Flying 4th of July

I spent yesterday in the East Bay with some wonderful old friends and a few new ones, too. Judy and Ben invited me to come hang out with their family and friends in their garden in North Berkeley, near my old neighborhood. I brought Ramona with me and Judy asked if we could pick up a colleague of hers who is visiting from Uganda, doing research in the field of Toxicology at UCSF. His name is Anuka. Normally I have a hard time with names, but for obvious reasons this one is easy for me. There was also Ben and Judy's niece at the barbecue whose name is Veronica.

We treated Anuka, who has been in the US for only about 5 days, to many typical 4th of July traditions - mojitos, margaritas accidentally made with rum, fajitas, spicy fruit salad, fireworks, and the strangest tradition of all, flying in a hammock that hangs in Ben and Judy's living room, constructed by an occupational therapist in order to help their son Sam increase sensory perception, or something like that. (Ben, you're welcome to respond here and explain).
I wonder if we woke the kids up with our joyful screams. I wonder what they thought was going on in the living room -- it does look a bit kinky.

This was a glorious way to end the evening, though none of us felt tired once we had our turn. It definitely made driving back over the bridge at midnight a lot easier.

















New Song: (written and appropriately titled prior to the above illustrated experience)


"Terrified"
Hollow like a bone on a desert floor
Heavy like a stone I can’t carry no more
I can’t carry no more, I can’t carry no more

Caught like a horse on a carousel
Lost like a penny down a wishing well
I think I’ve been here before
Looks like I’ve been here before

And when I look inside
I look terrified
I look terrified

Mournful as a wind on western plain
That’s how I feel when I hear my name
When I hear my name

Sometimes I dream of a different world
Where I emerge like a water pearl
And I am me again, and I am me again

But when I look inside
I look terrified
I look terrified

I have reached and I have fallen down
Everything I know just keeps on turning round and round
And everywhere I go it seems like I’m just losing ground
I have reached and I have fallen down

ART

I'm surrounded by art. Friday I went to an opening of my dear friends, Hugh and Mati in the Mission. It was totally happening! I saw tons of friends and best of all, a lot of wonderful new and older work by H and M. It was great to see how excited everybody was to be there with them...and the red dots were landing all over the place. Pam and Alicia quickly laid claim to a beautiful Mati original. (Not pictured because I can't find a copy of it on the internet.

You can see their work at www.matirose.com and www.hughillustration.com. They're getting married in a couple of months, too.


My mom just had her big art show in Salt Lake City - it's an annual event in her garden that hosts a couple of thousand visitors over three days. I wish I could have been there. In addition to exhibiting a lot of new art, her own and that of four other artists, she was celebrating the release of her new book, "My Kitchen Table", out on University of Utah Press.

You can get it online - amazon.com as well as other places. Her website is www.pilarpobil.com.
It's a collection of her paintings as well as stories from her life in Spain. As many of you know, I've been working on a collection of songs inspired by the Mediterranean and my Spanish Heritage...much of my inspiration coming from the stories I heard growing up.

Sorry I've been absent for a while - I've been trying to keep the myspace blog happening a bit - (you know, trying to keep Blame Sally in the news), and writing lots of new songs.

Here's one:

Maps (name inspired by a brilliant CD compiler and map-maker I know)

Numbers and surveys, guides and how-to’s
These navigations, they don’t ring true
I come from ages of stone and sea
Like ink on parchment, written on me

I know I’d see it if I’d just look
I don’t need programs, I don’t need books
What can they tell me? What can they know?
I am contained here, I’m on my own

And this cold desire, the ways that I’ve been lost
And this ring of fire, the place that I must cross

Just to become
Just to become
Just to become

Before I got here, before I learned
Before the lessons when truth got burned
I came from ages of stone and sea
Like ink on parchment, written on me

And this cold desire, the ways that I’ve been lost
And this ring of fire, the place that I must cross

Just to become
Just to become
Just to become