:On Patience

Swallow Whole The Fruits Of Patience.  Juices Could Cascade Against Anxious Lips.  They May Consume Your Words.  You Shall Never Know, Although Thoughts Of Contentment Have Pressed Their Sweaty Bodies Against Your Nudity.  Your Nakedness Will Never Become Those Beads Of Anticipation.  So Drink Down The Nectar Of Ease With Gentle Mouths.  Juices Will Flow To Tongues And Warm Necks; But You Must Never Mistake This.  You Will Never Be That Patient.
[circa 07.15.06]

A Taste of The Foreign [Plug: Alice In Tin Angel Vol. II]

 Truth be told I was prepping myself for this event all month.  Just like Goapele; I knew having a piece of Alice Smith was definitely something I would have to soak up.  I feel these women will be the music I reflect on in my old age; trying to explain to my grandchildren why people like Nina Simone and Etta James are landmarks.  They'll just look at me. Probably thinking grandma Poe doesn't know which end is up.  But I have no shame in being that old broad --mumbling under my breath song lyrics since forgotten.  It is the most romantic experience I have yet to have.
  So you can imagine just how unbelievably scattered I felt riding down to the city with my fiancee.  Who by the way got to come home to me early from being out of the country for nearly a year.  It was all going too well.  So when we missed the first trolley that would take us to a connecting terminal I breathed a little sigh of relief.  I'm the type of person who cannot stand perfection.  It cripples me honestly.  I fear for the good and always expect the worse.  I mean what is that?  Type A personality?! o_0  Ahh who the fuck really cares?  I like my aggression because it's countered by my over-emotional tightly wound carefree attitude.  Lost yet?
  When we did finally get to the venue; the same tiny spot set right by the waters of Penn's Landing and snuggled between the beautiful restaurant, Cuba Libre and offbeat bar, Blue Martini.  This area here...is definitely what I define as my Philadelphia.  I always feel completely in my element when I'm around the beatniks.
  The lady and I managed to grab the last available table which was sat next to the sound booth and seconds away from the bar.  I donned my signature extra dry martini with a lime and waited for the hum to come to a quiet still.  As I was chatting it up with my girl we saw a frantic woman come around a tight corner leading from downstairs.  Her walk was tilted as if she had to used the restroom in the worse way; her shirt fell off her shoulders and she seemed to be carrying a tiny bag full of what sounded like a thousand sets of keys as she jiggled passed us.  I instantly made a crack at how extraordinary rushed she appeared.  Then my girl lightly comes back with: "I think that was Alice."
  Of course it was; how could I miss that classic girl next door, i-don't-know-how-pretty-i-am Sanaa Lathan type of bubble that exuding from her aura?  It was probably due mostly to how fabulously chilled this vodka was against my gut and the distracting beauty and conversation of my fiancee.  But she's the observant type...the Type B.  That is why she's my first marriage.  Haha. 
  No sooner than her sweeping passed us did we see Alice and her pianist climb onto stage with ease.  They had done this before; the Tin Angel was no foreign scene to them.  Instantly she lunged into a new song that I hadn't heard before and it was a shame because I still didn't catch the name at the end.  But just like the first time I heard "Do I" I had no clue the name...I researched on weeks' end until I came across it in an article she had with a Washington online zine.  I'll find this song too.  I must.
  A mini confession...I have been YouTube stalking Alice Smith for anything and everything I haven't heard.  And like a miracle straight from some unworldly haven; I came across "Moving Lights"

                                                                        
  How could you not fall in love with that?  I mean I was kind of rethinking if my favorite song was even "Do I" anymore.  I think after the mental debate in my head for the last three weeks only went in a circle I knew I had to hear both songs live for me to actually determine anything worth caring for.  So when she sang almost four new songs; I knew that Moving Lights had to be among the next few.  Like I said I hate perfection...but my prayer couldn't have come true at any better moment than when the piano started the sultry melody of that very song. 
  I heard of it only by way of technology; which is kind of horrible but I'm glad I was able to experience this only after having known what it was.  Of course you know all lesbians must watch the Showtime series The LWord; since cancelled and The Real LWord; a new reality series hosted by the same network.  Because it is encoded in our DNA.  Well there was an episode in the original series where my favorite character and possible the sexiest lipstick/aggressive femme, Bette, passed out after seeing a painting.  Known as the Stendhal syndrome.  I mean I could not even begin to understand how a piece of art can move you so much you cannot comprehend it.  I suppose that all links back to the subconscious and all the things we tie to visuals.  To see them all within one thing at the same time...it must be the most overwhelming experience.
  And that is exactly what I felt when Alice Smith sang that song.  The tears felt so foreign to me and yet also apart of who I was exactly.  It confused and comforted me all the same. I'm not sure what it was but there is something so deeply passionate in wanting to go and not being able to.  I've felt that way for so long and kind of have allowed myself to stand in my own way.  Suppose hearing that song just made me realize I do not have to let myself be who I am.  I can change. 

  "Looking into the window.  Seeing all the faces.  Traces of the way I used to be.  This is not the way I saw things in my imagination.  What you get is not what you see.  I've got this plan to leave here.  And I'd be going soon.  But those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay here. Those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay.  I can't see beyond the window; I'm losing concentration.  Patience seems so hard to find.  Maybe I should take a new road...look for many spaces.  Somewhere I can take my time.  I thought I'd get to leave here.  And I'd be going soon.  But those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay here.  Those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay. Those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay here. Those moving lights...they shine so bright; they make me wait...they make me stay. "

Poetry [Plug: Standing Still Moving Over and Under the Wind]

My window is down.
Air so cold it spits at you.
I am.
Not here.
Just standing still and sitting there.
I will tell you the truth.
Sorrow has a name.
Her is somebody.
It's snowing rain.
And I am under the wind standing still moving up and down and up.

[circa dec.9 '07 3:18am]

:On Women

  The extent of my anticipation for this event came at the very hands of the internet.  I’m not sure where I fell into the cracks; but it seems I am now emerged with the onset of being “connected”.  FaceBook is my new friend –it tells me what I want to know and always pushes me in the direction of what I need to hear.  So naturally it reminded me that Goapele would be playing not less than two hours away from my hometown in a week.  I swiped the tickets without even thinking; knowing I would be able to get someone to tag along to this rare event. 

   Ironically, that was not the case at all.  My girl has been out of the country for almost a year so I’ve been playing house with my best friend; usually devoting most of my entertainment to living vicariously through her single life.  Unfortunately, she works weekends so she was out.  My other close friend was visiting with her military girlfriend and I didn’t want to take away from their time.  Slowly but surely it seemed that I was going to be forced into a rock and a hard place.

  I thus began the dreaded yet exhilarating excursion of recalling every woman I could stand long enough to trek on journey with me.  It felt a little great knowing I could still find a place where I wasn’t the worse candidate to these women.  Because not so ironically I am the telltale story of a lesbian; I love women but somewhere along the line they start hating me.  I’m a leo.  I cannot help but be a little skewed.  The bottom line is I want what I want when I want it; and I’m right and you’re wrong.  Even if it is to the slightest degree –I will find a way to prove my point…no matter how ill-informed it may be. [End Tangent]

   So I called all the exes.  Out.  Either they were what I liked to call: playing hard to get.  And I don’t mean in a sexual way.  It seems that we can be virtual friends; sort of like my relationship with FaceBook.  But women have feelings it turns out.  They think just because I invite them to a concert that they don’t even like that I need to pay and take them to dinner and fucking show my feathers like I’m some sort of Casanova trying to land a hobble telescope on the moon.  Too much?  Well nonetheless I did have to show some feathers.  I did have to beg and try to meet these girls half way.  But then I realized how exhausting it is to be single.  To be living vicariously I think is as best as I can do. 

  To make a long story short I ended up deciding that going alone was the better of the choices.  Funny thing happened though; at the last minute one of my New York friends came through and told me how she was stoked about the event.  Weirdest thing how I always stress and grovel over the tiniest things and they never end up being as bad as I think.  I guess being a pessimist has its perks…sometimes. 

  Nonetheless; the concert was worth every hassle.  It was worth going through the Holland tunnel twice for absolutely no reason.  It was worth paying a ton in tolls and calling every girl in my phonebook to drudge up shitty memories.  You know why; because when Goapele sings she shines.  It's funny the shit we do for women.  I mean why did I even need to have a jawn next to me?  I suppose it's because the event was so intimate and romantic that ultimately I was ashamed I didn't get to spend it with my girl.  Being able to enjoy the sounds of Goapele in a cool hum really just made my night.  I even got this banging ass photo.  It was the highlight of my summer so far and it hasn’t even began.