Tag Archives: death

my two year absence

A lot can happen in two years. A lot did happen in two years. There were a handful of hypnotic eye-opening experiences in India, as well as a a slightly disturbing observation in the duty free shop in Qatar. The stories start here. I came home with a new mindset and a plan to make some serious changes in my life. I adopted Rocky to fill the hole left in my heart from losing Tigger the year before. His arrival could not have been more serendipitous, one week later after an unbearably hot July my universe was shaken to its core when my father passed from this life to the next. Those stories are here.

Next came a year’s worth of weekends searching for a new home, and then this past March moving to a new neighborhood. Now almost 5 months in, my Saturdays are spent looking for furniture and sprucing up the deck. You can find out all about that here.

I’ve taken a very long hiatus from my writing and luckily that well is being replenished even as I type this “welcome back to me” post. In addition to ramblings about life and the occasional blast of poetry when the mood strikes that you’ll find here, I’ll soon be launching a new site, http://www.leavetolive.org — the content explores a new philosophidea (I just made that up combining philosophy + idea) of giving ourselves permission (aka leave) to live our lives.

more to come,

– a


dreamscapes

What is it about being sick (in this case with a sinus infection/cold/cough) that makes you dream so vividly, almost frighteningly so.

In a span of 6 hours I went from whimsical and positively light reverie to trolling the depths of despair and darkness.

The beauty of a wheat field

late night

I am in a deep sleep and the lulled scent of fresh flowers, of life, wakes me. I am in a building cut in half, like a diorama where anyone passing on the outside can see in even though the surrounding streets are empty. There is a cool breeze the type that is awaken by a mid-summer day and curls around your skin like silk beckoning you to begin the day. There…here it is twilight in this room where I’ve been sleeping. No larger than a broom closet, and a male voice asks why I am sleeping in such small quarters, but I do not feel the size of the room, only peace. Untangling tan legs from crumpled white sheets I walk towards the window. A large plate glass that reminds me of the loft scene in Ghost; nearby I hear the mewing of a cat and can vaguely see the shadow of one on the fire escape. I reach around the window, the wall to pick the kitten up, his fur is soft and blue gray and he is comforted by my touch. Just beyond the window there is an empty lot and I can see 2 figures: a man and his daughter. The child is wearing a pink dress, her dark hair cut in a pageboy; she laughs and waves to me, I smile and wave back.  I blink, the scenery changes. Now there is a meadow with a small lake bordered by dark gray cobblestones slick with moisture, the grass is yellow green and surrounded by wheat flax rising on the hills. It reminds me of the rolling leas and mountains on the drive to Lake Tahoe with Mon Frite.  To the left there is a playground shaded by a large oak tree that appears to be growing adjacent to my building, almost as if the building and tree are one. There is a barn, actually no a monkey bar set with a yellow thatched roof, the oak branches sway side to side and I feel content, blissful even. And when I wake it is 2AM.

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Wooden Cabin Ominous Dark Storm Clouds © http://farm4.static.flickr.com

early morning

We are in a courtroom. I am dressed in a simple black dress, fingering a strand of pearls at my neck. My mother is there, except she is older, her hair is white, as if she were here with me in 2011. She is also dressed in black. In my dream, there is a young boy maybe 6 or 7 and he is drawing in a sketchpad. We appear to be waiting. A non-descript man appears, his presence ominous almost fearful. He pulls me aside with mom lingering nearby one eye on me, one eye on the boy. His words are unclear but his tone undeniably forceful; when he is done he calls to the boy who looks up and follows him without question.  I seem to be trapped where I stand, now in the middle of the courthouse lobby. The walls are stone cold, the marble floor dull and gray, there is but one chandelier lit. The bulbs reminiscent of movie marquees from the 70s, only these one circular, the glass frosted. I look toward the staircase, the boy grows smaller and smaller in the distance. A woman resembling my mother walks over to me, holds me close and whispers with a soft Irish brogue, “It is for the best my love.” I feel my heart break, and my body starts to shiver uncontrollably. And that’s when I wake up at 11AM feeling ill and disoriented, hungry yet nauseous, mind unclear and foggy.


here is now

she’s a longtime friend.
who’ll be there in a heartbeat,
once she gets the call.

your long-lost sister
full of advice and laughter:
who knows you so well.

once upon a face
when we met, before email:
voices on the phone

two lives connecting
old-fashioned, memories shared:
practical magic.

navigation: on,
the highway is still open.
despite the distance

you’re still thick as thieves.
you can’t imagine a time
when you may not be.

life, flash in the pan.
Hiroshima strikes, one word:
the world’s upside down.

shoulder wet with tears
she hides her own as you cry
and hugs you tighter.

what was it we said?
we will be invincible,
and forever young.


Hero mom remembered (Luisa Chan 1/30/10)

paper tragedies:
five lives lost. so close to home.
they say it’s arson,

retaliation,
gang-related vendetta.
sheep mentality:

harm many for one.
how is this different from
terrorism? See.

Luisa’s final words,
a universal language:
take care of the kids.

In the News

Brooklyn Blaze Takes 5

Gothamist Report

Follow-up to past news reports suggest that the cause of the fire was not gang-related and instead was started by someone in the building. Full news article here.