Practice makes perfect

What a beautiful stream to wake up to. So much poetry, in words and images. 4AM, the holy hour. 3 nightmares (rare for me) and all 3 easily dissolved through past lucid dream practices and meditation. I just pulled myself out of the dreams. As Sofia said yesterday, "meditation is a head replacement." The 2nd dream involving a dog! Who wouldn't leave me alone in Central Park (probably just wanted to play.) the 3rd one I was reading Pynchon and all twisted up in the language, trapped. Pulled myself out of that one, but needed extra help so dropped into grounding mantra. Such a useful tool. And then looked at my phone and saw all this!

4th D, thirsting

Wow that's great - l am moving mountains here - we are out of this house by the 15 of wrote:

this just happened

I was sending a message to Thurston Moore, letting him know that I wanted to get my book Wherewithal to him, edited by Anselm Berrigan. What I really wanted was to ask him to help me with my Sound and Vision project, but since he doesn't know me from Adam, I thought I'd lead with the book. He said he'd be at Anselm's reading tonight and I could give it to him there. That's an interesting coincidence right there. And I'm going to throw in the fact that Thurston and Anselm read almost exactly in the same tone. Sometimes I think Thurston copped his style from Anselm, but I know it's probably mutually borrowed. But there's an unmistakable connection once you hear it. I told Thurston I couldn't make it, but would send one along. Then I said, "as an aside, if you have HBO watch Magnolia again. I just finished re-watching it right now, and so it is lying heavy on me, which is why I'm mentioning it. The different ways the catharsis happens for each character within a single song is genius. Cheers and keep up the good work." I felt a little odd about even saying that, not wanting to come across as overly eager to such a superstar. Right as I had that thought the closing song of Magnolia began to play, "Save me," by Aimee Mann, and I heard the melodic opening strain of the Carpenter's song "Superstar" embedded in middle of the Aimee Mann song "Save Me" that closes the movie. Crazy. Sweet touch. It's at 3:02:00. In my mind I immediately heard Thurston Moore's cover of that same song in my mind. It broke through the fourth dimension. And of course that movie is in part about infidelity, which Thurston is now famous for. And if he watches the movie again he may wonder why I suggested it to him. And even the poem in the book dedicated to Thurston is secretly about infidelity. And he may wonder about that too. And my friend is going through a similar struggle, and we all do to some degree or other, and I'm trying to understand.

On the way reading I read in my own book A line with resonance, but am collapsing. Oh something about hearing and seeing something great, especially at once."

Then the reading, great, then signing the book and the best conversation. 

Next sound and vision.

-- 

/)dam I)eGraff

Poetry rodeo, 4th dimension

Staying in air bnb in Jamaica Plain Mass. The place has some juju, some magic. Owned by artists. Lots of little details, like awesome toys for girls, crazy rabbit fur soft comforters etc. came across this poem in the guest book. Ah, typed, nice. Then when I saw the "poetry rodeo" and remembered that was the name of the poets who has transformed my cousin Mike DeGraff's life.

After Mike's divorce, at a real low point,  he came across these guys, part of a work thing he was involved in. He decided to get a poem from them. The poem they wrote for him on the spot is a beauty, see below. I love the way it ends with such heavy rhyme on the word "divide," a word so poignantly rife with double meaning. Mike was so inspired by this poem, this new lease on life, that he had it tattooed on his arm. I still had the pic Mike sent on my phone and I pulled it out to compare. The signature was the same. 

Must be pretty long odds I'd come across a second poem from this posse in Jamaica Plain Mass, so far from Austin TX. 

"Coming together..."

Room service stories: will smith

That's rich. I dig "fail forward." Thx for the story. I met him for the briefest moment in the late nineties when I was working room service in SF. Took to his room two glasses of wine and a cheese and fruit plate. He didn't answer the door, But I kept trying, even calling his room. Normal protocol would be to leave the tray inside, but I was hesitant to do do considering his celebrity. I knocked a last time and then put the electronic key in the lock. I heard someone rushing to the door. Then the door opened just a crack and there was a shadowy Will Smith. He stuck his head out and told me in an exasperated and slightly impatient manner to leave the tray outside."  In flagrante dilecto. No tip, but a good laugh at least. 

perfect mother's day

Another magical weekend to add to the mix.

Friday a wordless conversation with Melissa Ivey with waves of good vibrations.

Sofia's school mate Martin's party at the Dojo Saturday and all the beautiful kids and parents, all the fun.

Then Saturday night danced hard to DJ/Rupture (Jayce Clayton.) And long warm conversation with Anne Waldman.

Then after reading a conversation on the train ride home with stranger. A yoga instructor named Angela. Went deep.   

Then today for Mother's Day a walk around Swan Lake, beauty everywhere, followed by best Greek food ever at San Torini restaurant in Sleepy Hollow followed by the unbelievable Marc Chagall and Matisse windows at Pocantico Hills Church.

Perfect Mother's Day. 

chpter 2

There's not much difference between this and a poem. But there is a difference. Proust didn't write poetry. Because sometimes you think in prose. What's the difference? Spend the rest of your life with this question.

For instance, here's one called

chapter 2

I had amazing moment just now talking to the Apple Care guy. I called him after getting as high as a kite on my meditation. He was in business mode, but he seemed really eager to help. It turned out it wasn't a problem he could help me with, but we kept talking. We talked about the weather. It was as natural as it was awkward. Should I start talking to him about the poet I was reading, Sampson Starkweather, I wondered? See how far I can take it. No, just enjoy the process off him trying to help me, trying to understand the complexity of my problem, and offering possible solutions. This weird thing happened though, in which a human connection was forged that transcended the business at hand. At the end, when there was nothing more he could possibly say, there was a hesitation, and I swear he had a wistful tone in his voice when he was saying goodbye. It is so clear in moments like this what awareness means. That thing that connects us. We never call each other up anymore just to talk.

Then I had to call back Apple back again. Because I forgot my second order of business, to cancel my iCloud. This time, as soon as told them I wanted to cancel a service of course, I got put on hold. For a long time. Fortunately they were playing really good background music. A band called Milky Chance. And I picked up my acoustic guitar and played a pretty stellar guitar solo. I was feeling it. That's called whistling while you wait.
But in the end I had to wait for 17 minutes! Just to cancel a $3 a month service. Where's your care there, Apple?
But besides the guitar solo, I also wrote all of this during that time.
Ah they're back. Finally.
 "...I understand that you want to cancel the service. I would too."   ???  "Before we go forward I just need to ask you some questions to verify your account."
"Okay"
"What was your childhood nickname.
"I didn't have one."
"Uh, well, what would you have put there?"
"I don't know. Bean pole?"
"Okay, just a moment."
MORE going on hold.
"Sorry, my system is slow today. We've got you all taken are of. Thank you, have a nice day"

Sarah n dippity

Anselm street poet

Cedar rail

Padgett blood work

Biglieri Berkson connection


several days later Sarah N Dippity was used for Sarah Stiles. Whoa.