround sound system from Elliot for Christmas, and gave Brandon $200.00 to do with whatever his little 12-year-old heart could desire. Knowing him, that will be feeding his penchant for skater gear at Tilly's, or something. How lucky he is to have moolah, and some idea of what cool is.

Which reminds me, he says that "COOL" stands for Constipated, Over-rated, Out of style, Looser, which means that cool is not so cool, but instead "tight" or "dope" is cool. Or not so cool. I can't keep up.

Hee hee. What a world!

-----

January 14, 2009 UPDATE ON TRIP TO SAN FRAN

It reminded me of London--a lot. See some pix on olyandme. I missed London, and my friends there. SF is a neat city. Artistic and casual.

Three-And-A-Half Great Years, And Other Froth.

2008-12-08T20:30:00.000-08:00

This post is for Paula, Rick, Amy, Sabrina, Elise, Kim, and anyone else to whom I sent this link when I left today. I guess we'll see if you ever check the blogs...

As you know, today was my last day, after three-and-a-half years, at the Convention Center. I feel like I oughta, in true exhibitionist Gen-X/Gen-Y fashion, say something about that here in this very public forum, which admittedly, stands little to no chance of being discovered by anyone. I might as well be talking to my self on the toilet. And while I could, and probably will, it's just not the same. There's no chance anyone will hear my diatribes, spoken in an English accent, there. Yes, this is how strange girls with strange names, artistic brains and pretty feet, amuse themselves. They talk to themselves, and sometimes sing, while on the pot. And while we're doing dishes. And while we're watering the lawn. And while we're in the bath or shower. And while we're brushing our teeth (a toofbrush can really huck up an English accent). And while we're walking, no, singing, in the rain...

Do I see a water theme here? Ok, seriously, when I was growing up, I swear to god, I would get itchy everytime I would do dishes. Whether it was soapy water or not, no matter what kind of soap I was or wasn't using, no matter how many dishes or how few, and no matter what country I was in or what season it was, I had an itchy reaction to putting my hands in water. Didn't happen when I was taking a bath, but it happened when I was washing a car. Yeah. Dishes and car washing. What is up with that??? I'd go into these fits of scratching that were so frustrating because I couldn't use my hands, so I was scratching myself with the flat part of my arm, or with my sleeve. And the itches just kept on coming. Then it wasn't a minute after I was dry that it stopped just as quickly as it started. I've only met one or two other people who said they had a similar experience. Imagine the frustration of knowing that if you tell Mom about your weird problem, she will surely think you are making up some crazy thing to get out of work. I had to tough that one out.

Anyhoo, I guess people write blogs because they want so badly to be taken notice of, that even though they know most of their blog blurts go unread, just the idea of the possibility of being noticed is enough to keep them blogulating to the ever expanding universe, where the expansion itself is constantly deminishing their chances of being noticed. Sigh.

Why do I blog? I dunno. Ego, I guess. Why do I do anything, aside from the absolute bare necessities? Ego. Now, I'm not saying I can connect logic to this issue; I'm just saying. But lemme try. Nope. I got nuthin. Not tonight anyway. Blogging = ego related. Let's leave it at that.

Three-and-a-half years is the longest I've worked anywhere, since moving to the US. I think that's almost long enough to qualify me as a junior member of the group of people who know a lot of useful shit about the place they've worked for longer than anybody else who works there.

I'll have to finish this little te-te-a-ta-ta after I watch Heros, "Our Father". Hiro and the Cheerleader (wtf is her name?...Claire.) are talking to each other. Watching themselves as children. He's talking to her in Japanese, using all his English words ("Where is the train station", "I want more waffles", "My name is a pen"), and she's looking at him with that blank stare. Oooh, so much Japanese. I love it.

What I'm Reading

2008-11-04T20:00:00.000-08:00

ECONOMICS IN ONE LESSON

(A read recommended by my bf, Elliot, who has his degree in Economics, something I have a total brain cloud about.)

Made Me Smile

2008-11-04T19:25:00.000-08:00

This kid looks like an "Ira". He looks like he's gonna grow up and be one of the three stooges.

I Voted! Go Obama! "Hippest" Prez EVERRRR!

2008-11-04T17:21:00.000-08:00

McCain will bring the Pain
Palin will leave ya wailin'
So I voted for Barak
'Cause he's rockin' round the clock!

First time ever!

Oh, and HELL NO on Prop 8!

Obama's campaign manager, David Plouffe. G-E-N-I-U-S!

OBAMA IS PRESIDENT ELECT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!!!

Happiness and A Sense of Action

2008-11-04T07:10:00.000-08:00

*From a Letter to a Friend*

I think it's great that you're involved in promoting local talent. The satisfaction you get from that type of action serves to give you a sense of purpose, and so fills the "meaning" third part of the happiness pie chart. People derive their happiness from three things: pleasure, work satisfaction, meaning. Check THIS out. It blew my mind! You'll love www.TED.com. It's an amazing place to go down the rabbit hole.

I laughed at your use of the phrase, "a sense of action." That's the post-talk/pre-action buzz of good intention, isn't it? I can totally visualize people sitting around a table excitedly discussing their concrete plans for change. Everyone means to actually carry out what they've discussed, but the further they get from that room where the"sense of action" filled them, the less the sense of urgency. Sadly, I speak from personal experience. You, on the other hand, might be about the only person who would leave that room and turn the sense into a vision, and through hard work, the vision into a manifestation. Tough, tough road to travel. Lonely. Thankless. Admirable. Exceptional.

Story of Jonah as told by my one-year-old nephew (repost)

2008-11-03T20:47:00.001-08:00

http://everydayexquisite.blogspot.com/2008/10/story-of-jonah-as-told-by-1-year-old.html

Pontificating on the Subject of Paradigms

2008-11-03T16:17:00.000-08:00

*From an e-mail to a friend*

I spent the morning in corporate mandated team building, more specifically, a class entitled “Adapting to Change”. A facilitator came in to teach the class. We did exercises to illustrate various points on the subject; I built the first story of a house of cards while wearing a blindfold. I’d recommend that experience to anybody! I went into some kind of trance due to extreme concentration on my sense of touch.

Anyway. Most of the class was peanuts for me because, as you know, if there’s one thing I can do with my eyes closed, it’s adapt to change. In fact, I welcome it! However, then we watched this short video (for a transcript of the short video, click here). It was a presentation by the well-known futurist, Joel Barker, on the subject of paradigms. Obviously, I’ve heard the word all my life, and more recently, I’ve heard you use it quite a bit, without stopping to wonder what it really means. He explained the concept of the paradigm shift, which seemed to me to be somewhat related to Malcolm Gladwell’s tipping point; both equally fascinating ideas. He pointed out that some people experience paradigm paralysis; that some people’s paradigms can actually physiologically prohibit them from seeing things not within its confines, proving that if you can conceive of it, you can achieve it. Or at least, that the reverse is true: If you cannot conceive of it, you don’t have a chance in hell of ever achieving it. All things you and I know to be true.

I found, once again, that so much of what resonated with me about this subject could be found reflected in the pools of A New Earth. I imagined a world in which all of us allowed our paradigms to be stretched and expanded at will; where, instead of clustering like sheeple at the corroded and comfortable centers of our community matrixes, we existed with ease on the border of that which is known and accepted, and that which has not yet been imagined; far enough out there that we could actually reach up and grab some new dust from the stars, and close enough to the rest of the enlightened planet that we would still be intellectually accessible. We’d all be visionaries, inventors, iconoclasts, adventurers, risk takers, and believers in the full extent of our potential. If we were undefined by “form,” another word for paradigm, we would be able to recognize and, more importantly, welcome shifts to our paradigm.

Some great examples were given: that of men in a city in Mexico who run 70 miles as a right of passage, and frequently run 25 miles just for fun. In contract, the longest marathon in the US is 26 miles, and those who run it train like animals to make this possible. Are their bodies different? No. Another example was that of the Peruvian Indians at the arrival of Colombus' ships from What the Bleep Do We Know. I believe I brought this up in our discussion with R. yesterday, and it continues to fascinate me (I have since done some research and discovered that this myth has been debunked). If you Google “paradigm paralysis,” which you are likely to have already done, you will find a story about the man who invented the first photocopy machine, his presentation of the device, and the rejection he experienced at the whim of a scientist who shrugged the invention off as “not a legitimate photography device”.

I asked six people here at lunch if they were familiar with A New Earth. I got one response. P. said she has it sitting in her living room. I interjected simply that it was changing my life, and left it at that. She just snuck into my cubicle to ask me about it further. She said I piqued her interest and that she has to go home now and start reading it. She has been so into The Secret, that I’m sure it’s going to be just what she needs. I’m pleased with the thought that I might have just had a hand in helping my friend; there is meaning-happiness in that. I am happier still that part of my hand was your hand; you paid it forward and the giving continues.

I realize you’ve read far more on this subject than I have and so I am preaching to the choir. But I was just so excited about this idea! I can’t wait to talk with you further about it. Tell me what you know about paradigms.

(For a transcript of the short video, click here.)

Life as a Nomad - by Brandon McNair

2008-10-13T19:32:00.000-07:00

I laughed so hard when I read this essay by my son that I had to post it here (reposted just as he wrote it, spelling mistakes, lack of punctuation, and all).

--

Life as a Nomad

Day 1: as me and my brothers were walking through the tree pine forest we came upon a spot that had all the recourses needed food, water and shelter. We camped out for the night and waited till morning to start making camp.

Day 2: As me and my brothers woke up we found that there was even more fruit on the trees and more plant life than we hade seen the day before! We were surprised at what hade grown so quickly! So we quickly picked all the fruits drank all the Walter and made camp. Two weeks later we found that we had eaten all the food and drunken all that we could drink. So we took down all the homes and made a map of where we were so if we needed to ever go back we would know where it was! So we moved on and headed west.

Day 3: Still traveling west we came upon an oasis that didn't have much but we would have to settle for it for now because we had nowhere else to go. So we camped there for the night as we did the night before and fell asleep to the ambient sounds of hte frogs, crickets, dragonflies and more!

Day 4: When we woke up we saw that the oasis was drying out so we had to move quickly if we wanted to survive the cold hearted life of a nomad and get on with our lives. So we headed south four the winter.

Day 5: Swift as a freshly made sword cutting through the finest of the thinnest loin cloth money could by me and my brothers and moved quickly through the ice caps but we weren't feeling so good along the way, some died, some just stay very sick for a a long time. And although some died, they died with pride and honor and we grace our selves to be in their presence and do nothing but have hope and set our minds to the task at hand.

Day 6: We've made it to South America and there was lots and lots of food water and trees for wood so we stayed there for the night an as daid previously we will set up camp in the morning.

Day 7: Two weeks later every thing was gone so we went back to the tree pine forest and all was replenished, the fruit was back on the trees, the water was flowing through the stream again and every thing was back to normal. So from that day forth we lived out the rest of our lives as a pattern.

By: Brandon McNair...
Life as a Nomad...

---

Somehow he managed to get a 47 out of 50 on this! Beats me how.

To You

2008-10-12T18:14:00.000-07:00

The old French doors,
An unprotected flame,
The youthful mind,
The eyes of a few:
All open;
And I open myself
To you.

Unsolicited advice,
A mother’s love,
Carbon dioxide,
The critic’s review:
All freely given;
And I give myself
To you.

Childhood memories,
Socks in the dryer,
The other earring,
The other point of view:
All lost;
And I lose myself
To you.

SDM 10/12/08

Your Plan

2008-09-29T19:47:00.001-07:00

Your plan, it sits precariously
A boulder on a pin-na-clee
You blow upon it, cynically.
As if it ever had a chance
Your plan and you, in faux romance
Fake a bow; feign a dance.
Your plan deserves to be set free
For after all, it wasn’t she
Who knew the better part of me.
No, that was you, and not your plan
You self-reliant stubborn man
Come back to me now, if you can.

SM 9/08

What a Great Way to Start a Year!

2008-09-22T07:59:00.000-07:00

Went to LA. Elliot gave me a flash for my Olympus camera and a diffuser so I can start doing portraits, and then he took me out to a beautiful Japanese place in the Hollywood hills for dinner. Spent Saturday lazin' around and going to somebody's house warming, and then Sunday at Lake Perris. Almost got a chance to water ski for the first time, but I was chickening out, and then the boat broke, so no luck there. Met Elliot's family--all but his Mom--and they were a great bunch. Russian Jews. Sense of humor. The women in the family all take great care of themselves, and the men were kind. Loved Elliot's Dad.

Best moment: a 22 year old girl told me I didn't look a day over 25. She's my new best friend. Let's see...what was her name again? Ah, yes. Linda. A little Vietnamese thing. Not an inch over five-feet. Full of life--like an African bouncing bean. It's that Clark skin, Mom!

Anyway, now I'm home, ready for Monday. Thanks, Life. You were something!!

Another Year!

2008-09-19T07:37:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to me! Today I'm 33. And although everyone knows I hold no fondness for getting older--every year after 30 is a small tragedy--today I am content. I have love in my life by the barrel full, I have good friends and colleagues, and my life has changed in the last year in ways that have put me in a great place. I am learning, about myself and the worlds in which I exist. I am understanding what it to live in the Now and experience Presence. I am finally comfortable with opening back up to spirituality, and finding how much goodness was pumped into me growing up that I can now regurgitate, add to, and share.

As the product of our influences, and the unwitting collared slave of subliminal and overt marketing madness, it may be an illusion, or at the very least subjective, but the RIGHT TO CHOSE is a beautiful thing! I took a few moments this morning, before rushing into my day, to read from my favorite book, A New Earth. This is my quote for the day. I've already committed it to memory (old habits die hard).

When you recognize that the present moment is always already the case and therefore inevitable, you can bring an uncompromising inner "yes" to it and so not only create no further unhappiness, but, with inner resistance gone, find yourself empowered by Life itself.

Pass Around

2008-09-15T23:43:00.001-07:00

Egging on the radicals
Who crowd this reeking dome
Begging for sabbaticals
To drag me far from home
And cooking little mysteries
That slip and slide like whisperies.

Pushing into aberration
Sluggish, like a silent sound
In suspended animation
Take a hit and pass around
To see the frail water sprites
Wave and wash into the lights.

SM 9/08

Dropped

2008-09-15T19:59:00.000-07:00

Dropped my call
Dropped my hand
Dropped my heart
Dropped the ball
Dropped the dream
Between the cracks
Just like that
Like a hat, you dropped it.

Good.

Now, who knows why you held it at all?

SM 9/08

What I Did the Other Night

2008-09-11T07:41:00.000-07:00

Still untitled. Made it especially for above my bed. I must admit, here it seems a little busy, but in person the background designs are more muted, and the foreground shapes pop. I lurve it!

Promises

2008-09-09T16:37:00.000-07:00

I think it’s funny when young people make promises. Well, when anybody makes promises.

I’m 32 and just starting to understand how silly a promise is. Talk about setting yourself up for a fall. This is yet another reason why we have a culture so full of depression. We’re constantly making promises, and breaking them, and then feeling guilty about it. That shit piles up.

What makes promises “sacred” is how rarely they should be made. Making a promise should require at least as much forethought as getting a tattoo. I took years to decide on which one I wanted and where I would get it. Now, I don’t regret it and I’m quite sure [without making any promises] that I never will. But then there’s the guy running around with the rubber ducky on his bicep; that tattoo he got when he lost a bet on a night out with the guys. Some people make promises just as lightly.

The only difference is that you can laugh at the rubber ducky. There is a precept that I live by: if you can laugh at it you can live through it. And you can’t laugh at broken promises. No matter how you spin it, a broken promise is not a laughing matter, making it one of the very few things that can be our destruction.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with a promise. Just back it up with logic. For example, as an alternative to until death do us part, try this: I will love you for all that you are for as long as I can.

That’s it. That says it all, and you’re not foolishly over-committing. You’re simply saying, “I’m in the moment with this amazing thing, yet I acknowledge my human frailties. I’m flesh and blood, forgoddsakes, and I change my mind sometimes. I love everything about you right now, and can’t see that ever coming to an end, but hey, this is not my first time at the rodeo. I’ve seen a few good riders get their faces kicked in. But that never negates those legendary eight seconds where they grabbed the bull—and life—by the horns.”

If "for as long as I can" turns into forever one precious day at a time, well, then you've got something really special.

Playing with Fire

2008-09-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

So, once there was this fire, right,
Strong in heat and raging light,
Burning through the after-night,

And into embers, one last time,
And into flame on oak and pine,
And into passion, inferno of mine.

My fire, rampant riot red,
It burned, both in and out of bed;
Its fuel: the logic in my head.

It burned my soul and made me bleed.
Then leaving me with inborn need,
It moved along to fire-breed.

Every season is the same:
I am consumed and left in shame,
But now I’m branded with your name.

Entertained, you watched me burn,
Love, so spoken out of turn,
Lust, another trick to learn.
I, who freely flared before
Object to blazing any more...
Tonight, my heart back, I implore.

SM ‘08

My little sister, Florence, incredibly talented in her own right, was not crazy about this poem. Said it rhymed too much. Alex used to say the same thing. I sometimes rhyme. Get over it, Lovelies!

Morphography ثلاثة

2008-09-01T15:49:00.001-07:00

Some of my first pieces.
You may be surprised to knwo that the waves in this picture happened through movement while the picture was being taken, not through post editing.
It's no masterpiece, but I think there is something terribly haunting about that hollow black mouth.

In this one I just like the lips. The rest: I could take or leave.
I'd have to say that I looked how I felt here. Well, not at that split second. At that second I was having fun discovering this new accidental art form, but that ring might as well have been around my neck.

Thank goodness there were better, and lighter, days ahead!
No, wasn't going for Taliban, but thanks for playing. Not sure this has any redeeming quality at all, except maybe the interesting variations of gray in what was an extremely colorful towel.

Morphography إثنان

2008-09-01T15:49:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces
This would make for an interesting ceramic sculpture, about 18" high.

Morphography واحد

2008-09-01T15:48:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces.

Shown here, Samantha Cushman. Such a pretty little thing.

Morphography Ju

2008-09-01T15:44:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Morphography Kyu

2008-09-01T15:43:00.001-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Morphography Hachi

2008-09-01T15:43:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Morphography Nana

2008-09-01T15:42:00.000-07:00

Morphography Roku

2008-09-01T15:39:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Morphography Go

2008-09-01T15:37:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

I had a junky pearl bead chain. Each one could pop off of the next, so yes, the pearls are actually in either one of his nostrils, and then wrapped around his head. It was a proud moment for us all. Note the eyes.

And again, the pearl is actually in his nose, and his ear. LOL! And no, Elliot, they're not anal beads. Haha!

Morphography Yon

2008-09-01T15:36:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Totally fucking freaky, no matter which way you turn it. This is the only one of my pictures that actually scares even me. I think it's because it's reminiscent of The Grudge.

God, I love this picture. She comes off like an Egyptian princess.

This one makes me think of a hoard of hungry babies all crying to nurse.

Oh, this has got to be a personal favorite. I applied an overall effect so it feels like a painting, but the smear: all her. Sooo smooth, like pulled taffy. And that eye on the right! Eesh! Just stares right a'cha!

Morphography San

2008-09-01T15:35:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Morphography Ni

2008-09-01T15:34:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Morphography Ichi

2008-09-01T15:33:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Morphography Diez

2008-09-01T15:30:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Morphography Nueve

2008-09-01T15:29:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces

Morphography Ocho

2008-09-01T15:28:00.000-07:00

Some of my earliest pieces
Saw Saw SAW! Right?

Saw-esque, but with more of a masquerade quality to it. It's totally shroom trip material though--if you wanna get spooked! Lol!

Morphography Siete

2008-09-01T15:27:00.001-07:00

Some of my first pieces

Morphography Seis

2008-09-01T15:27:00.000-07:00

Some of my first pieces

Morphography Cinco

2008-09-01T15:26:00.000-07:00

Morphography Quatro

2008-09-01T15:24:00.001-07:00

Some of my first pieces

Morphography Tres

2008-09-01T15:24:00.000-07:00

Some of my first pieces

Morphography Dos

2008-09-01T15:23:00.001-07:00

Some of my first pieces

Morphography Uno

2008-09-01T15:23:00.000-07:00

Some of my first pieces

Morphography of My Son, Brandon

2008-09-01T15:21:00.000-07:00

Morphography of My Brother, Samuel

2008-09-01T15:20:00.000-07:00

A Favorite

2008-09-01T15:14:00.000-07:00

Cover Ideas

2008-09-01T15:09:00.000-07:00

Expectations

2008-08-21T14:57:00.001-07:00

"Truly loving another means letting go of all expectations. It means full acceptance, even celebration of another's personhood." Karen Casey

Expectations. Interesting. No expectations means no disappointments. No disappointments means no resentments. It means letting the other person Be, letting them evolve, not holding them to some pattern or some role. Living in the moment means letting go of expectations too, and allowing ourselves the luxury of the unexpected—as a couple. By definition, a relationship will always be new and alive if neither person is expected to “perform”. We have been taught to “expect the best” from people in our relationships, whatever type they may be, when in reality, if we expect nothing, and love them for love’s sake, their “best” comes as a welcome gift and not as the bare minimum.

W-W-W-Wordplay

2008-08-18T20:51:00.000-07:00

Whispering in his ear, she moaned like the winey wind, wild words and wayward sounds that waxed wonderfully wanton.

SM-8/08

Thoughts and Quotes

2008-08-14T20:56:00.000-07:00

One of the great ironies of love is that we need time apart to realize that what we never wanted was time apart. -SM 8/08

--

My favorite quotes from A New Earth, by Eckhart Tolle.

Life is the dancer and you are the dance.

How "spiritual" you are has nothing to do with what you believe but everythig to do with your state of consciousness.

When you don't cover up the world with words and labels, a sense of the miraculous returns to your life.

One thing we know: Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness. How do you know that this is the experience you need? Because this is the experience you are having at this moment.

The ultimate truth of who you are is not I am this or I am that, but I Am.

Yielding means inner acceptance of what is.

What you react to in another, you strengthen in yourself.

The ego's greatest enemy of all is, of course, the present moment, which is to say, life itself.

Awareness and ego cannot coexist.

The past has no power to stop you from being present now.

Can the Truth be put into words? Yes, but the words are, of course, not it. They only point to it.

Awareness is the power that is concealed within the present moment. This is why we may also call it Presence.

The underlying emotion that governs all the activity of the ego is fear.

In a genuine relationship, there is an outward flow of open, alert attention toward the other person in which there is no wanting whatsoever. That alert attention is Presence. It is the prerequisite for any authentic relationship.

Defining yourself through thought is limiting yourself.

The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it. Be aware of the thoughts you are thinking.

The truth is that you need to say yes to suffering before you can transcend it.

Mastry of life is not a question of control, but of finding a balance between human and Being.

LOVE IS the recognition of oneness in a world of duality.

Give up defining yourself--to yourself or to others. You won't die. You will come to life. And don't be concerned with how others define you. When they define you, they are limiting themselves, so it's their problem. Whenever you interact with people, don't be there primarily as a function or a role, but as a field of conscious Presence.

The present moment is the field on which the game of life happens.

In order to attract success, you need to welcome it wherever you see it.

Untitled

2008-08-14T20:42:00.000-07:00

This man, a muse, he is to me
Amusing, too, this flagrancy
That grants us this transparent dream
Bemusing, though this Now may seem.

-Sunny 7/08

A Still Hand

2008-08-14T19:13:00.000-07:00

What is this firmament

between our two skies?

Electricity

Shooting from our eyes
With a shock

and with a zing

This bizarre and faultless thing
Playing in my space

And yours
Glowing in the face
Coming through the pores

Passing over understanding
Beyond the furthest reaches of the mind
In its speed, leaving thought behind

Exceeding expectation
Gaining elevation
Up, up, so far

So fine
A still hand drawing us

Into a single line.

(Dedicated to E.K.)

- Sunny 8/08 -

Becoming

2008-07-22T15:44:00.000-07:00

In tiny trickles down my spine
In drips of liquid, sweet like wine
As scattered rain drops fall in line
We are becoming
Faintly newer than before
First a limerence, then a door
We walk through it to something more
Toward becoming
All can see the pieces fit
None can see the last of it
To transformation we submit
And then become.

- Sunny 2008 -

(For E.K.)

The Lilly Book

2008-07-05T09:27:00.000-07:00

Your words they weave
A tapestry
In which I find you welcome me.
From out of you,
An open book,
A bidding comes; I take a look.

Pages, rages,
Eloquence
Pure expression, simple sense.
In reading you
I smile to see
I know a little more of me.

And into you
I gladly sink;
Drawn by script in Indian ink.
Your affections
Are there defined,
No need to read between the lines.

We two, alone
Will know the rite
Of which this record speaks tonight.
A knot so tied
It will not give
Will bind us all the days we live.

सुन्नी म्क्नैर 2007

Just One

2008-06-15T14:45:00.001-07:00

I was, at most, just one,
Flailing in a blind escape.

Then

Like a tree
You covered me
And washed us
In your ever green.
Always seen
And always heard
I was to you,
My young love...

Who
Watered me with sweet affection.
And did my petals grow!
Then didn’t we,
Two fertile streams,
Coast toward
Collective dreams?
Toward the other’s waiting reaches?

Away from one and into two;
Playful bubbles without a clue.

Horns ahead, you were undaunted
‘Till you adjusted what you wanted:
It was no longer me.
In the sadness I’m undone
And find I am again
Just one.

Sunny McNair
June 2008

It

2008-06-08T10:28:00.000-07:00

Just as it came, it quickly grew, drawing intention from beyond me. Attracting, influencing, culminating; independently. I, the observer, stranded in awe and flayed of all ego, watched as it sucked the room in. It would borrow from everything I could give, and the rest it would take, or create out of thin air. It never asked for permission and would never ask for forgiveness. Entitled to pleasure, it took advantage of my willingness to be taken advantage of. While half in pain and half in climax, and still undecided, I lost myself in its consummation of me. It, the supreme power, bit my obscene flower, then rolled back the sky and sat there laughing vicariously.

In the subsequent years I held that spot; my eyes affixed, my faith unshaken. It would return to reassemble the pieces that I had gathered in its wake, then destroy me again.

- Sunny McNair 2008 -

Firefly (poetry)

2008-04-16T18:51:00.000-07:00

When late the hour and small the flame
Into a crooked world I came
To try the foolishness of this:
The quintessential distance
'Tween sole of foot and dust,
Uniting rot and rust,
Dividing love and lust,
And making every strain appear
As though it were the only one.

Unique, a thought, it might have been
If only, stunned, we carried back
Some broken bridges in our sack.
"Go long" I say into the wind,
And blow the ashes knowingly…

With quaking ground the sun appears,
Forgot I how to call it tame!
How did we fall into this game?
How will be both this black undo?
Into the arms of bloody blame
We'll carve, unflinching, there our name.

Believe, bereft, what is left I leave,
But what is here to claim I snatch.
Whilst pounding on my broken skull,

Crayon's Reddish rock of canyons
Crawl to meet the sudden fall, 'n
From undulating spires form
A contemplative sprawl.

Above the sprawl, a firefly.
And that is all; and then we die.

--Sunny McNair 2005

“What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.” - Chief Crawfoot

A.W.S. (poetry)

2008-04-16T18:41:00.000-07:00

Commonly, I resist.
But if I close my eyes and breathe deeply
For just a moment,
Slowly, calming the peripheral cynicism,
The expected trance tingles with a stir.

I can feel your afternoon sun
On my thighs again;
Your sweet basil breath,
And your kisses.

These memories will always be
My peace.

All I have of us I have here,
Washed in the golden glow.

Not too busy and not too afraid,
We became
What few become;
Transposed.

Now apart -
Me, alone
You, virtually -
Divided by choice.
Simply, we
May never be.

Our souls are tied together
While our bodies are forever
Wrestling with our minds.

What pain there is in the knowledge
That you exist outside this
Rolling cage, and I
Cannot reach you.
You out there, or in here
And me looking in, or looking out,
Separated by a jagged tear
In some cosmic drop cloth.

Did we ever really touch
The same air,
The same dusty railing?
Or was it all some wonderful dream
Of caramel and anise?

I will never shake you.
I accept that. I celebrate it.
I love the parts of me that are you, and in that

I love you.

- S. McNair 2008 -

The Remainder (poetry)

2008-04-13T18:37:00.000-07:00

Time has no gentle cycle
No use for the pause or rehash
Tracks, trailers, and trash
Trivial and terrible
Crash
Together in this place
Where they live
On his face.

Darkest fears realized
Temptations confronted
Sometimes delighted
Slighted
Or important pursuits
Dragging youth
Down the lines
Of his face

There the children played
In the sharp wind, flayed
With iron rattles;
Not knowing.
Just below the surface
Underlying tension
Showing aged comprehension
In his face.

These storms are written
As parchment letters
Grit, flint, script, wit
Come together once more
To do the dying of yore
And I, alone, at last in this dim
See the true remainder
Of him.

Downward Gaze

2008-04-13T11:05:00.000-07:00

- Downward Gaze -

Model: Sunny McNair

April 2008

“Grace must find expression in life, otherwise it is not grace.”

Light Source

2008-04-13T10:48:00.000-07:00

- Light Source -

Model: Sunny McNair

April 2008

“A woman whose smile is open and whose expression is glad has a kind of beauty no matter what she wears.”

Coming Down

2008-04-13T10:47:00.001-07:00

- Coming Down -

Model: Sunny McNair

April 2008