The phone rang…

December 7, 2010

Saturday

I tried not to cry on my own shoulder. Bursts of the resonance of the blackness of brokenheartedness would hit here and there, unexpectedly, slaying me momentarily.

There seems to be a push and pull between old and new, the old being destroyed before my eyes and the new not quite here yet. So I’m blind.

I ponder the concepts of my identity, my desires. Those of my fear, my pain. The soul, what it wants, what it loves, the body, what it runs away from or what it runs to all disheveled and needy.

To dance with pain is to look at life a certain way.

Melanie brought me along on an excursion into South Passadena. We found food, coffee and enough wild things to fulfill the quirkiest creative mind and provoke some wild dreamings. I could, for a moment forget my own little world and get out in the out-there as opposed to the in-here of my heart.

Sunday

Walking up Puddingstone street in light thin shoes I start to accept not to have IO anymore. To see the gift that he was and is. It still hurts, believe me, but Sunday I said out loud to the skies and the birds : I give you my pain, I trust. I let go. I accept this as another part of the adventure. There has to be some sort of redemption since there was death. Such is life on earth.

I love this bike like a best friend. IO was like an emissary from another world. He showed up bringing back dreams and making them come to life. He showed up and saved my life. Literally.

It stormed that night. Thunder, lightning, wind, rain. Lots of it. All night long.

Oh rain fall, fall. Come to the earth heavy and determined. Wash all traces of our passage left in the dirt by the sides of the roads we traveled. Come and wash my soul, quiet my mind. Let the hurt soak in the earth, drain, nourish.

Monday

The sun shines, the air is crisp. I spent the day translating to French the dedication of a Japanese rural doctor for his elderly patients. As the sun goes down I finally escape the flat LED screen and witness the glorious disappearance of the light of day. There is fire in the sky, the show is majestic, unhurried.

My feet walk up the hill, then down. There, I decide to continue to the Coffee Klatch where I’ll get my double espresso.

At the corner of Cataract and Arrow all the street lights are off. A police officer puts flares on the pavement. It’s pitch dark. I wonder how I will get across the street, the traffic is thick, it’s rush hour. The officer was coming my way, he steps up on the sidewalks and says to me :

“Be careful crossing.” there was genuine concern in his voice.

“Yeah, I was just wondering how I was going to do that”
He said :

“Let me help you across”

He shone a flashlight so the drivers could see us. A truck went flying by a couple of lanes over, glad I wasn’t in those lanes. He walked me through the intersection, I felt he really cared. I got across and thanked him warmly. I thought about this gross misconception about Americans. Americans really care, say whatever you like or think, they really do care deeply and they show it. There is a generosity and a love that I witness over and over. They will “do the right thing”. I feel so incredibly lucky to be here, in this country.

I get to the Klatch, walk in, order my espresso.

“You are Danielle?” said Holly the coffee house manager.

“Yes, how are you?” I had spoken to Holly about performing here a week ago, this morning I had shot a quick email her way to see if she had made a decision.

“What date would you like to come and play?”

I picked the 18th. I was pretty jazzed. I do want to play, I find that besides riding a motorcycle that is what I like the most in life. I find that it makes my life make sense when I play. I can give when I play….

I texted Forrest immediately : “Got booking 4 dec 18. R U free?”

I walked back home dreaming up stuff: I’ll have my amplifier… I got to figure out the sound system… make flyers… invite people… So cool to get two dates in a row in December….

“Beep! Beep!” It’s Melanie’s car.

“Aaaah! I’m so excited!” I tell her when I get in the car…

We get home, make an awesome dinner, I translate some more…

The phone rings. Hmm? No number shows up on the screen. I pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Sunny.”

She continues : “You know, you make quite an impression on people…”

“Hmm??”

“Remember when you played at Butlers?” Yes I do remember. A fun night, eclectic audience..

She reminds me of 2 people who were in the cafe that night, good friends of hers… Yes, I remember.

She explains how moved he was by the performance.
She says that he has a bike…
He can’t ride it…
did not sell it…
and… That he wants to give it to me.

“…..”

He wants to what? Sunny would not be pulling my leg… would she? No, not now…

“Thank you” and “I don’t know what to say” was about the scope of my vocabulary I kept repeating those words over and over. I’m kind of not grasping this. My head is reeling. Oh my God…

“It has an electrical outlet…
I think it has bags for travel…
it has a reputation for going far…
she says something about a bike like this going 600 thousand miles.. … Steve will send you photos tomorrow…

Oh my God.

….

OH MY GOD!!

….

!!!!OH MY GOD!!!!

There is a bit of a strange feeling of cheating on IO.

There’s a strange pull between happy and sad. here it is again : the old and the new face to face. Can I be happy? I was so sad…

There is a massive thought about the impossibility of it all. Can one be so lucky? Is this luck? What is this? But in all truth, at this point I don’t think this can be called luck anymore. I mean, go back on this blog and see the amount of freaking generosity, goodness, selflessness, pure magic. I am starting to think it is a mission… Yes, I must be on a mission, it’s so top secret I don’t really know about it myself and the Gods are interceding in my favor so I can accomplish it. I hope they are happy with me so far.

Whatever it is, I am so blown away, I am a bit nervous… it’s kind of like a blind date…

I kinda, would like to hope that we possibly, maybe would, could might, maybe fall in love this new machine and I.

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5 Responses to “The phone rang…”

  1. chris Says:

    I’m not surprised.

  2. Madeleine Says:

    C’est le 7 décembre :”Bon Anniversaire!”
    Une autre moto. c’est à peine croyable!!!!!
    Je t’ai envoyé le CD. Tu devrais le recevoir bientôt. Je vais maintenant aller pelleter, nous avons eu une grosse tempête hier, et il neige encore….
    Je t’embrasse bien fort.
    Mawiexxxxxx

  3. Asbjorn Melo Says:

    Hi Danielle!
    All things come together, don’t they. Awesome news about the bike and the shows!

    Sorry I can not be there today on your birthday. Have a great one.

    Warm thoughts from Brazil!
    Asbjorn

  4. David Walker Says:

    HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
    HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
    HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DANIELLE,
    HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

    How about that, I sang it to you in perfect pitch, ha ha ha, never in a million years but I have good intentions. I hope you have had a magnificent birthday and it sounds like it has been so!
    love,
    david

  5. linda kingston Says:

    hey danielle,
    I’m still here reading about your journey. sorry to hear about your bike, it has taken you on a wonderful trip. maybe it breaking down is a sign that you are where you are supposed to be, with so many wonderful people, the gigs your getting, JAY LENO! wow what a book this story would make.
    i wish you the best and oh yeah HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

    love ya,
    linda


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