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5/02/2015

Photo of the Day: See the Light!


See the Light

I <3 this. Took this today. The vision of it was something that lifted my spirits, which have been quite troubled as of late, although I've been learning so, so much. I've gotten better at plowing through tough stuff, but I'm damn tired of doing it alone. It always seems to happen that way, go figure. I mean my roommate Buzz stares at me and makes jokes, but you know, that gets old. Besides, he drools sometimes. This part of my life saddens me greatly. Not always, but I often feel very strange. Lone wolf, aye. I don't understand, but that's me, that's how it works out the majority of the time. Right now, my life is quite naked. Lost a ton of things all at once. Bye bye. I pretty much don't have any "thing" to hold on to at all. But I have my friends, my fam, my cat, nature, and this bare bones type of life brings me to that which is always there:  the Spirit of the Universe. As my good friend K. sang to me today, Time to grow.

C.A. MacConnell

Under the Covers

Near Short Vine, me and Susan chill and smoke up
at the toothless cat’s McMillan dive.
Wimpy, cool kids beg below the window.
I see them through the zoo bars.
You know, faces all cut up.
We know no heat or Dr. Seuss is coming.
The puppy is sick, and the cat is gone.
Me, loaded, Susan, on snow, we shiver together,
no more than shaky, sick,
whatever twigs. We share a White
Castle. On the wet futon, we wrap up
in Street Barbie’s leftover, wet, thin, gray blankets,
keeping watch on the scratched, black floor.
Everywhere, burns. Everywhere, pick-up-sticks
and GI Joe’s Hep C. The room moves with roaches.
Susan is seeing Care Bears. To stay warm,
I eat her pussy. Cheeks sink in -- our sleepy hollow.
When I give up, she throws up.
We hurt, hugging lightly, and love isn't working,
but it’s still on the brain.
Better, I half-sleep. You know, Platoon.
Susan stands tall, writing on the wall
with fluorescent paints, yelling at the ceiling,
calling it, Mother.
Eyes like cartoon girls, she raises her right arm,
holding up the neon yellow pen. Connect-the-dots
is tough -- her sores are moving again. Shrugging,
Susan smiles and says, If you leave, I just might
kill myself.
She draws me that freaky Rainbow Brite girl.
I tell her to tone it the fuck down.
Susan wants to go to prom.
I’m in.
The puppy is sick, and the cat is gone.

C.A. MacConnell

5/01/2015

Photo of the Day: Race Track

Race Track
C.A. MacConnell

:)

F'n Rad Text of Resignation

fiction
(Texting)
Manager (10pm):  Here's sched for this week. 12-4, M-F. This week is crucial! Gotta get in gear! When U get there at 10am, make sure you move all fifteen 300lb racks to left. Driving home, I saw they were on the rt, and we can't have that. Also, if work not done, U must stay late. Please. :)

Employee:  10? I thought you said 12? Okay, I move racks. But just curious, why?

Mgr:  The placement is crucial! OK. :) Can u come in at 9? Everyone is. Do it for the team. We're gonna get slammed SOON.

Employee:  I thought you said 12-4? I'm confsed. But OK, I make it work tom, but I have other job, remember I am only PT.

Mgr:  Also, I'd appreciate it if U stay late if racks are not on the left. The placement is CRUCIAL!

Employee:  I can't stay late. I have other job so I can't. But thank you, I like the job, and I be there for my sched of course, no prob.

Mgr:  Okay, so can you come in at 8?

Emp:  Tom, OK. But you sched me 12-4 this whole wk, right, like we discussed months ago? So far I've come in early every day, but I can't do that more, sry. I have other job.

Manager:  Right, may have to chg that sched to 10-5. Gonna be a crazy time for the team! ;)  Why don't you come in at 7 tomrrow and we can have a mtg. We're all stayin til 5, and if there's more work, we might have to stay a lil later to get er done! I have new ideas to expand. I spoke with the President, and he agreed to let us try new things.

Emp:  I spoke with the Pres too. Make sure U get there at 6am. The Pres told me that one new thing we're gonna try to lessen the work load is to take those racks and shove them up your ass. The placement is CRUCIAL! ;) <3

C.A. MacConnell

4/30/2015

Away from the Belly of the Beast

The last day I drank alcohol was in early December of 1997. That night, I was sitting in a bar called The Belly of the Beast (oh yes, it was as lovely as it sounds, like a red/black dungeon) in Salem, Virginia, drinking with a grad school friend. We thought we were cool, slick, dramatic drunken poets. We prided ourselves on being fucked up artists. But I had always thought that he was "worse off." For this reason, I liked being around him – it made me feel like I wasn’t so bad. That’s how I chose my friends; that is, I focused on how I could appear halfway together. In reality, my days were planned like this: how can I drink like I need to and not get the shakes? That was the sched. The "norm" became darker and darker.

So we were putting them away, like always.

Right before I was about to go on stage and sing, he started talking about his drinking. He said he couldn’t stop, that he needed help. His eyes looked bigger, darker, wetter. You know, googly.

Suddenly it hit me that he wasn't "worse" than me, but rather, he was my mirror.

When we returned to my designated "party house," something strange happened. Out loud, to the wall or the ceiling or the sky or god or whatever, I whispered, "I want more.” Repeatedly, I said it: "I want more," as my friend disappeared out the front door. Call it a spiritual awakening, a drunken dream, or a break in synapse, but whatever it was, I felt these words from my wasted head to my broken toe. I wanted more out of life. I wanted more spiritually. I wanted more with my relationships. I craved love, but all I knew was sex, and I felt lonely every second of the day. I felt utterly powerless over the booze – physically, mentally, and spiritually. I was too afraid to stop and too afraid to keep going.

That day, I realized that no amount of outside shit could fix the mess within me. I was terrified, but I knew I had to face that mess. And it wasn't pretty. My first two years of sobriety were the absolute worst years of my life, much worse than any of my drinking days, ironically. I guess it was faith and support that kept me going, I’m not sure. At times, I believe it was just pure luck. More than difficult. I almost didn’t make it, honestly. But I did. I did make it. What the fuck, I’m still here.

And later, I wrote a book about that mess. Fiction, yeah, but it tells a raw tale close to my heart, and the meaty part, the message, is fiercely close to who I am. I believe our joy can bring us together. I believe our suffering can bring us together. Everything. Can. Bring. Us. Together.

Today, I'm a fighter rather than a runner. I feel a new strength, and yet I'm still sensitive and aware. My spiritual life is key to me. Sure, I still get off track. Sometimes, way off track, like this week, ha. Sure, I still get lonely and pissed and confused and lost and then some, but when I dig deep, I know that there’s a certain sense of peace there, a peace that speaks to me and tells me that I’m on the right path for me. Little old me. And that makes it worth it, this feeling of being true to myself.

Feelings change. Situations change. People change. I’m grateful to have been around long enough in this life to see the way that troublesome situations can indeed turn into something rather miraculous. It happens, yes. I’m glad to be far away from The Belly of the Beast. I'm glad to feel more awake.

Man, I'm tired, but I believe,
C.A. MacConnell

4/29/2015

Photo of the Day: Y

Y
C.A. MacConnell

From the Wolf

From the P.O.V. of the Wolf. Just redid this sucker. I love it. Sounds good out loud, for sure. :) -- C.A.

From the Wolf

You are there to me, Mouth
You are here to me, Ear
You are Teeth and Paw
Tonight, where is Pack, I'm coming
Only the gaping
Hello silence
Then Pretty Wolf, somewhere else, West, calls out, yes,
You
Something Thin is running -- slow Old Deer heads south
We let Him live once, remember
I sing, testing Air, loving Wind,
Like Mother told me way back when, over Milk
Pretty, I hear your tone when You are
Home, at hunt, at play
Last week, we ripped up Rabbit
Seems like always, we have Howling
Then we're trapped in Quiet,
Like the too-long Tooth that never falls out,
When it tucks deep in Cheek,
Pressing there, making a Hurt,
A strange shape in Jaw, no matter how hard Brother plays,
Trying to knock it
Loose
Shiver myself dry, and I almost see your
Black Wet Nose
Whiskers, bring your Face home, here, with me
Man, the two-legged ones dug holes again
So I can't find Father
Pretty, Left Ear twitches for You
Lip curls, for above all, I am
Fierce, first
Neck hair feels stiff
Tell Uncle I smell coyotes
I make Prints
I mark Ground
You will find me if Gray Stray doesn't fight me first
We can have Sleep together
I hear You, but I can't see those
Eyes, perfect, like Moon, yours
Soon
You and me, shredding Meat.

C.A. MacConnell

4/28/2015

Photo: Coffee or Tea? And a Note.

Coffee or tea? Coffee for me.

Hi. Changed the blog look to blue...felt more soothing, ha. Posted this pic on my fb a few days ago. A photo that feels joyful to me, for some reason. Wanted to feel some lightness and joy. Wanted to send it on out to the universe as well. Haven't been writing for a li'l bit...been going through some growing pains, shall we say, and I don't like to write when I'm going through tough stuff...I like to let things sink in and such, and then come at it from a smarter angle, with integrity, or not at all. Not to mention all of the fires that have erupted in families close to me, as well as the painful situations that are happening all over the world. I realize that all around, there are those suffering great tragedies. Let us all pray for peace. Let me show someone else some love today, regardless of the way I feel. I can do this. I can put my two cents in, right on.

I'll be back to the grind soon. Looking forward to putting some time in on my 3rd book. I'm about 100 pages in, and at the moment, it's a mess, but it always begins with a mess, so the fun part's coming.

From the heart, peace out,
C.A. MacConnell

4/26/2015

Photo: Antiques

Antiques
C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Kylin, "Kevin"

Mom's mom, Grammie, when she was living, thought that my cat's name was "Kevin." I never told her any differently, so every time she called, she asked, "How's Kevin?" It always cracked me up. Grammie loved canning, cooking, baking, anything kitchen-related really. We were quite opposites; however, we had a similar wild streak. I used to have a pic of Grammie driving a race car with flames on it. She was around 90 years old in the photo. I can't find it anywhere, but she sent it as her Christmas card that year, and I'll never forget the day I opened that sucker. I was like, Hells yeah.

C.A. MacConnell

4/24/2015

Sign Patrol: Fish Fry


Sorry I cut off some of the letters here, but I was being deep. Anyhow, according to this sign, "Friday's all you can eat fish fry," with that apostrophe there, it actually means that someone named Friday is having a fish fry inside. Man, Friday must be cookin' up a storm if it's all you can eat! He/she must be quite the chef, dayum. Friday must be obsessed with fish to be fryin' up all that. I'm going to see if I can meet him/her. Why doesn't someone help Friday out, man? That's a lot of work, just sayin.

C.A. MacConnell

4/23/2015

Photo of the Day


C.A. MacConnell

Mouse Song

Suddenly, my small tail
becomes you.

I am one mouse
lost in a blue-lit mansion,
trapped in a crowded house
full of black
owls.

I live under the eyes
of spinning saucers.
Earlier, I checked.
The living room is theirs
too.

In the hall, wings beat
faster, harder, in rhythm,
like a metronome.
Cracks are safe.

Suddenly, I am quick
and sharp. Suddenly,
I am no longer

miniscule.
Easily, I hide within walls.

I am a genius at holes.

C.A. MacConnell

4/22/2015

Photos of the Day: Hawks Celebrating Earth.

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

 
My hawk friends celebrate the earth every day. I learn from them all the time. Love!
C.A. MacConnell

We Were Going Up

A while back, I was in the elevator at a clinic, and there was this dark-haired kid who soon joined me. He was in a wheel chair, and his mom was pushing him, tucking him into the last empty space in the back. She seemed nervous about brushing against people. Well, everyone was edgy as hell. Isn't that always true about elevators? There's some kind of unspoken "Don't touch me or I'll kill you" rule.

So the elevator was packed, which always makes me nervous, because I, for one, hate the idea of brushing up against someone. Man. It's not really the actual touch that's bad -- it's the anticipation of the possible touch that's bad. The terrible wait for the inevitable accidental shirt sleeve hitting my coat. Shiver.

Anyway, we were going up. Well, we were supposed to be. See, right after we were all set, and all of our correct buttons had been pressed by Suit Man, and we were packed in there like candy in a dish, this blond lady squished her body inside and yelled, "Can you press 'floor one' for me?"

Suit Man growled and pressed the button for her.

With that, the kid in the wheel chair shrugged, looked at Blond Lady right in the eye and said, "Fuck you." Then he started cracking up.

I laughed too. Shit, we all wanted to say it. He was just the only one brave enough to bust out with the choice words. We were jam packed, someone smelled like ass, the weather had been horrible, and for sure, no one was visiting the clinic for any reason that was remotely enjoyable, and here was this woman squeezing her ass on our ride, looking to go down, when we were going up. So yeah, we all wanted to say it.

The kid looked at her and said it again. "Fuck you." Then he really started howling.

I did too. My nose started running. I looked around. A few others had some muffled chuckles going on, but the kid and I were really letting loose.

Then the kid's mom said to him, "Stop it. That's not nice."

From his wheelchair, the kid shrugged again and stared up at me, beaming.

I held up my thumb at him, beaming back at my partner in crime.

When we finally made it to our floor, number four, the kid and I slid on into the waiting room at the same time.

Then I saw the back of his head. A thin scar, a bald patch, stretched from the crown of his head all the way to his neck. Either brain surgery or trauma, I wasn't sure. But what struck me was that there we were, seeing docs for whatever random issues (and obviously he had some serious issues going on), but in that moment in the elevator, none of the physical bullshit really mattered. Our separate lives didn't matter. Our separate problems didn't matter. What mattered was one brave jokester (ironically, the most physically impaired one there), and one shared laugh. Perhaps our laugh was at Blond Lady's expense but hell, sister, we were going up.

When I feel my gut, my heart, my soul tell me what's right, regardless of the crowd, I gotta leave a few behind, join people like this kid, and head for the laughter and the light. See, I want to live my life fully, love, and focus on my dreams, not stay stuck in my head. Change is all around me. Onward and upward,

C.A. MacConnell

4/21/2015

Photo of the Day: Lost Glove 23

Lost Glove 23
Are you feeling DEEEEEEEPPPPP now? haha.
C.A. MacConnell

Daily Meditation: All of the God Things

Here's one of my theories on humanity:  wherever or however people grow up, everyone on this planet seems to be pretty fucking goofy in some way, shape, or form. No offense if you're not goofy, but it's just my hunch. Clothes, makeup, long nails, missing finger -- those are all just exteriors. Just like stretched ears and tattoos are. Who cares. What was important to me this past week? Nature, family, support, laughter, love.

Everyone feels the highs and lows -- illness, abuse, trauma, great triumph, great loss, it's all there. Some never return from the sadness and the noise. Others choose to harness the strangeness and use it to help others, to change the world, to fill it up with joy. Sure, many people have a heavier dose of hardship, and I have no idea why it all gets passed around so randomly, but I'm continually reminded that I'm a lucky one.

Once, I saw a blind girl walking through the woods. In one hand, she held her cane. In the other hand, she held her elderly mother's hand; yes, that's right, the blind girl was helping her mother walk. Not the other way around. The humility present in this real, touching image completely overpowered me. I thought, I may have side effects and tough weeks, but I am alive. And I can see this. I am alive to know touch, both inside and out, and all of the god things. I am so in love with this.

A while back, I gave my time and blood to participate in a research study, so that I could help them find a cure for the illness that I have. From the gutter to the mansion and everywhere in between -- illness touches lives everywhere. No one is immune. And so I send out love and hope to all those suffering from any illness. Let us all work toward peace. Let us all take our pains and fears and turn them into a way to change the world.

I am a fan. I am a fan of many people, many artistic creations, and many things, but I see us all as pure energy, and our little souls can be amazing when directed with love. Each and every one of us has this gift. I am a fan of this.

Today, I ask myself this:  would I rather be right, or would I rather be happy? Would I rather win, or would I rather scream out hope? Would I rather hold a grudge, or would I rather have peace? It seems to me that no one's keeping score...



Happy, hope, peace. Love you,
C.A. MacConnell

4/20/2015

Photos of the Day: Pairs.



C.A. MacConnell

I Am on the Couch with You

A pale Child, I wondered about accidents.
One snow day, ice fell down,
killing a Girl I knew.
Her Dog barked his way home,
bringing the news
to the world.
She is there
now.

Everyone told me that god
was a Boy. I was sorry;
I believed in willows.
The branches, how they felt
like this or that
hair.
All around me, I saw holy
faces --
all the way across
the board.

Everywhere,
curious tones of light
drift
between handshakes,
knives, and high fives.
On the east or west side,
another shooting.
One gaze spills forth white
or black,
flowing into a crowded Room,
filling it forever.

Shakespeare knew this - in between
notes, true, mysterious sound is divine;
it passes through
You, Him, Her, We, Us,
a million stray Cats,
and the shit-faced Kids.
Here, someone hugs
Sister.

Sure,
energy captures the art of trading,
and some come back, but living
is not about returns.
Light cuts through,
stubborn and pressing.
I am on the couch with You,
wrapped.

C.A. MacConnell