The Very Pregnant Yoga Lady

Interesting People Post: The Very Pregnant Yoga Lady

I was very impressed when I entered the yoga studio the other day and noticed that our instructor was a very very pregnant lady.

An Ode to the Very Pregnant Yoga Lady

Stretching out your toes
Breath of candle hot and rogue airs pushing
against your stringy hair
but there she is, the belly

Strong and pulsing veins that hold together
All the strains from downward dog position
framing ever so acutely–
for there she is, the belly

Blowing kisses with the leaps of songs
muttered secrets to our joints, pushing forward
You can do it!
So as to like the belly.

Giggling underneath your breath at pot smokers
In the back room, they cannot stretch the way you do
Regardless of tremendous
and rotund stretched belly.

This is like no other class I’ve done, no man
no woman as before could ever take the floor
The way she does with so much
Care, for she is always known to be…

The Very Pregnant Yoga Lady.

* I pretend I am a poet. Sue me.

Christmas Magic in a hermit like world

It’s burning in my bedroom right now and it smells amaze-BALLS! The bank shuts it’s door in 13 minutes, and I’m not going to make it. Glory, glory, glory—it’s another day being a hermit with my computer. I don’t feel bad though. It’s for a job. And when I become a hermit for a job, I don’t feel bad about it!

I have been editing this wonderful dance piece for an artist in New York, and I swear there was a point I almost cried. The dancers are so fluid, it’s like they become water in the middle of my screen. It’s like watching magic come to life. I think that’s why I like dance. You know, let me rephrase that. I know that’s why I like dance, and I know that’s why I like to make short films and stuff. Sometimes, it just feels like magic.

Like, I woke up this morning, smelling like yesterdays sorrows with a horrible ringing in my ear from the chanting of the people in my dreams: You’re a bad friend! Slut! You should never be alone with men!

And all that jazz. Apparently I was a slut in my dream, the funny thing is, I don’t think I did anything. It was like a witch hunt! Except I was kind of innocent, well not entirely, but I said, “I don’t remember a thing I was so freakin’ high!”    Honestly, I have to stop eating late at night and watching SNL before going to bed.   I don’t get high, and I am not a slut!

So yeah, I woke up pretty out of it today. My roommate came home around 1:00PM, and I was still in the attic typing away. She yells, “Dingo!!” And apparently her dog had pushed the sliding door open, gone into the bathroom, and made a nice little fort out of a pile of toilet paper and sheets. I was so out of it, I had not heard him do a single one of these acts. Good grief.

So I walk down, looking like an internet ad for Cal Gear (from head to toe), with disheveled hair, and the first thing I say is, “Wow, sorry…I literally have not come down once until now. Which reminds me, I have to brush my teeth.” That’s when we found out that he had gotten into the bathroom and torn out toilet paper, and eaten trash, and all the wonderful things dogs with bad habits do. Including chew up one of my roommates underwear. Gross.

Well, I am sure I filled you with enough details here, but the truth is I just needed to share that my cinnamon candle is pouring out some awesome Christmas Magic into my once stinky room. I feel like the holidays. The smell is so intoxicatingly beautiful, I went on Amazon to check out some weekly deals. I never shop online….wait….I never shop online.

Okay, now this candle magic is freaking me out.

See you, until next time I decide to vent!

Midnight Post 5

The winds are blowing hard on this small cottage here in Berkeley. Downstairs, the two dogs I live with are enjoying themselves by the fire. Their owners sleep on an inflatable mattress, and I am awake … editing and organizing my thoughts for the next few weeks. It’s November. It’s November…how did that happen?

I realized my body automatically shifted to the holiday spirit when I found myself reaching for the cinnamon burst candle at a store yesterday. I brought it up to my face and said to myself, “It smells like Christmas.”   It’s November! Thanksgiving hasn’t even happened yet and already I’m fantasizing about Christmas.

Lately, I’ve been writing my general thoughts in a journal or jotting down the small details I can remember about my dreams. It’s been a great way to keep track of my thoughts and my imagination, whether they are conscious or unconscious. There’s been a lot going through my mind. There are a lot of changes happening around me too. I am looking for a new place to live in January, and the transition to Berkeley has been…smooth, but at times, overwhelming. Work I thought I’d not find in this community has manifested. Work I actually enjoy and like. I shouldn’t brag, or pat myself on the back too much. It’s still a beginning.

Yet, here I sit. On the bedside wondering if I should read another Cesár Vallejo poem, or if I should just lie down and attempt to fall asleep.

Inspiration can drown out sleep sometimes. Even on nights like these…when I’m so very very tired.