First page of the cigarette archive.

oh, dusk!

Posted by jessica on Sep 18, 2011 with 5 Comments
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Thoughts and Feelings
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Dusk has a way of setting the sky on fire.

It’s startling, really.

I like to go outside during that time; it’s when I want to look and look forever. It’s when everything around me feels so beautiful, that the longing I have for more! than! this!  feels met.

For a while, I mean.

I like to talk to God then. I don’t mind that the trees are listening; the trees feel kind at dusk. Like they agree with my dreams. Sometimes I walk by people’s houses. I try not to eavesdrop while they take a load off, enjoying their evening on the back porch with a cigarette and a beer. Sometimes a dog barks at me. And suddenly the bright orange dot of a cigarette waves in the air as I hear, “Stop, Sam!”  The words shoot out, quick and staccato, over and over again, like rapid fire. And I feel sorry for interrupting the backyard peace. I feel sorry that I am causing Sam to get yelled at. So I pick up my pace and the orange dot of the cigarette shrinks to nothing behind me as I go on my way.

I used to feel worse about people smoking than I do now. I mean, I don’t love the smell and I’m not about to start–but I understand a little better when people self-medicate. Or want to feel better. Or try to find comfort. I guess when you’ve hurt a lot, trying to soothe the pain makes some sense. I get it.

I used to feel worse about some things and better about others than I do now.

“How has your view on God changed over the past season of your life?” a very kind and magical lady from Iowa City asked me today.

And I told her that I am not sure, how, exactly my view of God has changed–other than I am more convinced of his kindness now than ever, I would add, now that I am thinking about it–but my view of people has changed. I love to hear them talk, but I care a great deal more about what they go and do. How they live their lives. It’s great if you can talk into a microphone like an auctioneer for Jesus, smooth and fast with shiny words that inspire people to raise their hands and buy whatever it is you’re selling, but are you kind? Loyal? Do you mean what you say? Do you keep your promises?

“I guess I don’t have time for the bull anymore,” I said.

And I think we both agreed that nobody does. That life is messy. That we all matter, and that both pain and joy teach us lessons you never really can walk away with from simply reading a book.

But back to the changing sky tonight.

It was glorious.

And so beautiful; the kind of beauty that makes me say thank you, whispered into the ear of creation itself, I guess.

what I see and what I feel.

Posted by jessica on Sep 26, 2010 with 4 Comments
in Funny Stuff, Loved Ones, photography, Thoughts and Feelings
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Well, Darby is the one who got to witness the man wearing the bikini, but at least we all got to see Jesus strolling along the beach.

Me (referring to the man in the bikini): are you sure he was a man?

Darby: yeah.

Me: and he wasn’t a tranny?

Darby: well, if he was, he wasn’t a very good one, cause he had a beard.

And really, if I can wear a bikini, who says that he can’t, I suppose.

But now, Jesus. Or rather, the man who looked a lot like all the pictures make him out to look. He came strolling along the beach, right before sunset. He was wearing a long white robe and had a nice short brown beard and thick brown hair that was about shoulder length. As he walked by, Jase mentioned how he left only one set of footprints, and how he must have been carrying us along, after all. The couple nearby guffawed over that for a good long time.

And then there was the guy who asked me if I had found his dollar, perhaps in my purse. I asked him what he needed that dollar for and he told me it was to feed his dog. The thing is that he did have a very sweet looking dog with him. So, even though I have never seen dog food that only costs a dollar, I gave it to him anyway. I saw him later smoking a cigarette. His dog still didn’t have any food. I hope that he fed him when I wasn’t looking or something.

I ran along the surf today. There were so many sailboats along the horizon, that I felt like being a painter for the day. It didn’t seem like the small fact that I have never been a painter for a day should get in the way–not when there was something so beautiful to paint right in front of me. I felt encouraged by the waves. The ocean and I go way back, and that has always been the effect it has on me. I am not sure that it can say the same about me, but I am okay with not having a totally reciprocal relationship with water, I guess. It also makes my face itchy; I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for the ocean’s face, let alone make it itch.

But today I was staring at the waves and I had this sense that life is a grand thing and that I am honored to be a part of it and, even though I don’t quite know how, it’s good now and it’s gonna be good then. Because really, all of my thens are the culmination of now and now and now, right?

Yes.

And I feel closer to God by the ocean. I am not sure why, but I’ll take it.

And I asked someone to take our picture tonight on the santa monica pier. And to quote a song that Lyric and Darby and I have sung before and that Lyric and I like to sing still: we’re special,

special,

special–

like a great white shark.

we’re special,

special,

special–

like a puppy’s first bark…

and then we usually start laughing and stop singing after that.

one cigarette

Posted by jessica on Oct 28, 2009 with No Comments
in Funny Stuff, Performance, Thoughts and Feelings
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Tonight I was backstage signing posters for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids when my friend Joey told me I had to read something. I made some dumb joke in response and he reiterated that I really had to read it. Okay, I will, I said nonchalantly, most of my energy going to making that large J [...]