Late Night Maudlin Street :: Recylced

I wrote this during the move from Honolulu to Seattle, little over a year ago. All of the below still rings true, and I sit, beer in hand, in my packed apartment, listening to the track in question. This song has broken my heart from the age of 15 on, and I can't imagine eulogizing a home, a life, left behind without it. Now, though while I move onward from Seattle to Los Angeles --even for the time being -- many of the same emotions come into play. The loss, the longing, the hope, and the expectation. Everything has changed, even if, on the surface, very little has.

Tonight, well, last night if we’re to be totally honest, I was to start packing. As has been expressed in a previous post, I am in the middle of Tremendous Life Change. I am moving as much as I can afford of my current life in Hawaii back to what could be said to be my old life, but is really my new life, in Seattle.

Yesterday, I turned thirty two. Thirty was spent in the middle of a hectic move to Hawaii, a move that was even more hectic because I allowed my then partner to shoulder all of the responsibility in getting us here. Sure, I helped, but not as much as I could or should have. Part of it was that I was resistant to change, and, even at the cusp of thirty, acting the part of a spoiled child. This time is different. This time I have only myself to answer to (because who wants to be in a relationship with a spoiled child? Exactly.), and must handle things differently.

Jamie suggested that I take some time out of the packing to do a post about Music for Packing, which, really, truth be told, is Music For Leaving. Because I am. I am leaving; I am leaving my partner of more than four years (who, in the spirit of our new found honesty left me), I am leaving friends, I am leaving an established career; I am choosing not to live my life for other people.

We could be clever. We could bluster about how we moved neighborhoods in Seattle in a Darvocet and Percocet haze to Les Savy Fav serenading us with “We’ve Got Boxes”. We could laugh when we remember the move from Kansas to Seattle, marking the miles with Modest Mouse and “A Life Of Arctic Sounds”, because, don’t you know, five hundred miles is a long way to go inside a car? (And don’t you know, once we got there, we pined away the nights with “Busby Berkely Dreams” by the Magnetic Fields?) But let’s not. Let’s share a beer and continue to be honest. Lets talk about “Late Night Maudlin Street” by Morrissey.

This song, oh, this song. This song, off Morrissey’s first solo effort Viva Hate, all the way back in 1988, is the song that for years has eulogized our passing from one physical space to the next. There has not been a move in recent memory that has not entailed sitting in the middle of the floor with a beer and Morrissey’s sad, sad lament about changing house drifting through speakers. I am moving house, a half life disappears today... It captures the ache and promise of new beginnings so perfectly. It is the ache of lost love, of a life that you’ve left behind; it was, is, and will always be, to me, perfect.

The rain pours down at the back of the Nu’uanu valley, where I currently live -- teasing me with the promise of a dark and potentially lonely winter in the Northwest. I’m drinking a beer, sitting at my computer, and listening to “Late Night Maudlin Street”, over and over, so many times that it’s embarrassing. It is, however, like a friend’s arm around your shoulder, fingers pressed into your bicep, and promising that everything really will be okay.

Oh, truly I do love you...

One More Thought On Loss

Today as I was putting things into storage and rushing around with preparations for the impending move, I was reminded of a quote that sums up what I think that I may have been somewhat trying to convey in the last post. It comes from the play Angels In America, and was spoken by the character Harper.

"Nothing's lost forever. In this world there is a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we've left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think so" -- Tony Kushner

And it's true; it was this painful progress that I was attempting to speak to in my last post. However, when I remembered the quote, I remembered the last line as "I hope so", which made it so much more poignant to me. Yes of course we hope so, but honestly, I can't quite put my finger on exactly what it is that I hope to be so. For the time being, I suppose that Hope will be my blanket; Hope will be what carries me (though indeed, it carries all of us) through however much longer I may feel that I need to be carried. Hope is redemptive, and is a close cousin of Faith, though perhaps a more wistful and less certain cousin. Faith is Certainty, while Hope is the middle ground between Certainty and Dreams. Hope is what, along with Faith, keeps us going from day to day.

Regardless of what you may fear that you've lost, or are losing, you can only hope that you will reconcile this with what you may gain, whatever that is. It is not yet even 5pm, and Seattle is nearly completely dark, bundled in it's own blanket of mist, so much so that I can barely see the Space Needle from my window; just an illuminated outline with the not yet completed Christmas lights atop the spire. In light of all of the transition and change in my life, I am refreshingly less cynical than any time in recent memory. Bundled in Hope, I'm ready to move forward into the future, whatever it may be.

Half Formed Thoughts On Loss

Sometimes we lose. The world is full of loss; we lose people, we lose jobs, we lose everything that we've ever had. Sometimes we lose our keys. We lose our minds, we lose the present to the past and the future to the present. We lose brain cells by the bucket load every day, often accelerated by whatever means we choose to deaden the pain of those losses. Every day losing and loss, whether we see it or not. It's strangely and horribly consuming, this shedding that we experience every day, like leaves fluttering off a tree. We are becoming lighter, leaner, yet paradoxically more burdened.

Yet we go forward still, every day. Every day in spite of so many setbacks, and so much loss, so much of it that can't even be avoided. It's marvelous, really, this going on and moving forward. What is it that keeps us from throwing our hands up and giving in? Shouting "enough!" to the heavens and slumping down, defeated? Is it faith? Is it hope?

Or is it that we somehow understand that through losing, we are, ultimately, able to win? Is it that, if you live your life without defeat, you never truly hunger for victory? We may get pushed around sometimes, but one day, we'll be pushed too hard. We'll throw that punch, the other guy will go down, and it will feel damn good. Damn good.

Saturday night I drank champagne and toasted the very idea of Possibility, and tonight, tonight were I to have champagne, I believe that I would toast Loss. Loss who, with all of her cruelty and indifference is nevertheless shepherding us to a better tomorrow as better, stronger, wiser people. Raise your glasses and bow your heads friends; place one hand over your heart, and let us solemnly, wistfully, and yes, because me must, joyfully, toast.

Janelle Monae :: Yow!!!!

Janelle Monae may be one of the best, most interesting new artists that I have had the privilege of being introduced to over the past year. Hailing from ATL via KC KS, Janelle Monae, I think will prove to be one of the more interesting voices in R&B that we've seen in some time.

Ms. Monae manages to channel Prince, Outkast's Andre 3000, James Brown, and, perhaps, a little David Bowie for the sheer spectacle that she has created. All in all, Janelle Monae is one of the most exciting new artists, and I can't wait to see and hear more from her. Sadly, I found out about her weeks after her show in Seattle, which I can only presume was sheer, jubilant brilliance. Also, the chance to have seen her at one of the city's smaller clubs (Chop Suey) is an opportunity that likely won't be coming around again.

The Things I Will Carry

Above will be, aside from clothing and my car, the whole of my possessions for the next few months; and my camera, as it's difficult to take photos of the camera with the camera. Just books and electronic essentials, as well as a notebook, a good pen, and my passport.

The books are a mix of some old friends (Nicole Krauss, Jonathan Safran Foer [two of my favorite books, especially when read as companions], Cynthia Ozick, Kazuo Ishiguro, and David Sedaris), the afore mentioned James Frey, some insightful nonfiction from Oliver Sacks and some dry, dry, dry instructional nonfiction in the form of HTML4. Also included, but not purchased yet are The Gnostic Gospels by Elaine Pagels, and Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, as this is also, ultimately, a journey of the spirit.

Of course, this many books is likely unrealistic, as I think that I've managed to finish one book in the past three months -- and it was a short one. (A Single Man, by Christopher Isherwood, and which may also make it's way into the pile due to the location and themes addressed.) All in all though, I think that I've chosen these particular books as guides for wherever it is that I'm trying to go, and especially as I embrace this trip as a sort of vision quest. All said though, I really do need to make it through that HTML4 for Dummies if nothing else.

So yes, this will be "my life" in terms of possessions for at least two months; crazy, no?

We'll All Have Our Bright Shiny Morning

What are we doing?
We're leaving.
Where are we going?
California.
We can't just get up and go to California.
Yes, we can.
We can't just walk away from our lives.
We don't have lives here. We're just stuck. We'll end up like everyone else, drunk and mean and miserable.
What'll we do?
Figure it out.
We're just gonna leave and go to California and figure it out?
Yeah, that's what we're gonna do.

--James Frey, excerpted from Bright Shiny Morning.

The above was, literally, the first thing that caught my eye when skimming through a copy of Bright Shiny Morning today. I was spending time with a friend, beginning the bittersweet process of saying my goodbyes, and she suggested that I add this to my reading list, as Los Angeles and her history are central characters. To say that it resonated would be, of course, something of an understatement. While the motivations for my own journey are far less dark, and much more an adventure and an exploration of myself than a mere running away, the end result is that yes, I am going to California to "figure it out".

Packing is almost complete, departure dates have been set, and there is an almost electric excitement about me. Often I have found myself critical of my reluctance to have adventures (though in truth, I've had my fair share), so perhaps this is also something of a test. There is something that I want, and have felt that I've needed for some time, and here it is, a door that merely needs to be walked through. Perhaps it's the ease with which everything fell together that leaves me a little nervous, but in truth, isn't serendipity to be celebrated?

Right now, with so much uncertainty in the world, let's focus on the beauty and the wonder of possibility; a belief that, in the end, everything really can be wonderful. Let's suspend for a moment, if we can, the concept of chance. Instead, let's believe, if only for just now, that everything is a puzzle, a gift to be used to our advantage in making us the people that we want to be. It's not that things are hard, it's that they're blessedly easy, if only we can step back and marvel at yes, the beauty and wonder of it all.

Westward and to the South

Growth is painful. it marks us with stretch marks, wraps rings around the insides of trees; bands of experience and expansion that are physical evidence of what we have come to call “growing pains”.  We are marked inside and out as we grow and change, sometimes for the better, and sometimes for the worse; regardless, there is always evidence, if only you know to look hard enough. 

Lately I’ve had my own growing pains, becoming more persistent over the past year, until by the beginning of November I felt almost as though I was knitting new bones. My growing pains stemmed from self awareness and the realization that the past year had taken me further from my goals rather than closer. Unhappy in career and locale, it was a perpetual struggle of two steps backwards for every one forward. 

Friday I made the decision to move to Los Angeles for the winter after a week and a half of serious re-evaluation of, essentially, every aspect of my life. What I hope is that this will be my spirit walk, my vision quest, that brings me back into sync with my goals and brings me closer to achieving them. The hope is that I can walk away from my life, just for a short time, and come back more centered and focused, and the better for it. Essentially, a chance to hit the reset button and see the world with eyes that aren't nearly as tired.

By Monday, I had cancelled my now expired gym membership, given notice at my apartment, begun packing, and found a storage space. Suddenly everything is frighteningly, vividly, Kodachrome real. The reality of the people and places that I will be leaving (yet again, only temporarily, so why the deep melancholy?) settles like a cold fog, replacing the bright optimism that existed when this was all mere fancy. There will be time enough to bask in California's golden sun, cooling toes in her oceans and roasting marshmallows in the embers of her wild fires; today we mourn our losses, real or imagined. 

All of this is coming at a cost, as does everything, and with that cost is tied the hope that the gains will offset the losses. In the end, a life of what if and missed opportunity is as dry and bitter as a mouthful of ashes. Nothing wondrous is ever achieved without risk, even if, in the end, the risk isn’t even that great.

Join The Impact Seattle

Today was the national Join The Impact protest, and out here in Seattle, announced today, it is officially "Marriage Equality Day". Every November 15, per Mayor Greg Nickels speaking at today's rally, we will celebrate the right of all people, regardless of color, gender, orientation, or faith to be married. Good on you, Mayor Nickels; it doesn't change my position on your liberalization of zoning laws (in a way that is, to my mind, anti preservation), but I'm touched that Seattle's gay community has your support.

The rally was, in truth, inspiring. It was heartwarming to me to see a gathering of people from across the spectrum of Seattle's citizenry; especially older straight couples and (gay and straight) families with their children. Especially inspiring was the knowledge that, moving forward, things will be different, and to borrow a line from the fight for African American rights, yes, "we will overcome".

See the full gallery here.

Keith Olbermann Has Something To Say

MSNBC shouting talking head Keith Olbermann addressed the topic of gay marriage and Proposition 8. Definitely worth watching and forwarding. A good perspective on an issue that is, yes (sigh) about equal rights, and not special rights. (For the record, I love him; he may be our Bill O'Reilly, but he possesses a humanity and an intellectualism that is otherwise largely absent in punditry.)



(Update: This totally makes me teary eyed every time I watch it; let us all be written in the Book Of Love.)

Downloadable Protest Posters!

The folks over at Against8 have some great downloadable posters to use tomorrow for the march; download them and march, march, march for equal rights!!