the view from the sundial bridge

March 31, 2007, I am in Redding, California. a city set in a beautiful location, surrounded by hills including the snow-capped Mount Lassen and Mount Shasta, both active volcanos. I expected this city to be run-down but it's not -- it's clean and with lots of trees and some very nice homes. but it's all somewhat stepfordwife-ish i think. My taxi cab driver in Redding told me, "We are rednecks but we are friendly." The symbol of Redding--what put this small town of some 100,000 people on the map-- is the sundial pedestrian bridge by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava and it did not disappoint me.

Photo of the street on which I was born March 30, 1956 a half century ago at Loveday Street Maternity Hospital. The hospital no longer exists and I couldn't find a photo of the hospital itself.

Interview with Myself, March 28, 2007

Q: How does it feel to be turning 51?
A: I look at photos in magazines and newspapers of men and women my age – and they look so old. I don’t feel old when I’m busy, but when I stop my world for a moment I realize I’m collateral damage and my pain, impervious to medicine; however, I’m a work in progress – and let’s face it: I love myself. I’m my biggest fan.

Q: Are you content with where you are today?
A: Most of the time I am angry, angry at god whatever that means, and I am depressed but it’s not because of what you or he or she thinks. In 1998 just before my forty-second birthday I was the victim of a terribly violent crime. I was beat up bad. I had a gun, figuratively-speaking, put to my head. As I result, I was diagnosed with post traumatic stress and for awhile my mental composition changed. At the time my father was dieing and I thought god had orchestrated this transgression against me, to get me through my father’s death. I was in so much pain, my eyes should have been hemorrhaging. That was my holocaust. I woke up to the fact that there are people all around me who have no unwillingness to send others, including me, to the crematoriums simply because they can.

Q: Where do you want to be in ten years?
A: I want to live somewhere where I am surrounded by beauty in nature and beautiful architecture and it’s quiet and safe and there is a lot of cool, clean water and my psyche isn’t assaulted by distractions and I can devote myself to things and people that warrant my devotion. I want a garden, a small orchard and I want animals and I hope Eddie will be happy there.

fleishhacker pool, largest saltwater pool in the world 1925-1971

This is the world I live in. More than 60 pensioners, almost half of them bed-ridden, died this month in a blaze at a retirement home in Russia that flouted fire safety regulations and was located an hour's drive from the nearest fire station. Knife-wielding smugglers forced 450 Somalis and Ethiopians overboard into stormy seas in the Gulf of Aden so they could make a speedy departure after being spotted by Yemeni security forces. Passengers who resisted the smugglers were stabbed or beaten with wooden and steel clubs, thrown overboard where some were attacked by sharks. Recovered bodies showed signs of severe mutilation. Survivors reported that several Ethiopian women and at least one Somali were raped by the smugglers during the voyage. Survivors also alleged that some Yemeni security forces confiscated their money once they reached shore. Britney Spears made her first public appearance since rehab on Friday--to take a dance class and enjoy sushi with friends. "Humanity is a Function of Comfort" (quote, EM, March 26, 2007).

back 'n the day 1925 and 1901

poem for eddie (written march 5, 2007)

you are so acute and wonderful
i mean the pauses and the half notes and all that
the sparten-ness of it all
and yet ready to explode
how do you do it - eddie and still remain in your wiggle room?

postcard to miss cecilia kelly

house for sale $1,575,000 !

Saturday, March 24, 2007 Eddie made me pancakes. Later the same day I ran into my neighbors, A & R, who have put up their house for sale. The price is $1,575,000, a lot more than what they spent when they purchased it some twenty years ago or so. They are moving to Amsterdam, where they tell me life encompasses more than the routine of work, dinner, television and sleep. They paint a portrait of bicycling to the store to buy one’s groceries or sailing on a canal in the evening on one’s candle-lit boat while nibbling on cheese and drinking wine or staying up late participating in the café society. It’s a small country, they said, and the government is not receptive to anyone moving there, but they are intent on making it work. That evening my mother and I had dinner at my sister' house. The postcard that recently arrived @ my place of residence, was the topic of conversation. How did a postcard addressed to Miss Cecilia Kelly of in 1909 suddenly find its way ninety-eight years later to the house she had lived in? Did Miss Kelly ever receive it? It seemed a bit of magic that touched us, and we were all in awe.

twenty years later

i feel like shit tonight. i ask myself how i arrived at this point. besides the fact that i am ageing, i realize i never wanted to live life like it was a harrowing ride i had to manuever: i just wanted to get by by doing as little damage as i could to those around me and the ground i walked on. i looked at my journal from march 1997 to see where i was ten years ago and i remembered what a mess i was, betraying myself by my generosity to overcompensate for all the shame and guilt and trying to recover from losing so many to aids. christopher's death changed everything for me. i know he would have wanted that i live life to the fullest but seriously ever since he left me, i'm scared shitless. March 22, 2007

He was a beautiful boy, winsome with a voracious appetite for life. I never expected him to become part of the carnage. It left me with despair. Almost twenty years after, I am still hurting.

Every time I hear your voice my world stands still
A storm sweeps through my bones
An inauspicious, not boding well chill
Oh mother, why?

You seem to be as frightened as me
Trapped by the same pedestrian strains
Where is our god and what have we gained from this?
Can someone please tell me…?

Oh mother, why? (Winter Song, February 1, 2007)

I love you because you are sewn from a fabric
I’ve never known before
Warm and wonderful, unassailable and loveable
Threads that hold me closer and
Carry me home.
I don’t need to be surprised by crepe susezette
Or pecan pies
If I can look into your eyes tonight. (Crepe Suzette, February 1, 2007, for E.M.)