Stuck - Norah Jones

Typically not into Norah Jones' older albums - too slow for me but her new album is awesome I particularly love the song posted below performed live - video isn't great but she sounds wonderful.  Love love love these lyrics:


I'm sitting here stuck
And plastered to my seat
I think of a reason to leave
When you finally start speaking

I'll take a a long stroll
Walked down washington street
Half asleep on my feet
Half aware if I'm dreaming

I'll go home alone
A sinking stone
A switched-off telephone
I'll go on briefly
A frozen breeze
A fallen down factory

I still see us swaying
But I can't hear what you're saying

I just lost the plot
Got a little copped
Been a little knocked
I just hit a wall
Had a little fall
I felt a swinging wrecking ball

Hi! Welcome to Chicago – it’s nice to meet you – here are the keys to my apartment.

So I belong to this website called Couchsurfing.  Couchsurfing is an online community where you can build a profile and then search for people in whatever city you are planning on visiting worldwide to host you.  

Hosting generally entails the following: lodging at your home and sharing cultural experiences as a native or resident of that particular place they are visiting.  Surfing means that you stay with a stranger and are prepared to see a new city from with a local perspective and twist.  The hosts can suggest great local hangouts where the Chicagoans really go as opposed to the tourist traps although there are the classic joints that visitors should check out which in my opinion include the following: deep dish pizza, Italian beef if you’re into the whole meat eating thing (I’m not, but I do live in a city who’s backbone has historically been the meatpacking industry), The Art Institute, The Field Museum etc.

Then of course my personal fave spots: Simones J, local Mexican joints here in Pilsen, Greektown, Little India by Devon, Wicker Park, The Green Mill, street festivals, downtown...  I also try to cater to each person’s individual agenda or taste. 

I love hosting for a number of different reasons.  I make new friends from all over the world and it’s a beautiful thing to share my home and life with an outsider and always leaves me with new perspectives from their point of view.  I learn about lot about different countries, different political systems from people who’ve lived there – not just read things in books.  It also gives me an opportunity to fall in love with Chicago.  For instance, at the beginning of the summer I had a young guy stay with me who was a comedian – he had a show here in Chicago and so we met up after work near the spot where his gig was at and I had the most amazing time laughing and getting introduced to the comedy culture in my own city. 

My biggest take-away from hosting was living in New Mexico for two months taking care of wolves.  After working at a dead-end corporate job that I hated for a year right after graduating from university I found myself stagnant and bored.  I had hosted this couple who told me about Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary and volunteering there and three months later I was on a plane to live with wolves myself: a life changing experience.

I’ve had visitors stay with me from all over the world: Australia, England, Germany, the Netherlands, Mexico, and Spain.  I’ve also had visitors stay with me from all over the United States from all walks of life.  I’ve had rich people stay with me, poor hippies travelling from city to city trying to find themselves, academics, self-taught prophets…it’s been an experience to say the least.  With each visitor my mind expands further and further while I realize how little I know.  It’s humbling, enlightening, and beautiful to connect with others in this fashion.

I’ve had varied reactions from friends when discussing how I participate on this site.  Generally, it’s something like: “I hope you don’t get murdered.”  Or “You’re not afraid that they will steal things from you?” or “that’s really cool – why do you do it?” Or “You’re so trusting of others – I could never do that.”

It’s not for everyone and I think to really belong to this type of community you have to be willing to have an open mind and an open heart for others.  You also have to understand that this isn’t a site where you can just go to someone’s home and crash there for a night ‘cause you’d rather not pay for a hotel – it’s a reciprocal type of thing.  Surfers have made me dinner, taken me out for a night on the town, cleaned my place, sent me gifts from their home countries or post cards or letters, maintained in contact, provided awesome business or life advice, and generally wanted to share experiences with me.

Alicia from Australia :)

Corey from California and her pet snake who also couchsurfed at my apartment.  :)

I research my potential visitors well via their profile to see their references and I generally won’t host people without references or anyone that I don’t think would make for interesting company.  I don’t host everyone who asks and do it to my convenience. 

I’ve sang karaoke with a German chick at an all Spanish karaoke bar, I’ve found hidden bars in Chicago I’ve never known, I’ve walked for miles and miles directionless all over this city, I’ve stayed up until 5 a.m. to watch the sun rising over Lake Michigan, I’ve had socio-political debates, I’ve heard some amazing live music from surfers in the comfort of my own home, I’ve had amazing meals not prepared by me, I’ve gotten recommendations for future travel destinations and above all I’ve got friends all over the world waiting to host me someday.  J

The Wind

It's a faint loneliness
like the wind blowing
calling my name
in an endless desert

Tomorrow life resumes
a bustling downtown
phones ringing
machines beeping
the monkey on the other line
well that could be anyone

They know my name
but can't whisper it softly
as the wind does

I always think about community
in the sense of hundreds of thousands of years ago
coexisting with the earth harmoniously
with all the time they had
tracking the movements of the stars
sun rising and falling
did they know this feeling?

I stare at the half full moon
and long for the stars
that the streetlights won't let shine through
I can see the pretty flowers and bees pollinating
and feel grateful but so empty

I live in the fantasies of my mind
of what can never be with unsuspecting souls
who don't know how to whisper my name
like the wind - blowing tumbleweeds through a desert
to their destiny, sure of her direction
under starriest of nights

I am only halfway of being who I want to be
and ten percent in knowing that woman myself
I speak with too much confidence
but I'm only sure that it's fooling everyone just enough

I hold myself so strongly up against my words
just to have something to believe
and my words have less foundation
than the wind, so heavily directed
then shifting suddenly without warning
and I swear that's how she knows my name

Nothing binds us, nothing holds us in place
I am a tumbleweed, my words directing
there's beauty to wandering and not belonging to anyone or anything
but not when you're trying to build castles out of sand
cause each direction looks so convincing
that it sweeps you away each time

I call to her softly asking
"who am I?"
she comes as she pleases gusting strongly
and passes right through me
as though she owes me nothing
and she's always right.

falling in love with the universe...

Just in case you forget how infinitesimal and tiny you really are.  We are but a grains of sand in this universe.

Need to go somewhere again to remind myself...

It's not futile - sand forms sandstone and survive rivers and time and sit for thousands of years preserving fossils.  Looking for infinite ways to fall in love with the universe today...might be in music or in smiles or in an out of place flower.

The Grand Canyon, 2009.

poetry posting craze

So ahh....feels good to write again - any poems you see on my page that are not credited to anyone else are mine.

I just found my old poetry portfolio from college and will be posting.  To ID this type of Jen at this moment in time circa 2002 - 2006 they will be in the color purple.  Poems that are in black were written in 2009 or 2010 and thus more recent.  Don't be shy about commenting or critiquing.  Enjoy the poems.

Disillusionment's Princess

The city streets are bustling with people

a five p.m. sidewalk rush hour

the buildings are gray and black and imposing

sucking the life force out of us

while blocking the sunlight

from reaching the top of my head

and I am wishing for open green fields

as a deep breath drawn fills me

with exhaust fumes mixing with deep dish delights

The rainforests in Chiapas

are still pristine, clear and clean

'cept the government can't seem

to preserve them so..

contractors get contracts

and houses are built

unworthy

of that 200 year old tree

The gray faces on the subway

match the 7p.m. hue of Chicago's concrete alleys

and I live here.

At the heart of it all

I am disillusionment's princess

I sit in my big gray castle

going over invoices of laughter

and grumble at just another bill to pay.

Zero

These days I've been
Finding inspiration in the little things
Like that rat scampering down the alley
Sunrise's golden light on a rose
A dead cat run over in the street
And you stopping to pick it up with such care

I was wide awake
Dreaming epiphanies
Listening to NPR
And a woman talking about yoga practice
How delving deeply into yourself
Shows the light and the shadow
To embrace your light
You must also embrace your dark

So between the child prostitutes
And the elementary school teachers
Between the kamikaze bombers
And the spiritual warriors
It's not Light vs Shadow
Rather and Shadow and Light
That make this world so damn beautiful
And so goddamn horrendous

Hurricanes are helping our Mother
Retaliate for the endless years
We've existed trying to separate ourselves
This teenage rebellion has gone too long
She says
And we wage our wars in exhaust fumes
And oil drills
And we make our love too little too late
And can't plant those trees fast enough

Light is struggling for that balance
Over Shadow these days
And I pray with all my faith
That we go back to that magical number
The Mayans knew was key
The Arabs were credited for first
Hunab ku
Yin Yang
The Divine Feminine and Masculine
The Black and The White

Take me back to zero

Haunted

I don't want to live in your head anymore
Wandering in the blue melancholy
Of your nostalgia
Remembering our first kiss
Or the day you met me at that party
when you thought I looked so beautiful
19 and high on opium
a red bandana covering my hair


We are still attached through invisible wires
Enough to feel your thoughts penetrating through me
And I feel I'm in your mind all the time
I felt your nightmares, and I'm just as sleepless and scared
I felt you sleep with someone else
Penetrating through her thighs angry
I wonder if she knew you were thinking of me


You're not speaking to me these days
And this sadness fills me to the brim
Wondering if things could have happened some other way
I know of the injuries sustained
I'd read it later in the report
The sharp knife wound to the heart
Then later stab wounds to the stomach
Severe blood loss left you dizzy and weak
I held that knife, didn't I?


No, I was in the kitchen crying
You picked me up saying I never let you
Carry me ever
And I held my lips back when you tried to kiss me
Saying not this time
Not this time


Droplets of blood on my kitchen floor
And you left defeated down the stairs
And I mourned and mourned
Sorrow left alone building forts
At the pit of my stomach


Two months later and I'm still haunting
The back of your mind
Disappearing through the walls
Of your memories
Holding your pumping heart
In a white gown
And we can't both live like this for long
I ask for freedom now
It's time to go
The lights are long gone
And the stage is dusty
The curtains drawn
There won't be an encore


Cause I don't want to live in your head anymore
Wandering in the blue melancholy
Of your nostalgia

Jolie Holland

Jolie Holland is one of the musicians that I had heard musically before ever seeing any photo of her. She plays in the folk trio of rockin songstresses: The Be Good Tanyas that use lots of banjos, ukeles, and the sort...

I'm in love with this song but was so shocked to see what she looked like. I always thought she'd look different. This is one of those cases where you imagine someone's face after having heard their voice for so long and I always thought she'd look a little sweeter--rounder cheeks, less gothish looking...

Check out the video:

I'm obsessed with this poem

Poema 15
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.

Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolía.

Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante.
Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo.
Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.

Déjame que te hable también con tu silencio
claro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.
Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.

Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.
-Pablo Neruda

Now in English please:

Poem 15
It pleases me when you grow silent,
as though you were absent,
and you hear me from afar,
and my voice does not touch you.
It seems that your eyes have flown from you
and it seems that a kiss will close your mouth.
As everything is filled with my soul,
you emerge from everything,
filled with that soul.
Dream butterfly,
you resemble my soul
and you resemble the word melancholy.
It pleases me when you grow silent
and are as if far away.
As if moaning, butterfly lulled to sleep.
And you hear me from afar,
and my voice does not arrive:
let me quiet myself with your silence.
Let me speak with you also with your silence,
clear as the lamplight,
simple as a ring.
You are like the night,
quieted and clustered with stars.
Your silence is of the star,
so faraway and simple.
It pleases me when you grow silent,
as though you were absent.
Distant and dolorous as though you were dead.
One word then, one smile is enough.
And I am happy, happy that that is not so.

Translation: Terence Clarke

more poems and they keep a comin

El Diablo:

I saw her in your eyes a couple of times
half crazed, apathetic, uncurable anger and lust
I loved you so well
naive and wide eyed, my love my medicine
but you preferred a bottle of whisky or gin
and I kissed those lips getting drunk off the taste

I slept with you; I slept with the devil
I slept with you; I slept with the devil
three made for a crowded bed
and I thought I could win
carrying a light; a torch so bright
armed with idealistic dreams
of what we could be

but the Devil's quite the temptress
and her breath intoxicating
the cold showers of sobriety
just can't compete with her

I was a shot of water
asking your drunken ears "where were you?"
I was a hard pinch
bringing you back from your drunken dreams
and I didn't want to share you in my bed

She'd never ask for a damned thing
other than "Would you like another drink?"
she'd never cared who you brought into bed
she drove you mad - getting you arrested
passion in your blood surging
fighting with everyone that you loved

she was the only one who knew you
who'd chase you down
the dark dank hallways of your soul
she'd leave you there alone
she'd let you be

and I was so colorful
flushed cheeks giggling running towards you
cause hey life aint so bad
I guess I didn't understand
I tried to follow you down
then I'd hold my own hair back
sitting at the bathroom sink
and you'd never come to comfort me

Me plus you plus the devil is three
me plus you plus the devil is three
me plus you plus the devil is three
and I did not come here to party.