chasing shadows again

…I humbly present for your attention these Evil Overlord Lists. Please do not smite a fox. I hope they are helpful as you plan for world domination.


[I suppose others might also enjoy these lists, but they are linked because visiting Ashish reminded me of them.]


{September 25, 2007}   Lonely?

Visit Dunkin Donuts.  At any given time on an average day, 29 other people will join you in buying coffee in the same second you do!  Hold up the line with small talk, and you may be buying coffee with about two-hundred other people.

If I move to somewhere with a Dunkin Donuts nearby, I will never be lonely again!

{September 1, 2007}   and sometimes also

And sometimes also that cotton candy soul tearing will happen.  But life will still be indescribably beautiful.  Even while you’re crying, trying simultaneously to listen to your ex-fiancee breathing and hang up the phone.

And get over the fact that you just responded to “tell me a story” with the plot synopsis of Chill Out Scooby-Doo!.

Or the fact that you’re still in love with him.

Falling in love with more than one person at once is not as easy as it looks – it is both a thousand times more complicated and a thousand times more simple.  It is a raindrop falling into the ocean and a fractal pattern of light and an unending number kinda thing like Pi.  Strawberry.  Strawberry Pi.

{September 1, 2007}   sometimes

Sometimes, I remember that love can wash the colors in the sunset clean.

I bought rose-colored glasses.

I have orchids that are pink, and a toe-ring that is a heart shot through with an arrow.

I am in love with such depth that it could tear my soul apart like cotton candy. Instead, love makes the world seem suddenly infinitely more precious.


This is why I live.  Even now, when I can hardly remember who I am, this reminds me.

I am in love. It’s all been worth it. It all will be.

As always, walking through the market makes me whole again. This market was the Hilo Farmers’ Market and was complimented by a stroll along the Bayfront shops. The first stop of real interest (defined as where I bought something) was the tobacco shop where I found cloves (Djarum Blacks) and while looking for those found something else from Djarum (do they make things I don’t like? Not that I’ve ever tasted!) Spice Islands Cigarillos (baby cigars!). I have never had a baby cigar (or even a grown up cigar) but Jason likes cigars and I hear generally good things. However, I would have to try to come up with a way to not look like a goof with a cigar grown up enough to have babies. These tiny cigars that smell like clove and vanilla and lust just might be my compromise.

After the tobacco shop (Where I got carded! People – I’m 26!) I proceeded to the the market by way of about four other shops. I saw some gorgeous coffee and tea sets (I am a home things addict and I want a nest! Now! My baby clock has confused itself with the countdown timer on a bomb!) which I passed only because I both had not enough money with me and had nowhere to keep them.

At the market, everyone wanted me to come see their things! If I keep walking, I’m not buying, and they have this habit of meeting my eyes. This is my undoing. I HAVE to acknowledge everyone who meets my eyes. I look. They look. I smile. They smile. I nod. They say hi. Now it’s escalated and I’ve already had to stop walking so I might as well look at their stuff. I deliberately carry under $40.00 to the market, because if I carried $4,000.00 I would still spend it all. I am in love with all things handmade, set in silver, made of Thai silk, or offered by a real human being and not a full on advertising campaign. I cry when tiny, locally owned stores are bulldozed for Walmarts.

This time at the market I got delicious soap in vanilla (Gentle Earth Vanilla) which is heavenly. I also got orchid soap, which smells amazing. If you need soaps….check these people out! The only way they could be better is if they also had chocolate soap. Which I will suggest next I see them. Yes – see! Because I met the person who makes the soap. She smiled at me. Clearly her soap would smile if it could! Fox, you say, this is no way to judge soap. To which I can only respond, this soap is fantastic, just like I knew it would be.

I also picked up a chocolate scented orchid. This is also like heaven.

There was a time I loved floral scents, but lately, this last year or so, it’s vanilla, chocolate, and spice. That’s what I want to smell like. That is what I want people to remember me when they smell. Smell is very linked to memory. Strawberries and champagne is not me. Please god, let people not associate me with freesia (which scent I wore for years as a teenager, actually). I want to be rum and death by chocolate mousse. Vanilla. I’ll take Grand Marnier.

Hello universe. I think that your fox has come home to you.

I have been quiet lately.  Life has been insane.  One way or another, it will work itself out.

It is 8:10am here, and I have already gotten my coffee and gone for a walk in the early morning rain.  I actually arrived back in my house from my walk to find my alarm had started going off in my absence.   (An alarm set for five of seven, for those who are curious.)

Lucien has been growing like crazy, all green leaves and fluff.  The plantlings that survived the drought are all green and trying to grow as fast as they can to reach the sky.  They are very excited to be alive.  And very cute.

Also very cute is emo-puppy!

This is emo-puppy himself!

Our darling mutt dog Patch managed to out-queen himself!  Patch, who tends to lie with his front paws daintily crossed and likes nothing better than to groom the other dogs, is always a little adventure.  I came out a few days ago to see Patch lying on the porch, being even more emo than usual, watching my every move with his eyes but too oppressed by angst to lift his head off the porch.  I asked my mother if he’d been fed, and she said he head been too good for his food, and so our other dog had eaten it.  I got him food, which he stuck his face in, jerked it out, and then look up at me with the best look of absolute betrayal ever.  Then, eventually, he picks up one piece of food in his mouth, rolls his eyes to look up at me, and then spits the food back out into his dish!  This (from the dog who eats almost everything!) is extra-special drama.

And, another picture of emo-puppy, for your amusement!

Who would give this dog to the pound?

if I had it
I would give you the world and all of the stars
nowhere else makes me feel beautiful
the careless smiles I get here
are not the same
as the triumphant leer of the men who buy me drinks
then try to take me to their beds
which I will leave in the morning with nothing more than what I came with
hollow and sad
as the walls which do not cradle homes
only furniture
walking through this market
feels like coming home
as if the colors and the gravel and the sky can cradle
what the shells of apartments and houses cannot
I can feel the leaves of orchids and rows of Thai silk
reach out to touch the bananas and the old books
who throw spiderwebs of their souls out to
jewelry and crepes and honey and soap
offering to hold the world
offering to hold me
though I know that the closest I will come to that promise
is the brush of fingers
as I pay for orchids and honey
the artwork and the silk and the jewels
that I wrap around me like a quilt to keep out the dark

Walking through the open air market always feels like coming home. This time before the market, we stopped at Sirius Coffee where the same man as last time made my coffee, and I swear that somehow he puts love in it. Or maybe that’s the extra chocolate. This time when I asked for a small mocha after contemplating, he negated that decision with a “how can more chocolate and more whipped cream be wrong?” He wins. I love that place. It has an internet cafe kinda thing, and one day I may go there to write to you, where I can have many mochas. If anyone reading this makes it to Pahoa and does not go in for coffee (and to read the many, many bits of paper and stickers on the counter) you are missing something you should have had. If you never make it to Pahoa, you are doing the same, but more understandably so. I understand that not everyone will fly to the islands, though much like Fuji, it is something I cannot imagine living without. There are some things, some places, that add a kind of richness to the world. I have cherished all of them I have found, though I have found few of them.

Today there were people to say hello to, people who are starting to know me. I was not going to buy honey, but my honey seller (there are two and I only buy from one – he charmed me and I think he may charm bees) had honey sticks! I still had honey for both the altar and the kitchen (and for my Ravyn, I so have to mail you your honey! Remind me!), but honey sticks! I could not say no. Anyway, he always makes me smile. And last time I was there I tasted both his new kinds of honey but didn’t buy any. 😦 I need to make money so I can buy his honey and ship it all over the earth. People who tell me what flowers the bees were eating and show me the different tastes that makes and talk to me like I’m a person should get my money. I just have to have it first.

Again, the man who sells the used books out of his truck was there, and though I have books I still looked and brought home a book on Islamic art. There are other book sellers, but this one has the unusual things, and he talks to people. He does not talk as much to me, but many people he recommends books to. I suppose he has to learn what I like first. That is where I bought Snow Falling on Cedars which I loved for its peaceful kinda sleepy longing and truth. More people should be able to use darkness to show us light. I highly recommend that book to anyone.

I brought home an orchid, who I believe is named Ishmael. He is in my room now and I smile to look at him. Delilah, the night blooming jasmine I have planted in a pot to live with me (Lucien’s sister cutting!) is here too, on the corner of my desk. So is the lumpy lemon tree I planted from a seed, who needs a name. So anyone who knows what a lemon tree might be named should tell me here. Ishmael and the lemon (who I think is also a boy) are sharing a wire basket because Ishmael is too heavy on one side and topples over.

We have a coffee plant too now, and it seems to me that the coffee, the vanilla, and the cocoa plants should all live together. But then, I’m weird. We have a few more cocoa bean I should start. I want to make a shade thing for the cuttings with some mesh, so they will not fry. I need to sort through my books and decide which will be boxed (until I have shelves, at least). And I need a table. I kinda want to make one. Then I can build in boxes to hold pens and plants!

I have to finish my resume and stuff (and do secrets!) and organize and…I’m just full of things to do. But I will leave you with quotes from the two beautiful cards I got at the market today.

“We often confuse spiritual knowledge with spiritual attainment. Spirituality is not a matter of knowing scriptures and engaging in philosophical discussions. It is a matter of heart culture, of immeasurable strength. Fearlessness is the first requisite of spirituality. Cowards can never be moral.” ~ Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi

“What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice. And justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.” ~ Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr


{May 26, 2007}   hello to the cosmos

Tomorrow, I should garden. I have successfully not gardened in a bit (by which I mean one day I spent doing laundry, one day it poured, one I was lazy and today I was tired and doing my resume and enticed out for a trip to Borders. I know I need to replant some cuttings because several of the babies fried. (Lucien was fine at last check – it was only the very new cuttings it was too sunny for. He is starting to grow little sproutings, so I should get pictures.)

Borders was fun. I got the most recent Poets and Writers Magazine, Every Which Way But Dead by Kim Harrison (it comes highly recommended from a good friend as a fun read), and Kabul Beauty School: An American Woman Goes Behind the Veil by Deborah Rodriguez (which seems like it will be amazing).

I came home hoping to get settled back into reading and talking to the other participants in the poetry carnival hosted by Poets Who Blog and was immediately distracted by the fact that my screen door was leaning on the balcony rail. It seems my puppy got into my room, the door blew shut to the hallway, and in a panic she managed to knock the screen door out onto the balcony – and excellent escape plan if the balcony actually had stairs. Put the door back on. Noted that she had peed on the floor. Cleaned floor. Sprawled out to do some reading and talking. Decided to take a nap. Found puppy had also peed on the bed! Drug all the blankets and sheets to the washing machine. Wrestled off mattress cover which is now in the wash. Twisted ankle doing so. Determined that anything I write will be extra grouchy and that I will finish after I no longer want to kill the puppy and/or growl at things.

For now, this is the extent of my chattering – I apologize for the fact that I am quiet and grouchy lately. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. Coffee and secrets is generally a good morning.


What can I say now
To the woman who understands as I do
That the past must be absolute
I cannot undo what has been done
Years have passed
Wounds that once bled have closed
Even if the scars remain
They remind us who we are
This is for you
I hope it is a kinder reminder than a scar
This is for you
With all of my love

You are my mother
The woman who inflicted me on the world
While people missed their football game
There are times I wonder if you are sorry
If you ever were
This is for you
Whatever the answer maybe
This is for you
With all of my love

You are my mother
The woman who taught me my first words
And hiked with me on your back through the woods
While I was too young to remember
This is for you
So that you know I cherish those things now
This is for you
With all of my love

My father taught me to love the everchanging ocean and that bears are beautiful – he gave me the sense of beauty in finding peace in things that could roll me under and rip me apart.
You taught me not to walk out too deep, to balance my checkbook, to always keep sight of the shore – I realize now that gift was no less.
This is for you
So that you know I am grateful for that
This is for you
With all of my love

You are my mother
The woman who was never afraid
The woman who could do everything
The woman who for years couldn’t tell me that you were proud of me
That knowledge I stole
Secondhand from my father like smoke from his cigarettes
This is for you
So you know that I heard
This is for you
With all of my love

You are my mother
The tiny woman who pushed cars
Who could get Brian’s truck out of the snow
And insisted I learn to check my own oil and change a tire
These were not so womanly as teaching me about painting my nails and doing my hair
But they were the gifts you had to give
This is for you
So that you know I still remember
This is for you
With all of my love

You are my mother
The woman who I swore I would never be
The reason I always wanted to run away from home
Now when I think about leaving
I know there will be this empty place where there was once sound
But you will not be far
You are always with me – your blood in my veins and nothing can take that away
This is for you
So that you know I am proud to be something born of you
This is for you
With all of my love

You are my mother
And some of your faults came to me too
I cannot tell you these things
Just as you could not tell me
I can feel tears threatening as I write this for you
Both because it is at once bliss and anguish
And because I am afraid you will never see these words
But this is for you
Because I’ve always wanted to tell you
This is for you
With all of my love

{May 24, 2007}   Wow.

In which a plan is orchestrated for love.

Aside from the part of me that is screaming ‘but the environment!’ I am completely behind this kind of thinking.  And I would like to share something beautiful with you.  It is, at worst, no more destructive than many other beautiful and accepted things (and probably hurts the environment no more than my share of the last plane flight I took for love, really).

et cetera