Ali Recipe

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, September 28, 2010 2 comments
I'd like for them to say he took a few cups of love, he took 1 tablespoon of patience, 1 teaspoon of generosity, 1 pint of kindness, he took 1 quart of laughter, 1 pinch of concern, and then, he mixed willingness with happiness, he added lots of faith, and he stirred it up well, then he spread it up over a span of a lifetime, and he served it to each and every deserving person he met.


by trulymadlydeeply On Monday, September 27, 2010 1 comments
Today is my birthday. Hold the applause, please, please. Thank you, yes, I know, thank you.

On these kinda full-circle days, I think it's nice to reflect on what you've learned up til now. Here are some things I've sort-of learned, or more or less just have on my mind today.............

My brother in law needed to leave work early the other day to pick up a friend from the airport. He told them that he was getting acupuncture in Yonkers. "Yonkers?", they asked, seated in the FiDi, "Isn't that a bit far to go for acupuncture?" "Ah yea, but it's a special procedure. You see, they insert the needles into the tip of your penis." No further questions.

Outrageous lies are often more believable than the boring, inconvenient truth. Tell them when you'll get a laugh, it doesn't hurt anyone, and you can afford it.
These are the kind of people I am grateful for in my life. If only for the outrageous form of inspiration. But, really, for so much more...

When it comes to making yourself happy, do the do (dew).

Get over yourself and get into yourself

"An idea without a price tag has no meaning"

Knowing what you want, priceless. Getting it, will cost you (tax you).

Reinventing the wheel. Discuss.

It's gray and raining. And it's quite perfect. Silencing. To me it sounds like soft applause for my quiet entry into this world. Apparently I wasn't crying out of the womb. Ha. Typical. Quiet at first and then I get cozy.........

Time and time again it proves itself to me:  We only regret those things we did not do. And the more seconds you spend on that equals more regret. Let it go and paint that shit gold. Ah I know, it's hard, it's hard. It's ok, one day you'll be dead. See? Isn't that better?...

This one time, I was hysterically crying, right. And in the middle of it, I paused and said, "Damn this feels amazing."

Late for a conf. call. PER USUAL.
Ah, good, waiting for others to join....

Failing to plan... In some cases, could go REALLY well, actually. But you have to be 100% committed. Either way you go, go into it all the way. Because if you start scrambling 1/2-ass planning in the middle of the game, you're blocking the waves of spontaneity which will otherwise carry you through marvelously.

If you have a gut, go with it. Otherwise, go to the gym and get some endorphins going which will support the gut you're not going with while also getting you in tip top shape.

Other important birthdays:
I mean, what an honor.

 (Note the sizurp)

"Over it"

I'm sorry, what?

It's a little known fact but, there was, in actuality, a cupcake to where his finger is pointing. 
The artist failed to render the cupcake because he was just using it to garner the reaction, 
"Are you going to eat that?", a question commonly asked by those born on this date.

So there you have it, ladies and gents.
Off to werk...

Much love,

P/S Can someone please explain the 'fusion'? Lost in translation.

My brain just exploded

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, September 24, 2010 0 comments

tumbling after

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, September 24, 2010 0 comments


Open, Letter

by trulymadlydeeply On Monday, September 20, 2010 2 comments
Dear _______ (blank),

I thought about writing you the whole way home tonight. It started somewhere around that really expansive part of the FDR where the road takes a big curve to the left and the river hugs in to the right, and you've got an open view of the Empire State (all white now) and the Chrysler and that funny building with an isosceles triangle for a hat. That part always gets me excited about the city. Just that part. Flying driving and boom, beautiful skyline, you can feel the cars respond with the woosh in the road. Somewhere around the bridge I got in the mood to write again, like I did back when. Then you're ahead of yourself, and all these ideas come tumbling out in perfect succession and you're stepping harder on the pedal to slow the thoughts down before you're before a place to jot, jet. Then someone threw their cigarette out their window and it freaked me out, like always. I always picture some freak accident of physics happening where their loose cigarette, still lit, bounces into my tailpipe and sparks, ignites up in there somewhere, exploding the whole car and me along with it. One little spark and boom, MacGruber, I'd be gone and then this letter couldn't come out. That's what I worry about. Dying and not being able to write this letter. Not dying and leaving behind friends and family and a life not yet lived out. No. Just dying and not getting home tonight to let this out because those friends and family aren't around (I tried. Called two of them, no dice.) and when you start thinking, "I wouldn't mind someone to just talk to and tell all this random stuff to and have them listen and then I'll listen back" you start to think you really do need that, not just want it, but need it. So you call. Or start a narrative to no one in particular, to blank.
It's not like I can't be alone. I love being alone. But lately I feel like all we do is work. Work, work, work and relax at home in our own worlds before we pass out for a few to get up and go again. And that's fine, and maybe I'm just having a bout of cryptomnesia (which I analyzed in the car) where I internalized a horoscope I read today which told me rekindling friendships and spending time with friends would be something I might yearn for today, and then spit it back out thinking it was coming from my own original source. I don't know. Maybe. Regardless, we used to all get together for some QT without our phones and laptops open and heads in 3 worlds at once. We all used to get together and BE together. In a room, with some tunes and some wine or food or tea or whatever and really spend time together. Maybe play some cards. Or get into fights where packets of oatmeal would be thrown really hard until they burst. Ha. And the simplicity of each others company was enough, we didn't need added cushioning of extra media to make time around others comfortable. When did that happen? How did that happen? Us getting so dependent on our second identities in the matrix that it makes interactions face to face, hm, I don't know, strained. Strange. Eh, maybe it's just my imagination.

It's like I'm stoned or something, tonight. I used to be, often, when the words would align right up in a stream and flow out sans inhibitions. Just being honest. But I havn't been since before that time between May and June when things got rearranged, some kind of automatic psychotherapy to clean that little part up. But I still dream about it, let me tell ya, and a nervous dreaming. How am I gonna get neurotic in my sleep? I used to never care this much about not doing something. But the funny part is that in waking life, there's nothing to it, I can take it or leave it and I just leave it.
That and nervous, worse-possible-outcome dreaming about being late to a class and getting in trouble. I am chronically late. It's terrible. My sense of time is a little warped. I'm workin on ittttt. What's the saying? "#IT'S A PROCESS"?
I've rarely had recurring dreams but I figure I'm really dealing with some sh*t inside there for these things to continually be brought up. Dark stuff. Joints and tardiness. Jeez.

It's a trip to get on the other end of something you love. Where you break it down into its parts to be able to put it back together in order to understand it fully, so you can pass it on to others with the how, why and where behind the instruction. Honestly, it can take the fun out of it, being on this other end. Receiving the transmission feels great and you just turn in, tune in and take it. Giving it can be so exhausting. Because you're also trying to take it in, as the giver and as the receiver, like, what are they feeling? Is this flowing? There must be some seamless level where giver and receiver are no longer separate. I'll let you know when I get there. I'm still digging my heels into confidence and projecting my voice with authority, that way responses are firmer and I won't think they hate me or don't trust me when I'm giving them instructions on how to move. It's weird, I know. Wish I could take my own class...

I mentioned the power of auto suggestion tonight. Had them all in a standing balance. Wobbling. "Bring strength into your standing leg with your suggestion of stability." I think that convoluted advice just distracted some people and they lost their balance. Ha. Shit. One. Day. At. A. Time.

But really. Auto-suggestion. Get familiar. I'm not going to 'testify!' but I'll say, it's magical.

And we could all use a little magic in our lives.

Signing off with so much more I had but got left on the road somewhere.



by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, September 17, 2010 0 comments

"All music is what awakes within us
when we are reminded by the instruments;
It is not the violins or the clarinets -
It is not the beating of the drums -
Nor the score of the baritone singing
his sweet romanza; not that of the men's chorus,
Nor that of the women's chorus -
It is nearer and farther than they.-"
- Eunice Waymon -

Check It

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, September 17, 2010 0 comments
Sun-kissed city day, strolling around the dense comfort of a Western Village's townhouse-scape, 
16 bars away from another world of always-flowing traffic
staying within the lines of boutiques, cafes, narrow roads
lush trees still line the streets, their leaves holding on for just a little while longer,
while this song colors the air, 
walking, walking, walking, walking

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, September 17, 2010 0 comments
Every day counts


by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, September 16, 2010 0 comments
Let's not beat around the fucking bush here.
These sites have taken to dishing out some pretty helpful tidbits, take a gander:

I'm wondering if anyone else has taken to dispensing of advice in this abrasive albeit, refreshingly straight forward, manner?

Here are some of my own contributions to this wave of fuckery...

"Fucking floss and brush your teeth everyday"
"Stop stuffing your fucking face"

"Turn the fucking light off if no one's in the room"
"Fucking walk a few blocks" 

"They don't fucking like you. Move on"
"Fucking listen"
"Make them fucking smile" 

"Good fucking luck"
"Keep it fucking wet"
"Make it fucking fresh"

"Hire fucking immigrants"

"Don't fuck"
"Never, ever, use a fucking leash"

"Stop trying so fucking hard"

Hmm I quite like this, feeling very effective when the F word is implied...

"Just fucking breathe"
"Celebrate your fucking life"

"Mind your own fucking business"
"Fucking have their back"

"Fucking love your parents"
"Fucking make up already"
"Fucking call your mother "

"Toss the fucking Fodors"
"Have a fucking place to stay"

"Keep it fucking classy"
"Fucking top-shelf first"

"Stop leaving the fucking gate unlocked"

"Cut up your fucking credit cards"
"Save your fucking money"
"Stop buying fucking bedazzled pet accessories"

"Stop fucking checking your Facebook" or, alternately "Get on Facebook and fucking network"
"Do something you fucking love"

"Love with all your fucking heart"

"all is fair in Love, and nothing more"

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, September 07, 2010 0 comments
stepping forward each letter is a stone on the road of words defining the journey to the other side
Devanāgarī, city of gods, they inhabit our words, inspiration to spill from the tongues of many
equally we've all abused, so easy to speak with lashes, gossip, trashing, boasting, bashing
sticks and stones may break our bones but words, oh they penetrate far more deeply
take care, a vow to take the rap, wrap away from war with words
meaning escalates so steeply
up there, paired with air melody moving invisibly to keep the breath alive
why do you think the i-
Pods, head-phones call us all back to ourselves
more and more
accessing love
and nothing more


by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, September 02, 2010 0 comments

The last few years, I've just begun to really discover recording artists that have been around for ages, the kind you should be slightly embarrassed not to know already. I think Aziz Ansari touched on this naivete once, joking about his 18 year old cousin who "just discovered music". 

Some of us grow up in a house full of records where music passed through the air along with a cooking dinner. Genres limited, genres expansive... Others, not so much, stuck to the radio hits and classmate influence.

And then we grow up and the power is ours and you sort of find the giant X where a treasure trove of richness rests...

I've always got my ears open, grateful for hints and nudges down the line of musicians, reaching further and further back through the linage of influence.

And the other day along came one of the most beautiful songs (artists) I've heard of late... So glad to have been open at the right moment...

And those amazing words...

If I ventured in the slipstream Between the viaducts of your dream
Where immobile steel rims crack And the ditch in the back roads stop
Could you find me? Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down In silence easy
To be born again To be born again
From the far side of the ocean If I put the wheels in motion
And I stand with my arms behind me And Im pushin on the door
Could you find me? Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down In silence easy
To be born again To be born again
There you go Standin with the look of avarice
Talkin to huddie ledbetter Showin pictures on the wall
Whisperin in the hall And pointin a finger at me
There you go, there you go Standin in the sun darlin
With your arms behind you And your eyes before
There you go Takin good care of your boy
Seein that hes got clean clothes Puttin on his little red shoes
I see you know hes got clean clothes A-puttin on his little red shoes
A-pointin a finger at me And here I am
Standing in your sad arrest Trying to do my very best
Lookin straight at you Comin through, darlin
Yeah, yeah, yeah If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop Could you find me
Would you kiss-a my eyes Lay me down In silence easy
To be born again To be born again
To be born again In another world
In another world In another time
Got a home on high
Aint nothing but a stranger in this world
Im nothing but a stranger in this world
I got a home on high
In another land So far away So far away
Way up in the heaven Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven Way up in the heaven
In another time In another place
In another time In another place
Way up in the heaven Way up in the heaven
We are goin up to heaven We are goin to heaven
In another time In another place
In another time In another place
In another face

Three is Enough

by trulymadlydeeply On Wednesday, September 01, 2010 0 comments
My dear friend Gabbie has been working on an art blog, Three is Enough.

Purist, reductionist, art history buff

I love the variety of works she features, spanning styles, centuries;
boiling it all down to three succinct adjectives (usually).

Great source for hand-picked pieces and K-I-S-S statements.

And don't even get me started on the 3...

Straight Up and Down On the Reals

by trulymadlydeeply On Wednesday, September 01, 2010 0 comments
This lady always be tellin' it like it is!

"Are you still waiting for the world to tell you that it’s ok to be alive? It’s ok to be who you are? You know you’ll be waiting a while if you need these verifications from the outside world. When you will learn and know that who you are right now is perfect? You must love who you are before you can move onto shifting into a new person."

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Je suis une fille qui sais que
d'aimer trop sauve la vie. Je suis, je serai toujours, entraine d'etre sauvé pendant cette vie. Pourtant, la balance se cherche en tous que je touche. Mais pour l'amour, y aura jamais moins que tous. C'est ça, blank blank fullness


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