Saturday, December 27, 2008

Dream State

On Route 17, past Salamanca, a small sign by the side of the road: "Natural Area." As opposed to what? Beyond it, a scene that spreads to the vanishing point, land, houses, trees, empty warehouses, soil.

How bad can anything truly be? I have running water -- in the house. No need to go outdoors at dark-thirty, break the ice lying heavy on the surface of the trough. In the house.

I dream my computer has been stolen, and my laptop, and the external hard drive, everything, everything gone. My work, my life, my connection to things outside me, my toil of a year and a half. Gone, too, is the antique desk it stood upon. This is a desk that never existed in reality, unlike the computers. But it is taken anyway. The room is empty, echoing now. It is a room I never had, but would have liked if I did. The person who should have cared in my dream does not care at all: "Oh, why are you complaining?" And so I learn to stop.

Sudden Poem

Those early evening stars,
alight in a washed blue sky
(Repeat after me: "Ciel");

there for me
as I turned the car along a curve on the Berme Road
--and there are many Berme Roads here, none of which meet, so beware!--
but then, you
might have an epiphany, getting lost, cursing yourself,
at twilight in this part of the world where you often go out and
look for a very

Blessings often wear funny disguises--the earrings you unwrap, and think: Eewww; I don't like these at all. And then, over time, they transform into the pair you reach for every time you go out. They make you feel wonderful. Or, say, the funny fleece shawl/sweater thing, with no arms, your mother gives you one Christmas: When am I ever going to wear this? The short answer, it turns out, is every single chilly night, now; it alone permits you to sit up and read in bed. And so it is with so many gifts. Those tricky things.

Dreams carry with them the residue of the past, and a bit of the future. They are the bridge between night and day. Your fears, and your hopes. The year past and the one to come in one strange, half-known package. Pull the ribbon. See. See.


Charles said...

am freezing my bits off visiting Sara's family in Wisconsin. Why do people live where it gets this cold? Beyond me.

But, catching up on your blog, and (as computer geek) wanted to suggest, if I may, buy a SECOND external hard drive, they b cheep. do a monthly back up on it, and keep it at a seperate location, away from your house, etc...

that way, you never lose much more than a month of work.

Its just a suggestion. But helps me sleep better some nights when I fear for my ridiculous data, important only to me.

oh, and stay warm. Feh cold Feh! :)

Melissa Holbrook Pierson said...

Once again, friend Charles, excellent suggestions!

I am just back myself from a cold state--Utah--but its beauty makes up for its temps. My suggestion to you: take up skiing; make sure you have fireplace, hot tub, cocoa, and bourbon for when you get back. Voila! Learn to love the cold!

Charles said...

FEH! Phooey cold! Feh.

I did snowboarding twice (as skatepunk in my younger years, it was easy transition) sadly, it has to be done where it is cold.


fireplace, cocoa, bourbon, all good. as long as you can do it somewhere not-cold. :P

i heard somewhere, sometime the advice "Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft."

Well, I've been here since 2000, and I've become soft, in more ways than one. Tarzan poked my belly yesterday and said "Daddy, you are squishy"

It doesn't get really really cold here, nor really really hot. The days are beautiful for walks, motorcycle rides, and fun, the evenings always cool off enough the hot tub is a guilty pleasure.....


back up the data

Melissa Holbrook Pierson said...

Oh, Charles, you have obviously not visited the surpassing pleasures of splitting and stacking a cord of wood on a bitchin' cold winter's morn!

That said, I was feeling quite sorely tempted over Christmas vacation by my cousin's description of what appear to be the perfections of Marin County, where he lives (and surfs). In my next life, I'm thinking about living in that kind of climate. What are a few earthquakes to the delights of a warm sun?

Charles said...

have you ever had a flat while riding motorcycles? the rear tire gets a little squirmy, and the whole contraption wriggles left and right a little more than usual?

riding when an earthquake hits feels like your tires go flat, but only for a second or two, then then are unflat and you keep going.

the sun is brilliant, the water is beautiful, and it is a fabulous place for dogs to visit.

why wait for next life, just plan a springtime trip? Cousin in Marin? Marin trumps San Jose 3x.

you could totally fund the trip with a poorly planned book-signing at Zeitgeist in the Mission. I'll loan you a leather jacket to lend ex- biker cred.

Marin in spring is amazzingly worth it.

Melissa Holbrook Pierson said...

Actually, I never did get a flat while riding . . . hope to avoid one in the future, as well as an earthquake. Or both at the same time.

My spring will, I dearly hope, be devoted to finding a new house and living through the moving process (twice in the same year: arrgghh!). So big trip will have to wait. But I suspect Marin is equally gorgeous in summer and fall too.

"Do not put off joy"--very true. Except when you have to put it off for just a bit. Hopefully it will still be there whenever I am able to go find it.