quick update

i forgot how much i love to be in the passenger seat of an indian taxi or any vehicle in india with an indian driver. thrilling.
being gluten free has gotten old really fast what with all the naan and samosas and various biscuits and momos (tibetan dumplings) at my finger tips.
catching a bug in india at 13,000 feet that has me running to the bathroom for 24 hours and violently wretching into the toilet at 4 in the morning and so uncomfortable that i can't lay down is one of the worst feelings in the world-
and totally worth the view and the noises and the himalayan air.
teaching yoga scares the shit out of me- i feel unworthy of it.
waking up and going to sleep with the sun feels really healthy (surprise!).

this has been such a whirlwind and feels a bit like a dream.
i am taking notes
and photos
and am excited to share.
much love.    

for all the times you tucked me in

i remember when you would crawl into the bottom bunk with me some nights
and you would let me talk to you about
my ten year old woes
and how i couldn't say "i love you" enough
and how "i love you" didn't actually seem enough
and how recently i still wanted to crawl into your lap
more than anything.
and how sometimes when erin crawls into mine
it feels similar and safe
the way it did then.

so thank you for winding up all the music boxes
and letting me play hookey
thank you for letting me sleep in your bed when i was sick
and all the ice cream sundaes.
thank you for the elton john evenings
and sundays where we listened to 'breakfast at tiffany's' on repeat and ate dinner together.
thank you for all the musical instruments that i played to no avail
and always just letting me sing.

if i was there right now
i promise i would sing you a lullaby
in hopes it would be better than buzzing lights
and pain in your knee.

and 'i love you' still doesn't feel like enough.
so thank you for teaching me how to smile.

feel better mama.

your watch brought me comfort this week.
when i was lucky enough to lay my head under the sound of the night hawks
and weary tired blood-shot-from-crying-eyes could finally gaze up through the lace of the ponderosa branches.
i could hear it on my wrist.
tick tick tick.
and remembered that there is life outside of this.
there is comfort other than my solitude in the darkness and the duff
comfort of arms and legs intertwined and smiling lips
and kissing lips.
and laughter.
oh right.

thank you for letting me borrow your watch.
it helped me keep track of myself.

so i pull out the opened aging bottle of port in my closet
i uncork it
and i don't bother getting a glass
and the familiar thought swells up in me again
'its time to go'
this oh-so-familiar feeling-sorry-for-myself-side says
nothing ever goes as planned
smiles fade
laughter stops
lets get outta dodge.

and another-less-familiar-side says
it's okay to slow down
and curiosity can go a long way.

not to mention there is always music playing in the background.

bob dylan sings me to sleep tonight
harmonica and all.

and i think about those words:

"strong women will encourage and awaken the potential
inside of you" he said
"make you wanna be a better man-
an intimidating prospect."

and so i giggle as i crawl into my bed and wait.

is that what is happening here?


my dog is the only male i have to get mad at these days.
and masturbation is a proud and honest fool.

the whiskey compilations III

the sun hasn't gone down yet
and the ice is already clinking in my glass
because i like to sit in my own shit
and self medicate
and feel sorry for myself
and i am so god damn tired of all the alone time
a little company would be nice
my bed is so damn cold at night.

oh whoops.
i am sorry.
did i leave a mark on your heart?
mustabeen the whiskey talking again.

here, let me unzip my jacket.
is that where my heart is?

you got a smile that can leave a mark too.

i'll just wait
here.

and i am sorry that my bed is so small.