Thursday, September 30, 2010

Enough Rough Stuff


I remember a time

when I wasn't so blind.

Where fear had no space in the house that is mine.

It wasn't just me that was thriving, we were all diving.

With the means to make it all ours without hurry or worry.

We could think and we could do and we did.


Then some large hammer came down

and knocked us around.

I'm still reeling from the beating

to our collective feeding

of our needing to reach goals of

American Dreaming.


I want to see us rise

above this unsupervised demise

To get back to that state

of simple debate

As to what color bed spread

would go best with the head

of hair of a new love affair

blooming with ideas for more.


It's been too long since many have felt free

of financial debris.

We must remember who are

So we can keep reaching far.

Grab hold of what's dear

and steer ourselves clear.

Make way for the purples and pinks of the day.



It's the doubt that this brought

that subsequently taught we should accept

the worst as our new turf.

Enough of this piss.

We're better than this.

Bring forward the life that we ordered.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Attitude Adjustment


As hard as we think our lives are, there is always someone who has it harder. We know this. But every once in a while, we are handed that glorious reminder. And it’s not easy to face someone else's hardship. Perspective is a bitch. If we have a conscience, if we have a beating heart, we can’t help but put ourselves in their position. Imagine what it would be like to be them. One thing I have learned over the years, we’ve heard it said time and again, is that it’s all about attitude. Well, I got a dose of that tonight. And it was a gorgeous dose.

My friends and I noticed her from a mile off. She radiated. Her shocking, short, blond hair and smile was reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe. Lovely to behold. She was witty and fearless. She approached us and was engaging in a delightful way.

A dancer at Jumbo’s Clown Room – the more interesting a place to see girls dance for dollars in LA because, as she put it, when someone from her past frowned upon her stripping, replied “You had better be talking about reupholstery, because you don’t know Jumbo’s”. That’s why we go there. You see, they don’t have to take it all off. The place draws girls with aspirations to be somebody, to pursue their acting/modeling/music careers without having to feel like they are compromising too much. These girls are gorgeous and they have style – some of them real bona fide dancers.

This one, a superstar, introduced herself as Millions. After further investigating, her real name came out. Malaika, pronounced Ma-like-a. We told her the nickname Millions should come after, a stage name worthy of Vegas. Me like a Millions? She cracked us up with her energy. A real doll of a woman with energy and spontaneity that rivaled anyone I have met in my years of big city living, both NYC and LA.

Her show was light, and fun. She was playful and sexy and very entertaining. But mostly it was her dynamic energy with the crowd. Every girl there performed in her shadow. Off stage, she was the kind of likable that her infectious smile granted: you just wanted more of her. You saw that beautiful, kind face giving itself to children, teaching them the ways of the word with a real inner beauty and confidence. She invited us to a party she’s throwing in the near future – the image on the flyer a bit she did as a performance artist that involved a life-size image of her in a long red dress, leg’s splayed. Participants were invited to poke their head thru a hole cut out between her legs for a photo op of Malaika Millions giving birth to you. Hilarious.

I stepped outside with her, upon her request, away from the noise and crowd. She guided me towards a stunning motorcycle – hers. Magenta body, chrome fixtures, light blue/green suede seat. I have never seen such a cute, sexy bike before. Perfect for this one-of-a-kind. She smoked a long, brown cigarette and told me of her struggle to afford the necessary parts to stop it from leaking. Then said she’s had some surprise health issues and times were very challenging for her. What health issues? I asked, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I said. She mentioned a disease that I can’t spell. The fluid that is released into your uterus that holds the baby in place was apparently leaking into her body, scarring neighboring organs and causing all kinds of problems with her immune system. They had to take out her uterus and cervix. It did not fix the problem, her health challenged.

She told me of a party she threw after they performed her hysterectomy. She had a piƱata made in the shape of a uterus and filled it with all kinds of fun things, she said. Condoms and lube and farm animals. I chuckled, in spite of what she was telling me. Celebrating her incredible ability to turn something tragic into something remarkable. She handed out hockey sticks to her friends and encouraged them to “Kill it!” It was her “Happy Birthday to Uterus” party. I could not hide my admiration of such bravery. I hadn’t imagined it possible, as a woman who wants children with all her might. And here it was, from the source. She was and is a true beauty. There was no pity. There was no remorse. Only a desire to live and be in her moment of truth, shining so brightly. This beautiful woman wants to live. And not be sick and suffering.

There is so much of my life at present that I would change on a dime if I had the chance. My current career and financial woes, shared by so many, cause undue stress constantly. The uncertainty is so tough, for all of us. But if we could muster one ounce of this angel’s attitude about what life has in store for us, if we could regain and retain that kind of refreshing perspective on what’s really important in life – our very character – we would all be a lot less afraid. And a lot more willing to share our health. What I mean to say is – she did not seem unhealthy to me. Not for one moment. She was the light and I was the moth tonight. I simply adored her. Because to me, she was worth my time. She taught that valuable lesson. That the human spirit cannot be broken. It can stay on top of real grief and flourish. It can offer delight and whimsy and promise for more of what is good and right with the world. That’s what she offered me tonight. And for that, I am grateful. We need to all be more grateful for what we have, because we have a lot. And we always need reminding. Thank you, Malaika. Wow.