Tuesday, January 18, 2011

The Waitress (Jonathan Byrd)

Nothing "of substance" this morning (and who says there has to be, right?... :-) - however, today's poem from The Writer's Almanac made me think of Jonathan's amazing song... and then I only needed two more components for a blog post. No brainer - enjoy!

SONG: The Waitress by Jonathan Byrd (can't find the lyrics but YouTube video here)...

Counter Culture: The American Coffee Shop Waitress by Candacy A. Taylor

POEM: Daily I Fall In Love With Waitresses by Elliot Fried

Daily I fall in love with waitresses
with their white bouncing name tags
and white rubber shoes.
I love how they bend over tables
pouring coffee.
Their perky breasts hover above potatoes
like jets coming in to LAX
hang above the suburbs—
shards of broken stars.
I feel their fingers
roughened by cube steaks softened with grease
slide over me.
Their hands and lean long bodies
keep moving so...
fumbling and clattering so harmoniously
that I am left overwhelmed, quivering.
Daily I fall in love with waitresses
with their cream-cheese cool.
They tell secrets in the kitchen
and I want them.
I know them.
They press buttons creases burgers buns—
their legs are menu smooth.

They have boyfriends or husbands or children
or all.
They are french dressing worldly—
they know how ice cubes clink.
Their chipped teeth form chipped beef
and muffin syllabics.
Daily I fall in love with waitresses.
They are Thousand Island dreams
but they never stand still long enough
as they serve serve serve.

QUOTE: "When the waitress puts the dinner on the table, the old men look at the dinner. The young men look at the waitress." ~ Gelett Burgess

Saturday, January 1, 2011

We'll All Meet Up Next Year (A New Year's Song) - (Deirdre Flint)

Today's TUT... A Note from the Universe:

Susan, soon the new year starts, so now's a great time to:

1. Wipe the slate clean.
2. Focus upon what you really want.
3. Chart your course.


Well... only if you want to risk having to repeat these steps for the same wishes next year! Maybe this is splitting hairs, but here's an adventurous alternative:

1. Give thanks that life is... just as it is (and that it's been... just as it's been). Because of it, you're now "READY."

2. Define what you want in terms of the end result. Don't worry about the hows, or even the course. KNOW that what you want is ALREADY yours in spirit, by divine LAW, just focus on the certainty of this ownership, understand it, claim it, and "it will be on earth, as it is in heaven (spirit)."

3. LET THE UNIVERSE show you the way via your impulses and instincts that appear as you take inspired action. Don't worry that your first steps seem silly or futile. And if you don't know what to do, do anything! Go! Get busy! Do not insist on intermediary successes, only upon the end result.

2011 is going to be your year (it already is),
The Universe

It starts now, Susan! This is your year! Happy beginning of something GREAT!!!

You really are READY Susan. And your self-confidence in my intuition and wisdom is ready for you.

Don't f*cking faint! - after taking 5 months off (for erratic behavior), I have now written and uploaded three posts in as many consecutive days. No promises... but the future bodes bright - pass the shades... :-)

So... as has become my custom each January 1, I subscribe to Christine Kane's Word of the Year concept - the last month I've experienced strong and intentional vibes and was gifted with a *Phrase* of the Year - Let. It. Go. (which is similar to my Release of a few years back, but somehow different). I will not explain but I know why I chose it and how I'll apply it - I will say that it relates to #2 of The Four Agreements (on my right sidebar)... and let it go (see... already putting it into practice) at that!

We hosted a lovely and fun Open House today with friends, family and neighbors - I am exhausted yet full... mimosas segueing to coffee interspersed with healthy spinach dip, raw veggies and a few bites of cookie...

SONG: We'll All Meet Up Next Year (A New Year's Song) by Deirdre Flint

Time to Let Go by Cary Cooper
(Cary just wrote this song a few days ago and posted it on her Facebook page - given the synchronicity, I had to include... :-)

BOOK: Writing Down Your Soul: How to Activate and Listen to the Extraordinary Voice Within by Janet Conner

POEM: begin here by
Maya Stein

When the last seat is taken,
or the key has trapped in the lock,
when the rain has eviscerated your garden,
or your words have run out one by one.
When the packing is half-finished, or traffic
keeps you from your purpose,
when the bright white of your day
has paled and pixilated.
When the grocery bag rips coming up the stairs,
when the telephone bill shocks
and then flounders you,
when love has flown off course,
when your nails are ragged and wanton,
when the runway is slick and the sky sodden.
When the ache for something nameless
fans out into your bones,
when you are hungry, or lost or in need of a hand
across your eyelashes.
When it’s deadline or dilemma
or just you tripping on the stained carpet of your trouble,
begin here.

Place one leaden, obstinate foot
where you can see it.
Gather your maniacal breath,
your little windbags of lungs.
Eye only the square of sidewalk a blink away,
that quadrant of concrete mottled with the dirty
evidence of living,
and go.

When the manual for what’s broken
has been misplaced, when the view is obscured
by a restless construction site,
when your closet is an echo of castoffs.
When the bridge toll climbs and the road
down the mountain is pummeled with snow,
when your face bears little resemblance
to the person you remember,
when the field is populated with abler bodies,
when poems have been written by nimbler souls,
when no amount of squinting
delivers oasis, begin here.

Guide your defeated arms
into a small fit of swinging.
Coerce your hips into the barest
shimmy. Locate the pocket of a single,
deserted minute, its hum of insignificance,
and go.

When cheer cannot cheer you,
when crumbs cannot feed you,
when the storage space in the garage
topples from the weight.
When beauty eludes you,
when the weatherman confirms your fear,
when the doctor bears his wild news.
When you return to the bad habit,
when the current continues its brutal tackle,
when mess is your middle name,
begin here.

Climb onto your weary haunches. Lift your belly
from its mattress cave. Initiate the wholly
unremarkable act of breathing, and go.

When you have had enough.
When you have had too much.
When your fortress has not kept away the enemy,
and the walls are an abscess of rubble.
Do not fling yourself from the gangplank.
Do not hasten your disappearance
with your own cruelty.
Do not mask your ferocity with a collage of good manners.

The death’s door of your failure
is still a door.
Wrap your shaking fist around the handle.
Hear the cricket click of the latch.
And begin.

QUOTE: “There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” ~ Louis L’Amour