Rabbit Hole Recordings

More from Hope, Ladies and Gentlemen.  

Rabbit Hole Recordings

I woke up that morning in the motel and remembered a strange dream I had so I wrote that down also.

Rabbit Hole Recordings: the hole

“THE RABBIT HOLE” 

I was strolling along in a pretty little sundress.  It looked like I was in “Hope”.  The grass was glistening green.  The sun was perfectly filtered through some extraordinarily tall trees.  I strolled easily, calmly.  I crossed through an open meadow with a different kind of grass that was a light gold color.  On the moist floor of the meadow beneath all that wild golden grass was a carpet of dark green with scattered pink flowers decorating it.  I ran my hand through the grass and felt like time stood still and a pleasant breeze caused my body to tingle slightly.  A hawk with a pattern of black and white feathers for the underside of his wings flew over me... nearly hitting me in the forehead.  He was screaming.  After circling above me a few times, he disappeared.  I kept walking.  It felt very realistic.

When I got to the other side of the meadow, I returned to a child like curiosity and immediately ran into a grove of trees.  Eventually I came to a small cliff like place with a hole or cave in the center.  I got down on my knees and looked in the hole as far as the filtered light would allow me to see.  I saw that there was a wounded rabbit at the bottom of the large hole.  I crawled down face first, getting mud all over my arms and my dress.  Right before I got to the rabbit, I felt something hit me in the back.  I looked up startled only to see a group of people throwing rocks at both of us.  I fell down beside him and noticed that he was bleeding bright red blood.  We kept getting hit with their rocks until we both lay in a puddle of blood staring at each other.  We had to wait them out before trying to climb back up.

Also while in Hope...  I read on,

 And he came to the conclusion that human perception is merely light perceiving light.  He also saw that matter is a mirror - everything is a mirror that reflects light and creates images of that light- and the world of illusion, the Dream, is just like smoke which doesn’t allow us to see what we really are.  “The real us is pure love, pure light,” he said.  

~Don Miguel Ruiz, The Four Agreements, Introduction. 

Rabbit Hole Recordings: the hole in trees 

      

Need I even mention the irony which astounds me?

Hope, Texas

Hope, Texas: rocking chair and soda on a hot day

Well, we made it to Hope, Texas.  It didn’t take long outside the city for me to feel lighter.  The folks in Hope still sit on their porch and smoke tobacco pipes.  I saw an old man picking on a guitar.  I was stopped at a stop sign and he waved.  Then from the front porch of one old WW2-style house to another... somebody waved at me.  It was a nice break from the pace in town.  It was something straight out of a Blues documentary  you would see on PBS.  But nothing was real sad about this quiet town, at least not for me.  The trees seemed taller and the ground was healthy green.  There was one gas station.....  they still have a Slurpee machine!!!  I got a blue one for old times sake! haha Remember those?

Hope, Texas: quiet town

Re-Run and I bummed around town all day.  When the day was done, I didn’t feel like leaving so the waitress at the cafe told me there was an old motel “down the way”.  I figured,  “why drive back late anyhow?”.. So I got a room.  They were fine with Re-Run so that was cool.  She slept inside with me.  Funny she seemed more relaxed than usual and not startled so easily by every little noise.  It was nice to get away.  I even read some out of a book given to me a while back, The Four Agreements.  Now that’s not something I do very often.  It was the book everyone was reading last year.  I like the dedication in the front,

To the Circle of Fire,

those who have gone before,

those who are present,

and those who have yet to come.

I also tried my hand at writing.... not just rambling and blogging.  But really writing.  Prose-poetry type stuff.  I mostly wrote a lot of nothing and came out with a few good lines.  When I write something really good, I will share it.  For now, I think I will earn my dues. Don’t get your hopes up!!!!  Get it?

Hope, Texas: the burning tree

Weekend Road Trip

Think I will take a drive this afternoon.... Just me and Re-Run.  Jackson, the bird, will have to stay in his cage.  We have put him on watch duty while we are gone.  Maybe I should teach him something clever to say in case someone comes knocking on the door.  

Weekend Road Trip: Jackson on patrol

Sigh, where to go?  I don’t necessarily need to go far. The mission is to step out of my norm and hopefully discover what has come over me.  A mini breather will be good for me. 



View Larger Map


PERFECT, my destination is Hope Texas!  See you tomorrow, Hope!

Weekend Road Trip: on the road (by Kayla)

Slow Motioned Pigeons

I don’t know if it is something that happens at this age or the times we are living in or what!!!  But I have been seeing things in slow-motion lately.  When the pigeons fly out from under a bridge...  time seems to slow down.  When the guy who spins signs at the cell-phone store down the street,  it seems to spin extra slow now.  

I have taken note of my hands, my fingers, each strand of hair on my head.  I have never been this way before.  I use to be easily satisfied and pre-occupied... was never the book worm artsy type.  I kind of felt sorry for those girls.  Now I am thinking they were on to something.  I have prided myself in believing that I am “good”... that I help people.  I never realized that I do care about money and material possessions.  I care about them and am incarcerated by them.  My friends come by and enjoy them with me then go back to their lives.  I am no different than the pigeons or the thug spinning signs on the street side.  

We have all tricked ourselves into thinking we are good...  that we are in a position to help the ones who are “lost” or not as well off.  Meanwhile we can’t even look ourselves in the eye.  Maybe that is why Re-Run keeps staring at me, through me.  Maybe she is waiting for me to really exist.  Maybe she is waiting for me to become a real live girl.

Slow Motioned Pigeons : a real live girl

When The Caretaker Goes On Vacation

I could EAT.... or I could WRITE.  I could stay or I could go.  

When The Caretaker Goes On Vacation: on the road

“Should I stay or should I go now”, 
this is the current question.  I think I need to get away from the city..  Maybe even out of the country for a while.  I can’t just sit here going in circles.  I am tired of being a lost puppy and I want to be a wolf.  I want to see new things and maybe find myself, as they say, along the way.  


Europe has been calling my name.  So I am thinking about taking a trip there.  It would be nice to live there for a period of time.  I have yet to dislike any thing that came out of Spain and I wonder if everyone can feel that burning flame deep in their gut.  It’s a flame that is rapidly turning into a fire inside of me.  

When The Caretaker Goes On Vacation: the burning inside

All my life I just help others.  I am a caretaker.  I helped my parents, my grandparents, the neighbors, kids, my pets, other people’s pets, random boyfriends and friends who all eventually move on.  They get married (not the pets of course)....  But the friends I have had.  They have all gotten married, come out of all sorts of closets, moved to other towns, other states.  Some have had kids.  They own houses and grow their own vegetables in their backyards or they drive SUVs and enroll their sons in sports.  My parents have moved.  My grandparents have passed and my fantastic Aunt Gaggy has passed.  I don’t even know where my baby brother is half of the time and even Sweet Kayla has joined the Peace Corps.  I know there is a greater meaning in life, I want to find mine, a small justification for my existence. Making everyone smile all the time is fine and all.  But it’s becoming harder for me to do anyway.  

The Bad Bathroom Spaghetti Western

Well....  the music has lifted my spirits while I am still waiting for the Sun to show her face.  

THE BAD BATHROOM SPAGHETTI WESTERN: hopping trains

THE BAD BATHROOM SPAGHETTI WESTERN: under the hat

I have gone face to face with myself in the bathroom mirror a few times and it feels like a bad spaghetti western.  I have been contemplating the notion of depression and have to wonder if we perpetuate it by insisting that I am, You are, we all are Depressed.  The thing is... 

“You can’t run from yourself.”  Life is wild when a look in the mirror feels like a high noon draw, holsters at the hip and heavy spurs on the heel.  Elvis Presley singing some well known tune in the background as you meet yourself face to face hesitant to peek out from under your hat.  Is this depression or is it simply a new perception?

Re-Run is learning to “speak” and sounds like she is saying “I love you” a lot. I love her too! I have volunteered to take care of a neighbors bird this week and I think the two of them talk when I am out.(Just to add more strangeness to the scene, ha),  The bird is a Cockatoo and he is a hoot.  Strange Days.... These days are strange.  Me, music, a wolf-dog,a borrowed bird, and imaginary gun holsters hanging around my hips.  All the while, still an unexplainable longing to go somewhere or do something. 

Maybe it’s the weather.  Texas is so bi-polar.  She waits until everyone is parched and half-minded to turn to whiskey before bringing the rain.  Then when she brings it, the relief is mixed with confusion.  A little sprinkle here, a little sprinkle there.  Then boom, have some thunder and lightning.  This all tangled up with filtered sunshine, humidity and temperatures that get into the triple digits.  

(This has been your weather girl Rachel Perkins once again... BANG, BANG YALL)

POSTER CHILD FOR THOSE DEPRESSION COMMERCIALS?

Hot and Dry, Hot and Dry ...  

I am bored with this weather.  I am bored with this city.  Re-run is bored with this city.  I feel like there is a pissed off little girl scratching at my insides to get out... GET OUT!!!  

POSTER CHILD FOR THOSE DEPRESSION COMMERCIALS?: childhood blurring

My friend told me that I was a “Poster child for those commercials”... You know the commercials they show on T.V. to determine whether you are depressed or not.  Maybe I am depressed.  Maybe, just maybe we are all depressed on some level or another at this point.  Maybe I am even Manic. I thought I had kicked this dark-goth like cloud out of orbit.  What gives?!  And why is she suddenly picking up on this thing?  I am torn between really listening to what she has to say and having something to say about her, it, this thing.

My own skin has become uncomfortable.  

Everyone has always liked being around me.  I was always the one they would call when they were down or having problems.  I did everything I could and I liked being that way.  But now I can’t help feeling like there is no room for me to be sad... no space for me to be down.  When I do...  it lets all of them down and that kills me.  I am the one who set it up like this though... not them!  I proclaimed myself “kind and nurturing”.  I wrapped myself in this wholesome identity so tight. Now I can’t even begin to tell you who I am.  I only have ideas of who I have been and who I am suppose to become, nothing more.... JUST IDEAS. I refused to express sadness and chose to laugh about tragedy, especially my own.

I feel like a bird in an egg that could crack any day.  

POSTER CHILD: the spinning of my "mitote"

I am a Dali sketch never published.  I am a reflection behind years of smoke.  I cannot even see myself.  There is no way I could even begin to explain myself to anyone.  On top of that, I’m not sure if explaining myself should be a goal in itself.  My little brother said that we are all born selfish.  It was a philosophy in which I argued passionately against.  Not until now have I looked at it differently and considered that he may have been right.  






JON-MICHAEL, MAYBE YOU WERE RIGHT!

These Soundtrack Days

These Soundtrack Days: The Record Spins

If these days had a soundtrack, 

what songs would be playing now?  Details are not in yet.  However I know that the diversity would be great, ranging from carnival tunes:

to old country tunes: 





 and a little bit of angry music thrown in it.  





It used to be that we watched movies and read the magazines.  We got excited about MTV and Vogue.  Now, there is hardly any time for that and our lives have become badly written pop songs geared toward teeny boppers who write poetry on their shoes and think Shakespeare is nothing more than a facebook page.   Oh my, could it be that I am becoming one of those people who quotes Shakespeare and carries around collections of poets.  

Ha, I suddenly remembered some painter friends I had in my early twenties who painted on old pizza boxes because they could not afford the canvas.  I still have one of them hanging in my living room.  It’s really cool actually and I had it framed last year.  

These Soundtrack Days: Water is Life

As for me lately, 

I have had 2 or 3 dreams about water.  They are so real that I could probably paint them on an old pizza box if I had the hand for it. 

Things are fine.... 

why I am so moody?  Is this some sort of Karma?  I suppose I have always been more comfortable around animals than people.  But I have been social, loving, helpful.... I have tried to be a good friend, a hard worker, someone who sees things positively...... haven’t I?  

How can things be so beautiful one moment and so painfully meaningless the next.  

I need to either take a break or get busier.  Either way, something’s gotta give.

Standard Time

Seriously!!!!  Am I always the first one to get up these days?!!  

Standard Time: The Throw Down

The throw down 
went pretty good last night.  The guy I met at the snow cone stand didn’t come by and I found myself thinking of him time to time.  I never caught his name so he will forever be known as “the guy at the snow cone stand.”  I wondered what his story was and why I met him and felt like I had known him for millions of years.  Thinking about him made the room slow down around me.  There were moments, brief milli-seconds where I felt exempt from standard time.  It was strange and similar to that feeling triggered by this “new” reflection of my self in the mirror.  It was similar, yet happier. 

I watched as friends and friends of friends gathered in my flat.  

They laughed and danced.  They were beautiful, all of them. That was last night of course.  Judging by the drool falling from their mouths this morning I would say they may have drank more than I did last night.  I keep trying to tell them that wine is for sipping... not tripping.  But they had a good time and smiled a lot.  It was, again, worth it. 

Standard Time: Sippin' 

Got a lot to do today.... still waiting for the sun to show her hot face.  I guess she is worn out too.  It is 10:13am and no Sun.  Just clouds.  Looks like I will have to get things done around the house.  

(“Weather girl, Rachel Perkins... bringing real weather to real people!” ~wink)  She strikes again!!!!

Dreamsicle

Interesting day.

It was hot and sunny again.  Although some clouds have begun to move back in. (courtesy of your faithful weather girl, Rachel Perkins).

Dreamsicle: Time

I woke up early... 

before the alarm even went off.  So I made some coffee for everyone and left before they all woke up.  I thought it would be nice for them to wake up to the smell of coffee.   mmmmmmm  I love a good cup of Jo.

Dreamsicle: Jo

It wasn't too blazing hot 

(wearing my shorts and another tank) to go rollerblading down Avenue E before the city 

got too busy.  I took the wolf pack for a ride.....or should I say that they took me for a ride.  Ringo, Rascal, and of course Re-run are the dogs at the kennel with wolf breed in them.  The newest edition, Starr, still has some growing up to do before she becomes part of the roller blading excursions.  

I didn’t take them out yesterday with the others so I decided to let them pull me.  It has become a favorite past time of mine... And they seem to enjoy it.  I held on to all three of the leashes as they pulled me.  They are built for this kind of team work.  It was a blast!!!!  I noticed that the New Orleans Style shaved Ice trailer was open.  We stopped in for a couple, one dreamsicle for me and a bowl of shaved ice for them. They know us there. When I was sitting at the picnic table minding my own business...  enjoying my dreamsicle, a guy approached me. 

He seemed like your typical frat boy reject at first.  

Then he said he liked the dogs and that he had a timber wolf at home that was a rescue from Colorado.  He said that since he has gotten the wolf that he feels better about life.  That got my attention.  We talked for a good fifteen minutes and without really knowing me, he seemed to know me very well.  He slightly reminded me of my baby brother, Jon Michael and I have not felt that connected with anyone since Kayla.  He told me that he thought I was an old soul and that it’s okay to cry sometimes.  Geeeeesh...  he picked up on this thing that has recently revealed itself to me.  

Anyhow, I invited him to the party tonight.  But I have a feeling it’s not his cup of tea.  The girls are all getting ready in the other room.  I can hear them giggling and gushing over each others new dresses, skinny jeans and eighties styled t-shirts. I was going to get a new outfit today. Guess I forgot. I got plenty of garb to wear anyhow.  I hope the party goes well.  I really want to get my groove on and make another weekend count!!!