magic in the starlight forms

a little magic in the air makes everyone smile

a little wonder that turns the edges of the world a brilliant and stunning purple

stars drift across the sky

fall time constallations

running through the stream of starlight

eyes open to meet the world

ah what a beautiful day!

he says 

hands clasp upwards as if to touch the newness of evening

song from all the birds in the sky

gives you strength and fortitude through the years

and you become the man who people look to for guidance

a compassionate hand directed by a caring heart

smile today and all days

as you walk the ground with ease and happiness

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I used to sleep

HYPNOS: I used to sleep. I used to sleep and dream. Dream about sheep. Just kidding — I never dream about sheep. Sheep are boring and expected. Still they are cuddly and innocuous little beings. Eating their grass. Baa-ing. Wandering around. Eating more grass. Laying down… what do you think a sheep thinks like? 

Do you think sheep have the same kinds of problems people do only maybe their gradiation is smaller? Like sheep has blue, yellow, purple, but humans got chartreuse, goldenrod, amethyst. How do you think a god sees? It’s… indescribable. You see, to understand it would be touching divinity. It would mean that you’d have to die. Maybe then you could understand. The dead understand a lot of things that the living don’t.

There’s a seed in the heart of the forest down in South America that is supposed to be THE remedy for sleep. It’s been 21 days. Even for a god, I’m starting to feel as though something is off. As if I don’t understand myself anymore. I was looking for ways to get this seed here, but of course, it’s near to impossible. 

First of all, you’d need a guide to even find it. But the guide doesn’t speak Spanish or Portuguese so you gotta find a guide for the guide who knows the language of deep within the forest. Second, the conditions have to be just right for the plant to flower and fruit, or so it’s indicated on these numerous websites that I’ve bookmarked. Apparently it’s a really stinky kind of flower that attracts the worst kind of bugs.

I’m afraid of bites… Well, I suppose that’s obvious though…

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite…”

“Good night!”

Good night. 

“Good night.”

I can feel the world’s people go to bed. And I’m going insane. People tell me “just go to bed,” but I can’t go to bed! I’m racing once I’m in there. Ready to go. Better than coffee. Better than any kind of drug. I’m like thinking a million things a moment. I have all these ideas like toaster with a side container to make eggs. Dog socks. A left-handed violin. Shoes that clean themselves. Jackets that turn into seat cushions. I could go on forever.

I could go on forever.

I could…

go on…

forever…

Forever. 

I need to sleep. The dreams do something with all these thoughts. The dreams know how to sort it out. The dreams point the direction. 

And I stop worrying.

I walk.

I enjoy my day. 

I remember what it’s like to laugh.

And the deepness of an instant.

I see me again. 

When I dream.

I miss dreaming.

what is it like?

More inspiration writing for the play that is a part of the San Francisco Olympians Festival on the god of nonviolent death, Thanatos.

Incidentally, I’ll be interviewed about the play along with Veronica Tjioe by fellow writer, Jovelyn Richards, who is the host of a radio program on KPFA, Jovelyn’s Boutique. This will be on Wednesday from 3:30-4:00 PM PST, so listen in or check out the archived interview later.

T: What is it like to die… what does it feel like for them? I don’t know… I try to make it painless, or at least, if there is pain, maybe I help them come to terms with it before finally releasing it. The process of death is both quicker and slower than you think. 

Slower because, as you know, every moment in linear time is one step closer to it. To me. Quicker because ultimately, it’s simple. You are here and then you are not here.

The actual moment? I don’t know if it’s painful. I would imagine it is because everything in life lives on a pain scale. But maybe I’m wrong about that, maybe the feeling of death is the opposite of the feeling of life. Maybe what I do is painless.

How would I know that I had died and that I wasn’t just dreaming? See, that is where Sleep and Death — the fact that we’re twins — comes into play. It fools people. It’s calling for one when you mean the other. When you need the other. 

Now that I have started to dream… Vivid dreams as true as day. I wonder what it would be like to live there instead of here. I wonder if my experience is tempered and adulterated by the feeling of waking. Disorienting light. Words that make no sense. Symbols. Birds flying backwards make no sense, but in the dream world it’s just another thing to notice or ignore.

It makes me appreciate the reality we call, “life” much more. Little things, like the way the sun creates a painting that no artistic genius would every be able to put together — every day. The way that water feels. The color of people’s eyes. The sound of footsteps. Wind. Did you know each moment contains so much to be in awe of?

I think some of them miss that.

If anything feels painful, it’s that realization. I could imagine that it’s heartbreaking, which is why all these souls have so much trouble remembering who they are. Only the truly strong would be able to hold even a little of that. It’s no judgement — the weight of experience is just too much after a while. 

And so…


how the dreams work

i believe this is another monologue… maybe it will find its way into a current project or at least be inspiration there of.
The dreams never happen when you want them to. And it’s too bad cuz they’re so good. Smooth dreams. Dreams with epic soundtracks and a sense of flow. A sense of trajectory. A sense of wonder. Dreams that make you think they are real. They can be. At least, they point to things. When you are in them, they unfold at this pace that’s just like… it’s stunning. But outside of them, they don’t make any sense. And people won’t believe. They will think you’re crazy. So, don’t be like me. Don’t tell anyone your dreams…

Sometimes I try to remember the common threads that got me to here. Old man. Red dress. Crow flying. A train.

A train edging into the night feels like heading into oblivion. Feels like heading into the heart of a black hole. Into the unknown with no way out. Into the deepness of something that will consume you. It will. 

Sometimes I want to be taken. The dream brings me in. I don’t want to be out. I see things clearer in there than any kind of picture. It’s only on the outside that it looks warped, convoluted, makes no sense. 

I’m getting better at learning its language. Sometimes I ask. Sometimes I ask for help and the dream answers. Finds a way to keep pointing to me where I need to go. 

People say, “okay, dream of this and it will happen.” But it doesn’t work that way. The dreams know where you need to go. The best you can do is ride them fully. Go with them until you’re at the place you need to be. You see what you need to see. Sometimes what you need to face. And it makes you stronger because you stand there watching. Always watching. Waiting to act. Aborbing. Taking it all in. Every detail. Every moment is stockpiled if it is felt. You gotta be patient. “Wait for it,” is an understatement. But it’s okay by me, because once I’m into something, I can stay on it a very long time. My endurance surpasses most and it keeps developing. Keeps getting stronger. 

And so when you wake up, you only have to move through the moments again. Replay it by walking through your steps.

Did you know the way we experience time is not real? Like it’s real, but it isn’t at the same time. We go from here to there. A to B. Progression. Succession. One thing after anothet, right? But we don’t really do that. Well, we do, but in our minds we remember the past, jump to the future, jump around and back to the present. All at the same time that we’re just here. Just here living life and experiencing its various complexities — such as time for one. We repeat again and again. Always new, never new. Never old because each moment it new. It’s circuitous. Spiraling. It’s not the shape you think it is. 

That’s my secret by the way. That’s why I’m never bored – only tired. And there is a difference. Boredom is not being entertained by whatever you’re experiencing. Being tired or exhaustion is when you still try to be actively engaged but you physically, psychologically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually you are drained. You have less than you’re working with when you’re 100%. And that’s how I see the moment and why I can wait if I need to, because what I see when I am quiet with myself is a whole variety of things others don’t.

I see the future. And I see beauty. 

the sea of flowers that covered the land

One day as she was walking, bright vibrant spots of color captured her attention. Looking around it was as though she was in a sea filled with bits of a broken rainbow. She realized they were hundreds of flower petals of all shapes and sizes. Each with their delicate silky edges drifting past her feet as she kept walking. She knelt down to see them closer, holding one in her hand and studying how smooth its edges were.

where did all the flowers come from?

She tried to see how far they spread across the land, but it was as if she had stepped into another world that somehow changed the rules. Like blankets of flower petals were just as natural as happening upon a tree. And if there was no reason she could find for this strange occurance, then she figured she would enjoy it as much as she could.

i’ll do what i’ve always wanted to do…

And with outstretched hands she fell back into the beautiful petals – all soft, light as air, delicate as they covered her skin. She sank back breathing in their perfumed essence. She closed her eyes and dreamed deeply, falling into a heavier – heavier still – sleep.

i remember tonight

ah yes 

i remember tonight

i remember it well

tonight was the night that a group of stars got together

they sparkled and shined in the night sky

they twirled and danced

they glimmered and smiled

and this beautiful night

it was a beginning that was larger than any would ever know

and it was filled with more love 

and more hope 

than the whole night sky thought possible

ah yes i remember tonight

The Real World – Theater Edition: A Couple Words

Barbara Jwanouskos, speaking up. So, it’s been a while since I’ve written more of an editorial for San Francisco Theater Pub instead of conducting an interview with a local theater maker, but I thought I’d write down a couple words this week because I’ve been thinking. I’ve been thinking about how our artistic systems are […]

https://sftheaterpub.wordpress.com/2016/08/19/the-real-world-theater-edition-a-couple-words/

little change of pace

little change of pace. i was talking with a friend today and wanting to write more plays/scenes. so here you go… 🙂


It’s a room that is dim and amber. It’s warm and hidden away though in the center of things. It’s a room that has cozy chairs and there’s one window with it’s blinds semi-opened to the outside world. It’s far away from where they sit.

In the distance, you hear the traffic. You hear the commotion of people moving through the streets below. You hear the flutter of pigeons as they fly to perch. And the coo as they sit, listening on the other side of the walls.

1: no no

but you were like really afraid

like you wouldn’t even look up

2: i don’t know

1: it was weird

2: well what did you want me to do, i-

1: look up!

2: pssh whatever

you don’t get it

1: okay yea maybe

you always say that

by the way

2: yea but like what you supposed to do with stupid things that come up that make no sense? it’s not like i’m afraid of you now/ and that’s what’s important

1: that’s what’s important

2: yea exactly

see that’s what’s i’m saying

like

you want to dwell in the past and act like “oh this is who you are so this is all /you’ll ever be, but i-”

1:i didn’t say that

2: no, okay

yes, i said that

but you see what i’m saying right?

like

1: what?

2: it’s just not all i am

that’s all

that’s my only point 

1: well, yea, i mean

i know that

that to me is like a given

2: okay…

1: look, it’s so much a given i never think about it

2: i do

1: i know you do

2: pssh… okay fine

1: what?

2: well you make it seem like it’s this goal to get to/

1: isn’t it?

2: like i should be aspiring to get to here

1: yeah!

2: okay…

1: well, i mean what’s wrong with that?

let me just ask you –

what’s wrong with that?

2: okay… i get it

look i get it

seriously
she smiles.


1: you’re a lot better now

seriously

2: thanks…

1: i mean it

i kinda like you a lot more now

2: thanks? 

1: no you know!

c’mon

you’re just like

2: like what?

1: you’re cool

you’re just cool

you’re a cool girl

2: thank you

finally

took you forever to say that

1: oh come on you don’t need me to say that

2: people do

they need some…

glitter sometimes

1: glitter?!

2: you know

shiny

something you can be dazzled by for a while

something you can hold on to

1: what kinda glitter are you talking about?

2: oh come on you know what i mean now you’re toying with me

now you’re just toying with me

he laughs.


1: okay

you’re right

you got me

what can i say?

you got me
from another room, a soft song plays. it’s distant and nostalgic, but something about it, while melancholic, brightens the air.

they listen for a while and then look at each other smiling “did you hear that?”– they both noticed something change and are happy that they both caught it.

all at once

She lied back onto a great grey speckled boulder arching her back against it closing her eyes to the sun. Its surface was warm, smooth and comforting, grounding her back into the present. Being against this great rock, it was as if she could hear inside the rock to its soul. Like a vibrating whisper, she could feel its energy. Deep within the rock at the innermost part and back through to the surface, she listened. What was it telling her? She put her hands on the giant rock trying to get something from it.

All around – all at the same time – from every direction, she heard the sounds of the forest competing for her attention. Birds calling, cooing. Rustling in the trees from small creatures. In the bushes, a predator lurking waiting to strike. The sounds of wind and trees extending up to the sky. Of insects buzzing. Everything singing all at once. Including the giant rock. In fact, the rock seemed to joyously laugh at the symphony of the forest. Something about felt a bit overwhelming to the girl – a huge release followed. She caught herself from crying and instead only whinced at the lump in her throat. Gone, as quickly as the feeling emerged. And then, lying back she stretched out her hands on the great boulder and watched clouds roll across the windows the branches made. Watching the sky, she settled into peace.

the five questions 

To get back to the stream from the mountains and through the forest. Back nearby the old small house where incense sometimes drifted from the windows. Back to the place where she would float on top of the water. Where she would skip stones across the flat surfaces of side pools of water that collected off the main path.

To get back, she needed to walk a very long time. It took days. As she kept to the path burned into her memory. Yes, this tree and that rock and that scraggly bush. As she kept walking, she couldn’t be sure, but it was the feeling as though someone was following her. Yet, every time she looked back, there was nothing. Just air. Sometimes wind blew through the trees during those moments as if to laugh at her vigilance. But there was nothing there. And so, she continued.

Climbing over large boulders. Dodging low-hanging branches from fallen trees still growing. Dust piling up under her fingernails, her feet. And sometimes it was simply to hot to be in areas with direct sun. She found shelter under jutting rocks, bushes and waited until the ground didn’t burn her feet any longer. During these times, thd coolness of the rock and the warmth of the air from the sun made her sleepy. She often nodded off in these moments.

Walking steadily, she listened attentively for the sound she madeas she moved. She paid so much attention to it that it was hard to distinguish what was outside those steps. Everything wrapped itself together, blending into a cacophony of little sounds. In the moments where she heard a twig behind her snap, she had to ask herself five times is this truly outside of me? before turning to meet nothing. Anticipation building so that every turn seemed to be the one where she would catch it. 

She felt sure of it. So sure that she let the feeling creep up closer and closer. Raw and palpable like she could feel its breath or the warmth of skin. She lowered her eyes during these times and walked slowly. Her breath was slow. Slower still. Deeper. And instead of everything tightening to brace herself against the interaction. She let go further and further. Each release was dizzying and though her heart sometimes raced, she slowed. Occassionally to a halt. Then the five questions and she turned.

Again, nothing. But somehow that felt like a victory in it of itself.