Dreamways

A new month. The year cruises on toward its halfway point. Wednesday afternoon. Warmer than the past few days, although it has clouded up in a summer afternoon fashion. F today purchased a bushel-basket-sized plastic flower pot and saucer. He set them on our balcony, filled the pot with potting soil, and made home there for a dozen herbs: basil, rosemary, sage, thyme. I, personally, am content with our ficus and orchid, but this is F’s potager.  read more »

The weather truly reminds me of northern Calif. In Eldora, in Nederland, and miles in the direction of Boulder, it was not only overcast and wet, but often it was foggy. From Boulder-town right on into Denver, it was heavily overcast. And so it continues to be, with a bit of rain now and again.  read more »

Sleep Dream. OREN. A semi-awake state this morning in bed, after a glorious night’s sleep. Images of Victor M., who I piano-duetted with. His face quite beautiful, same as in high school. Smoothe white skin, an amazingly sensual mouth. Alert, friendly, contacting eyes. He is lithe in his body. He is naked. He is seducing me. Opening up his body for me. Putting my hand on his hard cock. Bending over, offering his rosebud to me. Offering his pink nipples to me. A direct, clear, loving and strong invitation to take him, all of him. His breasts become like a woman’s.  read more »

Sleep Dream.  Someplace like Cherry Creek; Sears and its environs before Whole Foods and all that stuff arrived on the scene. A 1960’s feel. I’m in some sort of tiered, multi-story structure, lots of windows, white girders. I’m passinng through the edifice, on my way to somewhere else. There are groups of people every ten to 20 feet, clusters of four, five, six people, like families, mostly females, mothers and daughters, many blonde. Dressed up for performance. They are dancing and singing. I realize that they are going to compete in a talent competition.  read more »

We watched The Secret of Roan Inish last night at the Eldora cabin. Yet again the movie touched my heart. Making home. For me, not specifically about place, but about attitude and relationship. Home to be made Anywhere. Nowhere. Everywhere.

Late Sunday afternoon, at Josh’s family cabin. It has been gray, very chilly and rainy all day. I’ve spent the entire day inside, reading more of the Old Testament. Josh has been quite busy cleaning and clearing out various crooks and corners of the cabin, this boundless repository of his family Stuff. Stuff hanging from all the walls, creammed onto shelves, piled atop cabinets, behind other stuff. A packrat’s paradise, as it were.
Brad is suffering with a cold, his sinuses liquid, head throbbing, teeth aching. F is dealing with stomach discomfort.  read more »

Saturday, early afternoon, F has returned from teaching on campus this morning, he is napping, sprawled out in his jockey shorts and t-shirt upon our bed. Soon we shall leave for Boulder, where we will meet Josh and Brad for dinner, after which we’ll head for Eldora, where we will enjoy the Memorial Day holiday.  read more »

Late Friday afternoon. F is on campus, he teaches a class this evening. It’s been a beautifully sunny day with a cool SF breeze.  It’s been a good day. I’ve kept to my vow that I made at piano lesson, to sit at the piano every day. It has been a good week at the keyboard. It feels like I’ve been surfing on a wave of a new certainty and clarity in my playing. Steve’s admonition to have fun, to play for and with joy, so jarring when he said it Monday, has continued resonating in my head, influencing how I’ve felt and how I’ve done things when playing this week.  read more »

Monday afternoon. Deep blue storm clouds to the north impelled me to set a new personal record for biking from Newland Court back to the loft: 25 minutes. It is feeling more comfortable and easy to pedal around town. I am getting to know the Highands in a way, with an intimacy and intricacy that I’ve not known for the neighborhood before.  read more »

Piano lesson. I started off our time at the piano by recounting the past week of my interactions with playing. How the chaos around re-epoxying the loft floor really threw me for a loop. That having most of the loft inaccessible and with it, the piano unavailable too, was more disorienting for me than all of the movings out and movings in of the past year. The sense of having no space whatsoever to be in as home for those 24 hours left me feeling bereft for a few days afterwards.  read more »