Stress? I had it at one time,

I haven't worked at my other job in almost two weeks. The hostel has been my one source of timing and cadence. Jones from seven months ago would have found this cornucopia of time a major stress. I would have fallen apart at the void of motivating factors. But as I am now, I sit on the porch, I talk about sandwiches and books with my friends. I enjoy the breeze and the sound of the beetles in the trees. I observer the wind as it blows through the trees and the coming and goings of the people in the outlaying area. I've been reading the same book for two weeks, and laying in bed with the lights off and the TV unplugged, watching the shadows creep across my walls as the sun passes over head. I have 27 cents in my drawer and $0.00 in my savings account, with out a care about it. I lit a candle today in a holder and set it in the middle of my floor, just to watch it burn and sputter in the dark. The hum of my conditioner has become a symphony of comfort, with its back up orchestra, its part played by my ceiling fan. From moment to moment my phone breaks the seal of detachment and contentment with its pleading to be answered or responded to, an attention I'm happy to entertain as long as it doesn't disrupt my Haven, my Jonestopia for to long, or put to much demand on my time spent in the world between "productive" and non-defined moments.
I wonder now, what was I working so hard for? what was I chasing or running away from by diving head first into two, three jobs? I know I was scared to stop, to be for a moment. But what was the motivation behind that fear. Also, what is my motivation now, what direction am I heading in? Europe is on my horizon for next spring! How do I achieve that choice, but not cause discord in the world I have encased myself in?

pleading heart..!

Have you forgotten about me Jones, each day I sit in this cage, beating, supplying, pumping and working. All to maintain your life, your sense of being. Sure from time to time I miss a beat or get welled up in your chest. But I provide all I can for you and I've worked and studied for 32 years, the ways of love, of human interaction, of being human and no matter how I say it to you, you still seem to ignore what I'm saying.Share me with a man, give me to a man...Open me to a man, I as your heart and center have so much to offer, so much to give, so much to share with him.....I ack with the thought of breaking and giving up at the thought of alone, at the notion that I'll never feel another true and strong rhythm next to mine that another of my kind won't reach back to touch me. What must I do to get you to listen?!? Do as i ask or soon I'll go on strike!...

Process...process...processssss....

I keep going through my process, this one the whole life thing and I look at it wondering where this moment in my process is going. Am I gathering power, becoming a stronger better me? Am I winding down about to fade out of the ether and the fabrics of time and life? I have no idea! I do know how ever, that I'll keep moving forward and see where it takes me. Maybe I'm meant to become something great after this, to be something humble but able.

Love Letter to my past,

I sit here watching the cursor blink in and out of sight on the computer screen. I'm in wonder as I watch it dance and race across the screen as I write things down. Its foot prints behind are the P's the S's the E's, its wake is the sentence and the paragraph. If only life were as easy to fill with knowledge and wisdom as it is the screen with words. Life takes on a Tango effect at times only I don't know who my dance partner is. Is it Calypso or Aries, is it Quan-Yen or Ganash; is my unknown person me or the elements? I have no clue, but I keep dancing. I think that if I were to stop dancing right now I would simply fall.... I keep harping about myself and my self pity but like Pooh Bear I keep hearing myself say "Think Think Think," and "Oh my wheres my honey pot?" Two statements that are so amazing in their own nature. One thinking... As a scorpio that seems to be all I do some times is think think think; about tomorrow about two weeks ago, about last night about the where and the what nots. And then I wonder "Where IS my honey pot?" Isn't there some reward some where for finding your lost mind, or lost life? Should we be able to walk over to a bank some where and with draw say 13 months of happiness or get a loan on bliss? I mean I have ages of happy memories, memories that should be stored and recorded some where that I can go.
Memory one,
Ages ago there was a ship at the far end of Belmont Point a neighborhood of Nome Alaska. It had at one time been a cargo ship and sat at an amazing angle on the beach side. (Nome has miles of beaches); in the cargo hold of the ship the floor matched the pitch of the ship as it sat in its dilapidated state. If you stood inside it in what was the middle of the floor an amazing sense of vertigo came over you. We children of Nome named it Dizzy ship, "which my cousin couldn't say as a child and called it Busy Ship." We would spend hours playing tag on the ship jumping from railings, running across planks. Some times we would bring a pick-nick type lunch and sit out in the meek sun of a Nome afternoon and watch the tides roll in and out. I was happy there years ago, some of these afternoons should be vacuum sealed for later use.
Does my self forgiveness live there, in that memory? Or in Memories like it? What about the memory of a miss guided firecracker and the tundra of north beach, or the plastic chain of candy canes I saw on a tree ounce when I was eleven or the Bomb Fire on East End Beach or Summer Camp out by Salmon River? I don't know if forgiveness is back there anywhere, I don't even know if its today or tomorrow. I do know that I should pay more attention to the dance steps of what ever partner I have in this Tornado of a Tango and forget about Yester-year and Tomorrow-land and just enjoy the musics beat.

Stable, stability, stuck, unsure...

I was an urban explorer. I've spent a decade of my life transient from one point to another, seeking something that to me was not just unformed or unnamed but totally with out conscience.  What was this elusive lure that brought me from state to state and city to city.  This siren; that called me to Boston and New Orleans, to Anchorage and Seattle, this thing that drug me from Albuquerque to Denver and then Tucson.  What force called me endlessly to the reaches of American borders?......Love, Forgiveness, Need, Desire,  Were all names by which I have come to know the endless pace of the last ten years.  But love for whom, Forgiveness from what, Need of what, Desire for who,what?  

     This last stint of travel I've undergone started 7 months ago. A trip that crash landed me in the heart of downtown Seattle, at a hostel.  Working by day and witlessly searching the bleak world of Seattle night life in the stingy light of gay bars and taverns, well known pubs and pick up spots.  Letting any glimmer of affection pry its way into the dehydrated spaces of my clay cracked heart. My dream of finding love was gossamer at best, translucent at its worst.  Seattle was my own privet Beelzebub with a special ring in the spiral of soggy hell.  No corner showed promise, no turn landed me in hope.  As the months and my soul wore on I understood that everything was lost.  The universe having a wicked sense of humor offered me what I thought I was finding; the loss of everything I had ever had.  I was stuck, on a corner in Seattle, with a Blackberry phone that had no service, a backpack stocked with items of a lost life, a life as foreign to me as the tower of Babel or the Great Wall of China, and only the company of my feet and the sun to urge me into action.  Feeling dejected and abandoned by Seattle I set out on the road.

     I walked twenty miles out of the city to find the first of many rides to my new life in Denver.  Away from the wet and cold to just plan cold.  It was stuck in my mind that Denver was the platform from which I would launch my nose dive into new life, into a new me!  But Denver was simply the sock between me and the comfortable shoes I was looking for.  But the journey from point S to point D had a reason behind it....That reason was Josh.  A trucker that I fell madly for in the short time I knew him.  He didn't offer me affection or passion. Simply a warm heart, a smile that made me melt and a heat that drew moths from the moon light.  

     (Its time to get to Fridays,).....More tonight.