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Channeling my Mother (is that one n ?)

2003-10-19 - 12:05 p.m.

There's no reason you need to know about this. But anyway, one night I was in Topanga at my first (and last) drum circle. Everyone was hitting something to make some noise. I tried a 4/4 hip-hop beat on my lap, (freestylin') but it was not to be. It didn't match the flow. The leader (self appointedly so) began (gently) dictating the beats, asking for a crescendo here and there, guiding us. He said, while only looking at me, that we could do ANYTHING - just ANYTHING- in this safe circle, and it would be ok. My mind was suddenly crowded with images and I fucked up my beat, man. I took a long sip of my peach-a-plummybeetcarrot and looked around. Eyes were closed. Heads were rolling (not off). Voices were humming. I yawned through my clenched teeth just as the leader announced we would go around the circle and we would all get time alone to do ANYTHING we wanted. Here was the basic breakdown:

1) Guy - decided to talk about an upcoming film he was working on. Like about the making of a dead...tree... autopsy. I don't really remember.

2) Girl - Did a (bad) poem.

3) Girl - ecothis and ecothat was all I heard.

4) Guy - told an old Indian fable about

an eagle and a (yawn) rock.

There were so many more but I had to go last. This was me:

29) Me - "I umm...giggle....fuck it let's just channel my Mother she's been dead 5 years, I haven't heard from her, she promised she'd talk - now, nothing. Maybe you guys could help."

One take charge kind of gal had me sit facing in the middle of the circle and everyone began to say my Mother's name. Carolyn. Carolyn. Except me, I just thought about how embarrassed I would be if my brothers(or anyone I knew back east) could see me. First faintly, then louder. Carolyn, Carolyn Carofuckin Lyn it was creeping me out! I signed on for this, I guess, but I didn't sign on for this, where's the fucking italics button when you need it!

Some of them were getting freaky, and, I think, enjoying it. It was like jesus, a little respect for the dead! How was I supposed to receive this? With eyes closed? No, oh no, I was going to be watching these guys. Chanting along? No, she may be watching! Did I mention she was a psychoanalyst? She'd probably be analyzing the whole bloody thing! With Freud and God knows who else! Do I clap/humm/sing/yell/weep? Oh no. I was frozen. I had created a monster and it's name was Topanga Carolyn.

What would you do? (Don't answer this if you live in Topanga) I will tell you what I did. I suffered. I sat through and suffered, because how in the fuck do you tell 28 people that are paying homge to a deceased woman they never met FOR YOU - to knock it off? You suffer. And you die just a little bit, and you bite it, because everyone expresses love in their own way. And when they were all done, making gookly sad eyes, and saying Yess, yess, and so it is, I cocked my head to one side and I smiled. Because in my mind I knew that in 15 years I'd be over this. It just wouldn't matter. And I wiped an imaginary tear from my eye with my sleeve, and I courtseyed (sp?)and I left the room. And I went and sat in the bathroom. And I looked in the mirror and giggled like only a girl who just had a botched attempt at channeling her Mother could.

And by the way, as I got to thinking about it, some of them kind of bowed out a little early on the chanting if you ask me. There were one or two who really weren't "into it". I'm cool with that, but like, that's my Mom - look alive.

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