Narinda Heng,

So I’ve come back from my mini sabbatical.  I am watching V For Vendetta (finally by myself without those glaring eyes from Richard [long story about him and his insecurities]) and going over part of V’s speech in my mind that not only reminds me of The Undeniables, The Gun Shop, Break The Silence, etc…  It makes me think of our conversations and you.  I think we had a conversation, or some sort of mutual agreement on the power of words.  I also considered our conversations where I admitted to you my reluctance about performing my more angry political work at Break The Silence – feeling that the message is long lost among many politically apathetic minds and only connecting with very few knowledgeable minds (such as yours).  And this is what brought me back to write this before the next session:

There are of course those who do not want us to speak… Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn’t there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission.  – V

You yourself analyzed and informed other about the power struggle between the people and the government, as well as their abuse of power with the use of power of S 1959.

But anyways, let’s start from the beginning.  Though tired and frazzled, I can get the hang of that chronological pattern for writing that makes things some much easier.

Before we actually met, I remember some of your work that you read and was quite entranced.  Honestly.  It was your presence, your appearance, and your control of your words and the stage.  I found you captivating.  I was sitting with a couple friends on the floor seating for Break The Silence, working on some random scribbles/pieces that drifted through the day and had to stop when I heard you.  There were other artists that happened to be quite good, but I wanted to give you my full attention to see if there was anything that I could find inspirational.

Along with amazing people and first impressions comes equally if not better conversations.  And the few we’ve shared have all been influential (only word I could think of to explain it.  I swear.).  I am surprised I checked out The Undeniables, but am quite happy now that I did.  So thank you for persuading/inviting me.  We’ve enjoyed and shared a good meal (and I couldn’t believe how Ish handled that dish), good hookah and great conversation topics – ie: San Fran., women, cigarettes, poetry, life, culture, politics/society’s demise (in my opinion xD ) and now we get to share another session together.  Though I came in towards the end of this one, I can’t wait to see where the next one goes.

As it happens I think I’m going to give correspondence one more chance.  While challenging, it doesn’t scare the shit out of me let alone I don’t automatically think I’ll give up due to “writer’s block” (aka discouragement since I feel my poetry has gone down hill since New Orleans).  This challenge to devote time and writing to someone, or something has been making me concentrate and focus on my words more than anytime before.

It was great getting to see you and I feel bad I didn’t get to spend more time, but I didn’t realize I could just leave the camera sitting there and socialize.  I didn’t really believe Tim.  Next time for sure, if I don’t take an L.A. day anytime soon.

Without knowing how else to end this session – and with lots of love,
Kayla

Ben Miles,

I adore you.  I enjoy quite a few of your movies, tv shows, etc…

But there’s something about you that describes what Richard has deemed one of my quirks.  My infatuation with handsome middle aged, prematurely greying men.  Maybe it’s the accent, the smile, the grey.

Richard got tired of The Wings Of The Dove, Imagine Me & You, and V For Vendetta – so I’m going through Coupling.

Anyways, I think you’re one of the few people I would be star struck seeing, if I ever had.

There’s really no point to this simple note, it’s merely the fact that I’m watching some of my favorite episodes of Patrick, and Richard is nervous that he may not have that beacon of, well…  Attractiveness.  I think you’re a great actor – quite beautiful, and I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time (because of Patrick).

/fangirl adoration-infatuation,
Kayla

Watching: Coupling

Undeniables,

How do I decide?

Do I push myself to continue with correspondence, though few of my letters are worth the read?  Do I push myself with the unknown, the novel?  Or do I try the poetry aspect, knowing the high probability of me becoming discouraged…  Possibly leading me to quit?

What do I do?

Kayla

Myself-My Feet-Randy,

The first thing he pointed out was the disconnect that radiated from me to him through the lackluster embrace.  Pretty sad I no longer have the skill I used to, to cover up and give someone a warm greeting.  Do I really wear my heart on my sleeve…  That apparently?

Maybe it was because I was still wearing my shoes.

I tend to decide, if not blame, things on the state of my feet.  And I had missed the step of taking off my shoes before walking inside and ordering.

I’ve learned that when I leave my shoes on, I keep my tensions-thoughts-and negativity built up within my body and my head.  But the minute I take off my shoes…  Maybe that simple liberation frees my mind.

So the end of this is to Randy:

I’m terribly sorry for the disconnected, simply spaced out hello.  but thank you for understanding it.  For someone I’ve met about 4 times and spoke to 3 times, you read me well (though it doesn’t seem to be too hard as of late).

Slowly winding down,
Kayla

Heat,

I can’t think.

I can’t write.

Why can’t I escape you?

Quite annoyed,
Kayla

The Undeniables,

Originally this started as a nudge from Narinda.  She suggested that I check this site out and I participate, which I shrugged a little bit (apparently my commitment phobia goes beyond relationships), but after going through different pages and reading different letters, I realized my fears were quite…  Inane.  I finally got the courage to email Edren and present my interest.

I’m quite happy with my decision.

I found that, while not incredibly consistent, I look forward to writing in this.  Whether there is something that simply comes to mind, or something I need to address not only in my head, but to address with words, I feel like I can do it here.  There is a comfort level I have yet to experience with other blogs and journals.

I feel that sometimes, this becomes an entity in my mind I can turn to, run to with ideas, and beyond all else, I can trust this.

I spent my morning treating myself to some episodes of Coupling (UK version), and while some people think it’s a pretty dumb show, I loved it.  Went to another Job interview and had a timing conflict, as it should be.  I knew I was wrong, but they called and cleared it up, so I guess that works.  And presently I’ve sat here at Bob’s condo reuniting myself with some amazing musical loves.  Jason Mraz’s cover of Queen’s “Good Ol’ Fashion Lover Boy” and lots of 90’s music, since I group up on it, and absolutely cherish it.  Besides, if I’m playing this 90’s flashback show, I already know one of the songs I’m covering is The Indigo Girl’s “Least Complicated.”

I’m still in my interview outfit (pinstripe pants, white and black checkered blouse) and trying to find a comfortable way to sit in this room, not only to enjoy the view of the ports and San Pedro, but to put myself in the simple mood of writing.

While there are some little nooks and crannies, little niches for myself, I can’t write here.  Which is quite disappointing.  I guess I can write here, but it never seems like it’s me writing.  I feel as though I take on some elitist pretentious attitude when I end up here and I hate myself like that.  So I lie on wooden floors, walk around the tower not wearing shoes, and find mindless ways to try to humble myself (at least in my mind, because that’s where it all starts anyways, isn’t it?).

I’m stuck in my head a little too much.

What was the point to this?

Oh right, my appreciation and fascination with the Undeniables.  Wow, that was relatively simple.  Now if I can write a couple poems/analysis/essays whatever it may be.  Tonight is the one year anniversary of Soul Fire.  8pm, The Mirage Cafe on Atlantic and Bixby in Long Beach.  Pretty chill, I can’t wait.

Badly dancing to 90s music (the only way you can dance to 90s music,
Kayla

Third Eye Blind – How’s It Going To Be [Third Eye Blind]

Empty notebook,

You present a challenge and a new slate.  I’m glad I’m starting fresh, and hopefully within the next day and a half, having an empty canvas to work on will keep my mind and my pen open.

I can only hope that this trip and job interview will help me see something outside my front door for a change.

Maybe I’ll have something to write about then.

Soon you will be full and with the collection.  But never forgotten.  Just aged, wise, mature – with the hint of immaturity in future years to come.

Lost,
Kayla

Watching: Coupling (UK)

Tuesday,

You have always been one of those least favorite days. Honestly. I hope that doesn’t hurt your feelings, it’s just that sometimes you seem absolutely worthless. Though, I might not like you tonight it’s because all my plans got thrown aside for a woman that doesn’t care about me, and…  There’s nothing to you.  You’re just a filler from the beginning of the week, to the middle.

My day didn’t start off too badly. I woke up early, handled some errands and made myself a really good breakfast.

But after breakfast I started getting the calls, and the simple pleasures of my morning disappeared.  My drive for the morning was gone.  I didn’t have the opportunity to do any of the errands I looked forward to, and actually dreaded much of my day.

Just not right. Something was off today. Maybe it’s the heat, I’ve always hated the heat.

Tuesday, why is it that for such an unimportant day, so much has to go on? Sometimes I think my mom figures out my schedule to plan events and appointments so that I can’t make it to my original idea. All I wanted tonight was to jump on the Metro and go to Tuesday Night Cafe (named for that day…) and it simply couldn’t happen. I had to help someone who will never be thankful for it, and then come to my mom’s. The one time I plan to go to TNC, my work out is scheduled for Wednesday morning and I have to be there at 6:30am to do cardio. I can hardly handle the work out with 8 hours of sleep, try 5.

Then Tuesday… Oh you simply had to cause issues with the tv and my dad, the mail, my friends coming over, dishes, food, etc. For some reason everything in my house goes down on Tuesday. What I wouldn’t have given to have had an early Gunshop, then head over to TNC. Simple. Beautifully set up… Wouldn’t it be amazing?

Tuesday why are you so complicated? You’re subtle, annoying, long, and frankly… I have no problem admitting that I have a case of the Tuesdays.

But then I remembered that they were playing Anthony Bordain shows on both Food Network and Discovery Channel (I think). And my night ended on a simple note.

The only way to cure a case of the Tuesdays is with a simple dinner, long shower, Honey-Vanilla lotion, a great view:
and some good tv.

Tuesday… While throughout the day I couldn’t stand you, couldn’t wait for the middle of the week, and counted hours ’til you were over… I always end up remembering… At least your not stuck in the middle of the week like Wednesday.

Confused and quite tired,
Kayla

“Food always tastes good when you have sand between your toes.” – Anthony Bordain

Abigail Adams,

You are truly an inspiration.  Your passion for the written word, your independence yet loyalty to your man, family, country…  You stood strong in the face of what many women would consider a force that defeated them.  But you always wrote.

How does a marriage last that long just with letters?

How do two people so fitting find each other?

Maybe you can be a force within my life.  Not just when it comes to love, strength, perseverance, and dedication…  I hope you could be a guiding force for my writing.

I really don’t know what to say, because nothing I could write could ever sit within the shadow of your words.

Love,
Kayla

Edren,

I guess this could be considered a response plus an explanation to your letter.

That’s amazing that you work with children.  I love working with children, though I know I’m not amazing with them.  I tend to treat kids the way my parents treated me.  Like somewhat of an equal, just much shorter.  I’ve stopped looking at it as compromising my mentality/vocabulary, and started seeing it as learning how to communicate with a completely different sect of humanity.  There’s something in talking with children.  Other than filling me with hope for our future generations (I really need to stop sounding like I’m a shitty 4th rung politician), it’s speaking to someone who is completely confident in their mind, beliefs, and statements.  The kid a babysat the other week got me to believe in the power of the Power Rangers, and one of my students (my favorite kid, which I can admit here) has me believing in the possibilities of Jimi Hendrix not being dead (ergo, why he’s my favorite).  The kid is 9, talking about Hendrix.  Reminds me of me.

It’s funny that you mention superheroes, ’cause I was recently having a conversation with a close friend about the subject.  For a few months, I was basically living with a friend of mine, and both of us were at a peak in our manias.  While believing he was every amazing, and dark past having superhero, he would continuously switch the personalities/characters that he could become.  While it sounds terribly awkward and unnerving to some, I understood it and fell full force into believing I was not only an old soul, but a range of amazing superheroes.  But I mainly thought of myself as Hawkgirl.  Now a days, I don’t quite remember why, but there was something appealing at knowing that while I was an old soul, each of my lives would ultimately be similar.  And whether or not it’s because I’m a Taurus (though I hear it is), I like knowing that somewhere in life is consistency.

But to get back to the letter and why you wrote to me, I felt that you deserve a letter in depth and worth reading.

I got home a little while ago.  I spent the day riding Metros around L.A. with my dad (since he’s never been) and running around downtown Long Beach with some friends.  Now to give a little history, my insomnia and depression started in July after a miscarriage (though possibly met with joy, I’m still looking into it) and both of these factors plus the 4-5 hours of sleep knocked me out.  But I pushed on with my day.  Seeing a couple MCs, really cool performances, an amazing open mic and a play put me in the spirits to enjoy my day, my friends, and finally gave me the opportunity to not think about myself or my family.  Sounds terrible, but I stay awake at night worrying, praying, crying, writing…  Hoping that something will eventually get better for everyone.

But like I said, I got home a little while ago.  I had skipped out on a party/kickback, knowing that I could get 6-7 hours of sleep if I went to sleep right away.  As I always do when I’m getting ready for bed, I go through Undeniables.  I haven’t had the chance to snag books from the library since my drop off, and I realized that I have such an amazing source of diverse writing right next to me.  I scroll through the list on my profile, after admiring the picture in my header (because I’m vain and my exgf didn’t want to use the collage for a back piece which she had commissioned me to create).  I check out Narinda’s, not only to read but because I haven’t seen her in a while, and then I scroll over your name, seeing you had addressed me in a letter.

Here’s the real part of the letter.

I quite admire that you stuck to the rules so well.  I’ve been a bit flaky lately, but I realized the days I don’t write are basically the days I don’t do anything at all.  Apparently I don’t think either.

I would like to thank you for the warning.  I actually considered it at one point during the paragraph, but decided that if it was written to me, than I need to give the time to read it.  But primarily, I was still incredibly touched and interested, and couldn’t stop myself.

When I found out about my grandfather starting dialysis, I was laying in bed with my ex-girlfriend – kissing and listening to Howling Wolf (she was amazing).  I simply remember getting the call from my mom.  Whether or not I tried getting off the phone with my mom, I didn’t hang up until she told me the real reason why she called.  I don’t know whether I said “okay” and hung up (which I have done in the past so to come off strong and stoic while kicking myself inside) or if I cried.  Either way, I had a friend drive me to Glendale and stop by the house I grew up in, thanks to my grandfather.

To hear this about the man that spent years raising me, teaching me, singing and playing multiple instruments, introducing me not only to chocolate – but the I Love Lucy and Gilligan’s Island…  The man that taught me lessons of compassion, forgiveness, faith, and the appreciation of art…  To hear that he had been feeling ill and couldn’t walk.  That he didn’t want to go to the hospital, or said he was okay even though he wasn’t and wouldn’t show weakness.  After talking to my family I found out he had started hallucinating and was getting sicker by the day.  And this time it wasn’t issues with diabetes, but this was the failing of his kidneys.  Hearing someone had to carry him into the car to take him to the hospital…  I think was the start of multiple mental breakdowns.

And while he looks better now than he did back then, I still know he can’t survive without treatments 3 times a week.  When I look at my grandfather in person, I no longer see the life and family loving man that would watch tv with me and teach me about music…  I see tubes.  I see unfocused eyes, tubes, and smell the disconnected anti-bacterial/anti-happiness.

I am terribly sorry to hear about your friend.  That’s absolutely terrible, and I honestly don’t know what I would do if I lost my grandmothers.  Though I hardly see them, and not have much of the chance to communicate with them, there is still the bond and love that I hope never to lose.

I wish the best for your friend and her grandmother.  I can only hope that things get better and stable.  They will be in my warm wishes and prayers.

Your friend is very lucky to have you to talk to.  Even though you may have few words to say, presence – compassion – and sympathy is necessary and always appreciated.

I can only hope this letter made some sense, and was the response/explanation I intended it to be, though now I’m second guessing myself.  Must be the time and the lack of sleep.  Sweet dreams.

With regards and sympathy,
Kayla

P.S. – I hate the heat as well.