Category: Public

Expose(d)

Lonna DeeLeave a comment

One day I became hesitant–truthfully afraid–to relieve the burden of smiling. Exposing my filth in a public vacuum of exclusively perfect existence ceased to feel liberating. The day that I finally admitted how this reality changed for me was the first and only day I drank and used until incapacitation, the only time I could not make it home…

The most dangerous aspect? The drugs…no, no, the drinking…wait, no, the strangers…uh, definitely the attempts…

Physically obvious. But only to me.

I put away my only protection from emotional isolation. Going months at a time over a span of two years seeing or speaking to very few would conceal my terror. Physical Isolation.

Two years of mentally isolated deterioration has rendered fear.

The drinking and drugs alleviated my fear. None who drink or use can feign the absence of fear: sometimes for reasons deeper than articulation, but usually for plain emptiness.

Strangers eliminate any need to acknowledge the existence of fear. Not being known without expectation of being known means not having to smile.

The attempts create the only way of never having to confront fear. When I am gone, the fear is gone.

Say Hello.

What happened to this person?: http://wp.me/s1cuyF-stare

 

 

Apply Yourself

Lonna DeeLeave a comment

I will heal, regenerate, restart and reload. Recently diagnosed with Bipolar II Disorder Manic Depression, my number-one-above-any-and-everything-won’t-jeopardize-for-anyone-(and-I-mean-that)-top priority is self-proclaimed, self-manifested, self-actualized and self-maintained JOY.  And my JOY is only brewed at home. No Starbucks, Caribou Coffee, or Seattle’s Best will have the recipe to brew my JOY and my recipe will not be for sale (although it will be enjoyed by all, free of charge). Coca-Cola will have nothing against my secret ingredient, but they will most certainly try. Although many will attempt, none will succeed at negotiating any mergers, and the only entity holding, buying, selling, and trading stocks will be: muah.

After years of living for everyone except myself, I finally reached my breaking point. Uncontrollable and heavy-laden sobs and sobs of tears was the only stamina I could manifest for expression, interaction and communication. I reached the bottom of the barrel and it was dangerously bleak. My emotions were relentlessly gnawing away at my internal strength and my thoughts were on a mission to terminate my existence. I persisted in an abusive relationship in exchange for something, anything that could detract and distract attention away from my own haunted infestations. Nearly two months after my exhausting and depleting three-year relationship ended, I could no longer hide from the ghosts in my mind. Confronting the demons that invaded and seized my mind, body, spirit, and most of all, my emotions was to date the most painful and heart-wrenching trauma I hope and pray to never re-visit again.

Emerging (victoriously!) from such a state, however, was also the most sublime transcendence I have ever achieved! To see!, think! and feel!, to clearly perceive the essence of my being, to seize control, to have control, and to cherish control over my hyper-sensitized, emotional reflexes created within me a born-again human being. Being in all its glory! Reborn, I choose JOY.

Hope Just Beyond the Horizon

Lonna DeeLeave a comment
Some things are beautiful and nothing else. Art is one of those things, that is, purity within art. I’ve gained another dimension of thought over the years and now I’ve come  to find that dimension practically useless. It’s the dimension of plenty, of too many rather, and it’s crowded. It’s where I thought I needed to be in order to think and to understand, but it turns out that there isn’t enough room, enough space to do so. There are no mirrors yet everything seems to represent and embody reflection. So my understanding of myself, of others, of existence, is distorted.
Just the other day I was playing a solo with the jazz ensemble at school. I hated it. But our professor, maybe you know him–Joseph Jennings? Saxophonist?–turned around and praised it. What for? I don’t really know. It was a bunch of jumbled notes that I really didn’t have control of. I couldn’t hear what I was playing. My hands were operating without my permission. But then someone else heard it and told me what it sounded like. For years, I’ve controlled what I played. And apparently the world thought I sounded pretty good. So I did too. And now that I’ve stopped controlling what I produce, now that I couldn’t control it even if I tried, I hate it. But this time, when someone says it sounds good, they’re talking to me. They’re talking about me. Not the music, me. Because the music isn’t separate from me anymore. Now, music doesn’t exist without me. I remember in NY after playing Bach on a recital, one girl, a cellist, came up to me following the concert and praised the correctness of “my” interpretation. I just thought, “this is a conversation you should be having with Johann. Because you’re not really talking to me.” And she wasn’t. Whether I performed that piece on that particular night or not, it would have existed and continued existing with all its accompanying praise without me.
I’m starting to understand the importance of Things. Things are coming alive inside of me. And I gotta tell you, its not that I ever put anything asleep. I just started taking notice of every Thing. I started critiquing and analyzing and adjusting. And doing that thing when you stop trusting yourself because your own mind and heart is playing tricks on you. I didn’t want to disappoint myself so I started with the lying. To everybody. But especially myself. And so Things became disproportionate to what they should have been and what they needed to be for me to survive. But I’m watching myself less and less. Understanding that I’m not meant to see myself the same way that everyone else does is liberating all those Things that I trapped and kept from living.
I still battle my emotions day in and day out. But I’m talking to someone about it now. I’m starting to let some Things out and other Things go that need to be over in my life. The good news is, I have found more and more moments of clarity recently. More than I have had in about four years.
So?

I Want to Be

Lonna DeeLeave a comment

Shon Thompson to me  12/3/10

Feeling trapped in a fearful world is the magic of life. Everybody feels it. The sense of wonder about how others perceive you is the other side of, how do you see your self. The amazing thing about who you are is that you’ll never know what effect that you have on the universe that you you create. Example, You spend hours writing something that ultimately does not satisfy you, then some one else calls it beautiful. Another, spending too much time in the mirror to put together an image that will be attractive only to be called a whore and admired by degenerates. The truth is, nobody can see themselves, no one has any idea what they look, or sound like. I’ll play something that I hate, just a thing that popped into my head, and then think, well fuck…that was terrible, and then my percussionist will say “wow, what was that, do it again 1,2,3,4…” The way he heard it was from a different world. Everything in life is like that. Your self image does not matter, at all, as long as you continue to grow. The labels that people assign are the only way that they have to try and find out who they (others) really are. They will never know until they give up on labeling. I love Charles Mingus too, Epitaph is my favorite but truly, Charles never even heard it because he wrote it. Miles hated playing with Charles, that knocks me out. If I cook you a plate of food it will taste different to me than for you because I know every ingredient that went into it, and you don’t. Consequently, I don’t enjoy my own food, but everybody else loves it. I cannot surprise myself, only others. Daddy wanted to name Booney, Yusef Lateef, but my mother wouldn’t let him. I leaned how to play Donna Lee years ago, but I can’t play it anymore. I’m not sure about how your renaming yourself has helped you. I don’t think it matters what you do, as long if it helps. I wouldn’t enjoy having a name that made me keep my chops up on a particular piece of work, but I would have to do it, that’s just me. “Oh, Donna Lee…huh?..well Donna Lee, go on ahead and bust it out.” Donna, we are all slaves to our emotions. The reason why a lot of people let it get the best of them is because of the great persona of “cool.” Cool, and style, even flash are important to people who want to be accepted. The bus to work was held up for almost a minute because the guy couldn’t board, his pants were sagging so much that he had complications making the steps. But he was fashionably cool. I was only late to work. About love, your description is the best I’ve heard. It hurts and heals, but it always changes you. When I play my music, nothing else matters for about two days. When I play again, I’m better at it.