The Girl Who Came Undone

She didn’t see it happening. It just hit like a tidal wave sweeping her mind, body, and soul  into the ocean of doubt. Renown for being the one most firmly planted in capability, the one you could rely on, she finally burst. One morning around 4a just after a short sleep; she slipped away into madness.

She doesn’t know her name anymore. After a cathartic sobbing, watching her emotions wash away in the tide; she switched off. She is numb. A long swim in the cold ocean can do that to you. You just stop struggling, cease trying to keep up and allow mother earth to swallow you whole. Then the silence. Sound stops. You are one with yourself, finally at peace.

The plan was for this to be the month of completion: a new short film, 2 album projects, another cycle around the sun – this one landing squarely on 55-years-of-life.  Born on 11/22, she always self-revered in the double digit years running around in her mind like Rocky Balboa reaching the top of the steps, arms stretched high in triumph. A more powerful water tiger energy would ensue and fill her days of November with a sense of accomplishment in those years.

The exception: 2017. The problem arose and struck like a nail not being driven through cement when she discovered that nothing was getting done completely. Each day would drip into the next as the work piled on. She felt like the inbox never got less, but rather increased exponentially, arrhythmically beating her into submission to work longer hours, more days. They all became one with only a tiny percentage of relief in 5-6 hours of sleep and a brisk walk now and again. She stood before her students putting on a show; another round of the tears of a clown and there she was doing her best to inspire, enlighten, and finally if all else failed cajole the lackluster ones with extra points here and there just to get them across the finish line to a passing grade. She took great liberty every semester to come up with something new and engaging for each class. But the complication grew from a small growth found on an arm to a huge internal capture of every fiber of her being. She lashed out at friends, colleagues, family. She writhed in mental anguish after her diatribes, steeped in a dark tea of sorrow and regret. Then, the snap.

Poof. Gone.


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Baron Von Uh-Oh

Contemplative. The state that has captured my being this summer wrapping me in a reflective and pensive mindset. Though I walk among the trees in a park on a magnificent, early morning San Francisco day with the sun rising up among the trees and the air a perfect 57-degrees, I can’t help but feel a sense of foreboding that will not go away. I look up at birds flying in a deep blue sky with the ocean 25 blocks away. As I gaze at the beauty of the earth around me, the cerebration in the characters Dom Cobb and Arthur in Chris Nolan’s film, Inception, extract my subconscious; captivating my mind by asking me: “Dana, would you be surprised if suddenly all of this simply turned upside-down and inside-out?”

What the hell? Why can’t I merely enjoy a peaceful jog/walk on a serene morning anymore? Is this fallback from watching the 3rd and 4th episode of Hulu’s “A Handmaid’s Tale” last night? Is it from my from my quotidian contact with the news media as told by The Financial Times, The Guardian, New York Times, and Washington Post? Is it the constant hate-spewed-commentary from the destroyer-in-chief and his thugs?

I shake my head abruptly like an etch-a-sketch in an attempt to erase these thoughts. I enter the soul of the bird chirping above me on a utility wire. Ah, to be free from the exhaustion of a human cerebrum and bipedal locomotion with an ability float and fly. I remember a distinct flying dream a few nights back. It was the first in 40 years! In my youth, I would fly in my sleep from time to time and it was such an extraordinary experience to feel so free. In the dream the other night, I was running one minute and then gliding in air as I continued to run with my legs pumping and then I went higher and higher. I was frightened at one point when I found myself floating above the tree line wondering how I was going to return to earth. My angst-ridden heart beat rapidly as I attempted to slow my speed to no avail. I thought, “What am I going to do now? How do I land without breaking my bones?”

I must have woken up at that point or perhaps my hypothalamus shifted gears into another dream because the experience ended fine. I awoke with the exhilarating memory of having flown and the location where I was running in the air. It made me smile as I had not had such a dream in decades.

Why can’t I continue to be the happy-go-lucky Dana I’ve been my entire life? Why have I become the Baron Von Uh-Oh to myself? I am grateful and thankful for my life as it is, but in these past many months, I have ingested the fear of everything changing in the spur of the moment as if it will all suddenly fold into a vortex. It’s an odd disruption that perhaps will only heal when this nation, currently overrun by a small group of loud haters and greedy monsters, finds its way back to the values of progress that keep us alive by working FOR clean air and water, protecting the earth and all her species, embracing the notion that all humans belong here no matter their culture, human race, nor religion. Respect. Peace.

I feel this:  Inception


But, I want this feeling back:

(2 images above borrowed from Rust En Geluk–translation: Rest & Happiness)

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Morally Bankrupt, Deeply Wounded

Particularly, this Independence Day, July 4, 2017, offers not much to celebrate about America.

If this short list of offenses over the past 2 days isn’t enough to make you feel the vibe of the Red, White, and Blue celebration day; look at one of our warships sailing 12 nautical miles into South China Sea near a disputed island in a seemingly antagonistic poke at Xi Jinping. (The Guardian, July 2, 2017)

We are veering closer to world war enflamed with a civil war here at home with this pugnacious bully ruining our reputation and bolstering the lunacy of the far right. The U.S. is morally bankrupt. He holds a 57% of American disapproval of his job performance which is more people than voted in the last election. Those of us who took the time to vote and rejected Trump as a candidate are deeply wounded. There seems to be no end in sight as the Republicans work in secret to secure their coup of our government to rollback regulation (financial, environmental, health, et al) to please their corporate sponsors.

Sorry to be so unhappy July 4th to all. There is nothing to celebrate at this time.

Dried up flag

USA Prison Population

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There’s a line on my face where a smile once curved.

Heartbreak shows itself in many forms. When you have lived a full life, you know the feeling when it hits you. It’s sudden. You can be completely at peace and content in one moment and then: WHAM! It strikes like a bolt of lighting in the minute you realize that something is not right, askew, dysfunctional. Your heart starts to pound faster and harder; beads of sweat can be felt on your face and scalp; your five million hair follicles all over your body rise up to attention like the soldiers of the Korean People’s Army marching for their leader. Extreme anger ensnared with desolation overcomes your entire being. A convulsive reflex sends a bit of the meal you just ate to the top of your mouth. Trembling fingers can’t quite hold the pen to the paper as you consider a response.

How many of us have walked into a room where you find the person you are in a committed relationship with caught in a moment of orgasmic rapture with another human who is not you. This betrayal is one form of heartbreak.

How many of us have felt the loss of a loved one passing? That Rock of Gibraltar in your life who seemed to calm the waters, make the sun shine, and steady the ship just disappears. This lonely emotional desertion is another form of heartbreak.

How many of us have held someone in such high regard with the kind of respect that is bestowed upon people who do good deeds only to find one day that they are not the person whom you thought they were. They do something so profoundly common that negates the good will that you thought pervaded their entire being. They perform an action that is completely antithetical to the personal motto they showcase to others. This disappointment is another form of heartbreak.

noun: disappointment
  • the feeling of sadness or displeasure caused by the nonfulfillment of one’s hopes or expectations.
  • a person, event, or thing that causes disappointment.
I’ve had too many of these throughout my life and it’s not like I have huge and unclear expectations of others. But I have been a helping type of individual since I was a little girl; a giver who asks not much in return because the positivity one feels inside from giving is worth everything. What often happens is an individual or a group takes advantage of that and you find yourself in the difficult position of needing to withdraw. Then sadness seeps in.

Here is a fascinating article on the science behind heartbreak.


Fall apart_William C Hannan

I will find a way to curve that straight line again. no smile emoti


Be not simply good; be good for something.

— Henry David Thoreau


The great use of life is to spend it for something that outlasts it.

— William James


In a gentle way, you can shake the world.

— Mahatma Gandhi
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The 45 Incubus & the Spa Channel

Finding myself in a rinse * repeat quotidian cycle of the 45 incubus sucking the life out of a sleeping America, I change the channel away from the noise to the

Spa-ah-ah-ah Channel

Uh, yeah. I’m not embarrassed to claim it. There is nothing else that takes me away in a sonic Calgon Bath other than this Channel 68. It wipes away the scum of anger and outrage over the scurrilous performance of a sitting President, his family, his cabinet, and the entire Republican party. In a push of a button, I have entered Middle Earth where the loving power of the fairest Elf, Galadriel, hovers above and in front of me backlit by the engulfing warmth of radiant light.

Nope, I haven’t smoked nor ingested anything to convert my demeanor other than the CHANNEL on my RADIO.  Today’s morning programming description: Greet the sun with relaxing and soothing sounds, the best in new age and ambient music from around the world. You’ll hear Enya, Will Ackerman and more. 

Is it tuning out? Indeed! And it’s more than that because it allows me to TUNE IN and re-center myself. Did I ever think I would be this person? It’s one thing to step into a spa treatment for an hour or more to immerse yourself into another world which includes hearing this music to drown out the daily chatter, but to live every day listening to it? You bet. It’s the one thing that truly refreshes and washes me clean of the vile news cycle. I need an escape from the unseemly reality of American politics. En route to anywhere, I immediately switch from an angry imp to a caring celestial being with one-push-of-a-button.

I just now switched it on through my computer to my studio monitors and the music of Robert Carty/Sylken in a piece titled “Deep Distance” resonates around my room. Ahhhhh

World Weary              Calgon Bath  Galadriel


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Trump * Putin * Assad * ISIS – Do the Math

AWe have visual confirmation that Trump remains completely friendly to the Kremlin and Putin by this photo (among others) taken by the Russian Press (since the American Press was not allowed into the Oval Office during their meetings).

Trump Kislyak Lavrov.jpeg   Trump Lavrov Kislyak.jpg

We know that Putin backs the heinous Assad regime in Syria.

From 2015, we learn that Assad won’t fight ISIS because he profits from it.

From April 15, 2017, Syria’s Assad is ‘Inextricably Connected’ to Islamic State.

Cut the rhetoric. Cut the bullshit. Cut the pretend games of sending 54 Tomahawk missiles to destroy NOTHING in Syria, not even the Syrian Air Force runway those 54 missiles should have damaged irreparably. Stop making vacant outbursts about your plan to defeat ISIS while you do nothing about it.  STOP PRETENDING to be against ISIS while maintaining your support for Putin and his regime who supports Assad who supports ISIS. Why do Assad, Putin, and therefore you, DJT, actually support ISIS? Because you’re all profiting from both the terror and the terrorism while keeping ISIS fed and armed.

And now this from NY Times: Meet the Connection Between Jared Kushner and Putin


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A Crack in the Universe Where the Pain Comes In

There is a crack in the universe where the pain comes in and keeps my mind in a Krampüs-enraged Mental Holocaust. (Lord have mercy…turn this down before you click the play button on song 2 and more at their bandcamp page…)

Can I get a witness? Do ya feel me? The duplicitous quotidian matter before us numerous times per hour (not even by DAY anymore!) feels like wading though the river Styx en route to a stop off in Neverland to pick up the young ones to swallow them whole because they just might make a great face cream to keep you looking young again. “It’s Palmolive: you’re soaking in it.”

The great American Dream has become UNHINGED and is reeling off the charts of negativism. Anger has enveloped the entire world to the point of too-often suicide bombers who bring death and destruction in horrific small doses while 45 sells billions in armaments to Saudi Arabia. What? Peddling massive weapons one day, touching a holy wall the next, meeting with the Pope the next mumbling, “I won’t forget what you said.” (ostensibly about peace) 

While 45 takes “heed” to the thought of his tiny hand in making peace, a ReTHUGlicon candidate running for Congress from Montana, Greg Gianforte, commits physical abuse in response to a question by a Guardian Reporter.

We are plunging…

Gustave Doré_-_Etching of Styx cc.large

Gustave Doré, 1861


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