Metamorphosis vs. Stagnation

Woman is a place. Just read Angier's Woman: An Intimate Geography, a wonderful book, which did much a few years ago for my envisioning of female sexuality and selfhood.

People are places. Therefore home is likely to be a person. Like you or I, or the combination thereof.

Groundedness is far more based on self-understanding and comfort than latitude and longitude.

People morph more quickly than places, more like frogs or butterflies, but like places in that we keep our foundations. The groundwork, all those geological layers unavoidable - certain volcanoes and tsunamis uncontrollable.

Is that not modern life? We are all either constantly in transition to becoming something else, or we are stuck - and then yes, there is a category of people that seems pretty content with its status quo.

The pressure to morph, the need to morph, the flapping of wings against the gauze, and then flight?

Death, rebirth, the rising of Frankenstein - rejuvenation, artificial rebirth, identity creation/recreation, we are our own creators?

Identity order and disorder: construct a city in your mind, construct yourself, deconstruct/reconstruct yourself, clean up the mess, the facades, the fake buildings (like in one of those old western flicks) - your self should not be a movie set, your city should be thriving full of warmth, nourishment, people, movement. I want people to empower themselves, to take control over the rotting buildings, to spring fresh life from the neglected earth.

"There's a chair in my head/On which I used to sit/Took a pencil and I wrote the following on it"
-K's Choice

Sprung

Twilit, happy, silly, floaty.
The season of love and baby-making makes me smile. New York smelled like the country yesterday. Overwhelmed by spring-ness I suppose.
I like where I am right now. I like who I am right now.
I've been meeting so many people lately. I've gone out a lot, gone on a few so-called dates, but mostly enjoyed myself with good people. I don't think I want to tie myself down right now, monogamy can wait, sorry suitors. Life's too good for haste at the moment. ;) (I think.)
Yay for the rebirth of earth. I always liked Ceres, though the mystery and power of Artemis inspires as well. I'm pulling my arrow taut this spring and aiming at the moon.
(Howls, smiles, goes back to work.)

Haunted hearts and pithy shorts

Walking home last night, my head abuzz with the stars of Tribeca, (the series of shorts, "Cold Feet" was pretty swell,) the hollywood and international actors/filmmakers were exactly in life as you see them on screen - no surprises, but oh the rapture of the flesh - my own life became cinematic for a minute.
- - -
I came upon a box of love chocolates from my past, near my front steps. They were staring up at me from the sidewalk, the plastic torn open by a bum, who-knows-what chocolaty creep crawlies spilling out. He must have rummaged through the garbage bins in front of my apartment building, upended the bags, discovered the lusty chocolates, left the torn box body like a sad little carcass for me to find.

I ended up talking to a hollow voice mail system for a moment, a loved voice explaining his unavailability to the world. For the best? Don't know. I proceeded to call an old friend, to bitch and screech and rejoice into the night. Until I passed out, of course.

Good morning.