that long meandering post you have dreamt about your whole life.

A friend was talking about a recent adventures of theirs and it made me think about pieces of my life that I have seen drift away like pieces of paper in moving water.
There were once things I did that I loved so much that it often made me ache. What I would call, painful joy.
I used to sing and dance so much. It would be the only thing that made me content. (besides books, but I will go into that later)
Now I rarely ever open up my voice and burst into song. If I do I am quite alone. It isn't as if that part of me is gone, just hidden.
When I was a teenager I trained (for what purpose I don't know) to sing, I performed all of the time and to me the pinnacle of happiness was applause.
For a time, stage fright (something I had never experience until then, even when I first performed for an audience at the age of three) engulfed me. Looking at a stage would cause me to shake with tremors and I would often run off because I would become sick.
Yet for a short time, I would wait off stage, staring at my feet and then I would come out onto that darkened floor and my breathing would become short and then the lights would come up, the music would start and all seemed perfect. Something so happy would erupt from the inside of me, even if I was singing a song that was filled with absolute pathos, and tragedy I felt so alive. I would see the audience and want to smile and my feet would begin to move. You receive such perfect unconditional love from an audience. When you know they are with you, that is "THE" moment. and when it all ends and they clap you are stuck right in that moment. I sometimes laugh, because I would often go off stage and think, "oh fuck I did a shitty job, that could have been so much better."
But I was so happy.
When I was even younger and I spent most of my time in a ballet school, I would take such comfort in the structure. I found a sort of freedom in it. Everything was about going higher, stretching farther, reaching for the sun. It was almost religious. I think of doing grande jete's. where you would find yourself suspended in a moment of time when you would leap into the air -turning, looking at the ground from such a height. It was ectasy. Yet...it is all gone now.
But...
Every once in a great while. I will be home by myself. I know no one will show up for a period of time. I might be doing the dishes and I will begin to hum a song.

Cole Porter.

quietly it begins to come out.

...."In old days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as somethin' shockin'..
(it becomes louder and more clear)
.."heaven knows, Anything Goes"

And I stop scrubbing a dish and I just let loose.
Feeling a bit of that ectasy once again.

the light stuff.

I worked, it was slow, and everyone was cheerfully dragging.
I went to the grocery store afterwards. It is one of my favorite safeways (on brooklyn) where they play things like Rammstein late at night, which seemed appropriate after an evening of customer service.
I bought a few things, came home. As I was walking down the block to my house I heard a strange noise. It sounded like a person. Then another person begin to make strange noises. I realized that a couple had left their window open and were in the midst of some pretty exciting sex.
Good for them!
Still, a bit off-putting when you are decompressing a million personal thoughts at once.
Once home, it was comfort food, a hot bath and television.
Sometimes lying in bed with hot chocolate, my heavy book on alexander the great, and a movie are all that is needed to make me happy.
I slept well, very very well.
I woke up to rain and I absolutely adore it. The bright colours of the dead leaves, the continual rain and knowing I don't have to be anywhere for quite awhile make me cheerful.

Tis a gift to be simple.

did I mention my freakin' email is down?
Miss. Gennie is losing her natural sense of joy.