Dreamways

The reverberations from the movie Spy Quest 2 continue to be powerful, in terms of being in my body. The movie, along with shaving my beard and moustache, has nudged me into a different sense of self-in-body. Not just feeling sensualized and sexualized (those vivifying energies!), but also experiencing a new sort of feeling that it is perfectly fine to have the body that I do. Perfectly fine. A joy, actually.

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Yesterday I cleared my face of beard and moustache. I like my face hairless. The beard was 3 years or so old, but I’d had the moustache for ever. A good change, I think.

 

Denver. Today was Gay Pride Day in Salt Lake. With 15,000 participants, the parade involved with commencing the festivities is, sez the paper, SLC’s second largest of the year. It is touching to see how much positive and supportive press was devoted to the event and to gay issues in the daily paper. From the outside, there is something heroic about gays standing up and standing out in the capital of Zion. These kinds of acts of conviction and courage in smaller, “Nowhere-ville” town are capturing my attention.

We’ve returned to Denver.

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BODY. A few weeks ago, I again developed a spot of psoriasis on my left hip. Such a familiar physical sensation it is. It’s a burning, like the sun concentrated through a magnifying glass onto an ant. My thoughts amplify the burning, focusing stress and discomfort onto that spot. Like drops of acid, my negative cogitations dribble onto that patch of skin. The physical sensation amplifies the scorching thoughts and emotions.

Aloe vera doesn’t help relieve this symptom. As a matter of fact, it actually increases the dryness and itchiness.

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A cold, gray wintery Wednesday morning. Spring has arrived in an ice box.

I am feeling quite stunned after last night’s HOA Owners‘ Meeting. The vote was to retain both Alvin and myself and expel Dell. That result was and is absolutely stunning to me. I was 100% ready to bid the post a fond adieu.

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More SIGNS OF VIOLENCE. Walking the half block along 13th Ave. from Gaylord to the office, I spottted detritus at the foot of one of the smaller ash trees in the narrow parking strip before Connie’s house. There were dribs and drabs of black plastic, some shards of glass. „Hm,“ I thought, „car accident remains.“ Then I noticed bits of bark. A couple of feet up the trunk was a basketball-sized gash, where a vehicle had crashed into the tree, the yellow wound stripped of bark. Near the sidealk lay a large piece of bark, nearly the size of the gash.  read more »

In the mail Saturday (a gorgeous, sun-drenched day, bursting with spring-like hope) there arrived a splashy catalogue from, of all places, the Fine Arts Center in the Springs!  read more »

Martin Luther King Day. A holiday. It is snowing, such a blessing, even if fleeting, this warm and dry winter! My dance with my Left Arm and Shoulder continues. How many weeks has it been going on?

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Madrid. Otrdienas sīestas laiks. Nupat kā apmeklējām Karaliskās mākslas akadēmijas mūzeju. Man interesēja apraudzīt šī krājuma Gojas gleznas. Divi viņa pašportreti man patika. Vienā, maza apmēra, viņš pilnā augumā redzmas, ar jocīgu it kā burtisku katliņu galvā, krāšņa jaciņa mugurā, toreadora stila, un pieguļošas bikses kājās.

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Seviļa. ISCAR koferences pirmā diena. Atslēgas runa bija drausmīgi garlaicīga. Runātājs, spānieties, tīri veikli rīkojās ar angļu mēli, bet vārdu „psyche“, kuru viņš neskaitāmas reizes lietoja, kas pat runas nosaukumā figurējas, viņš konsekventi izrunāja „psych.“ F patlaban uz sesiju aizgājis. Es, toties, sēžu pātio uz beņķa. Cementa placis ar četrām dekoratīvu kociņu rindām. Placis ēkas vidū.

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