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Hm. Poetry sits thick in fingertips that refuse to surrender what they're thinking. It's because I'm thinking that I cannot write. My fingers don't think and when I actually let them write they make up nice stuff. When I am doing the writing I make up garbage and sometimes I get confused--where did that come from? Where did the deep poems go?

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Thanksgiving: is over :(. Zak and I returned north with heavy hearts, leaving family behind in a house in a valley with streets I have known my entire life but it took moving away for me to realize I'd never grow tired of them. Of it. Of the places I know and walking/driving/go-going and running into everyone--into the constant Familiar (face, person, circumstance, location) that triggers memories--which are neither good nor bad are just memory--and are Home.

I miss. Home. And I just left yesterday morning.
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There's a new poem here for your perusal: Poem | Blog


Christmas is coming. The turkeys can relax. The goose begins to sweat.

My mouse can run on her wheel for two and a half hours before she has to stop,
which is surprising, considering that I never feed her.

Orinda Adventures

With my first Sunday off, Zak and I drove north to Orinda and visited St John's (Orthodox Church), which was a lovely Antiochian service that reminded me a little of St Athanasius in Santa Barbara (oh, how I miss thee :( ). Fr George was a very kind man, made us feel welcome and at home. I am falling in love with the Church again; after (how many? too many) months of irregular attendance, these free Sundays already have me settling back into the quiet space my heart's been longing for. Christian Community. Just the words make my core melt a little. It's like finding a new kind of home each time I cross another threshold. Hello, iconostasis. You are a breath of Serenity, to me.

After Church, Zak and I headed to Tilden National Park (straddles Berkeley and a couple other northward, Bay area places) to take a ride on...


A STEAM ENGINE RAILROAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mmmk it was a train with a bunch of children on it and we THOROUGHLY enjoyed the circling tour of trees. As the train wound through the national park, I couldn't help but grin. The conductor even said "ALLL ABOOOARD!"

It was just like Disneyland.

Only it was only $2.

And there weren't any princesses.

Except me.

Oh, and a 2yr old girl who was dressed up as Jasmine. I also made friends with a little boy wearing a frog backpack.

I couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend this Sunday. On to more great adventures!

Oh, and Zak and I visited THREE cafe/coffee shops for Perfect Cup. Check em out! :)

justhey

I work at a spa and listen to people get hair ripped off of their unmentionables all day long.

It's romantic, really, when a woman comes in with her boyfriend and he sits there happily flipping through Cosmo while she screams in the back room.


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In other news, I get a free facial today. Hurrah for spa!

AND I don't work Sundays anymore. Tomorrow's destination: Orinda.

NEW ADVENTURE!!!

The Perfect Cup: http://perfect-cup.blogspot.com

Zak and I have begun a new adventure.


We're looking for the perfect cup of coffee. And blogging about it. You're gonna wanna see it.

Follow us at http://perfect-cup.blogspot..com as we jump around, sampling brews and espressos, lattes and cappuccinos, in search: for the perfect cup, and the perfect coffee-house atmosphere.

Tomorrow I will have a blog for poetry. I suppose poems will no longer appear here?

That is probably mostly a lie.

go here for the poems: http://krobyn-poetry.blogspot.com


stay here for the life.

San Francisco

I keep forgetting I live in the Bay Area and pretend I am in SoCal with sunny skies and sea breezes, because here it is gray skies and freeways underneath my window while gulls circle overhead looking for some semblance of the ocean.

(which is here, somewhere, past the city, I am sure, but it's crowded by narrow streets and 45 degree hills and a giant blinking gold sign that points this way for Chocolate).

Today I am not a poet.
I will be a poet tomorrow.
Today I am a sleeper behind a fogged window on which I draw a heart and smile because it's cold outside, in the city, and my Home is miles away.

i used to write about toes but now i write about love
(which seems cliche) (but is it cliche when everyday
is new, to me?)

is it ordinary when every morning is a new opportunity
to be falling, unexpectedly, into, it?

and even if its something that happens to the (nearly) "Everyone"
it is significant--because it is happening, in the Every Day
to this Someone, to two Someones--to the extraordinary: him.

to the everyday, to the ordinary: me.

Nov-em-burr

On the first day of November, I considered picking a theme on which to write each day, but it is now the third and I have no theme.

Cousin Megan visited the past three days and let me say it was SO GOOD to be with family, even for so short a time.

Hi, San Francisco, I'm sorry we abused you, but I'd never RIDDEN a cable car and I REALLY wanted to go to the Disney Museum (which is only closed on Tuesdays--the only day we had) and I didn't MEAN to search for the Palace for two hours, only to wander around like a tourist taking pictures while craned-neck-gaping.

I apologize, SF, because I am not sorry for being a tourist. I got a free ride on the cable car and a $1.25 visit to SFMOMA and looked at a urinal signed by some contemporary artist and said, yes, I suppose he knew what he was doing but to me this looks like backyard junk, much like the poodles in a circle around a white baby and the painting of the Virgin via elephant dung.

But the see-through skybridge that lets you gape down four stories below your unsuspecting feet certainly made my heart race with--fear? terror? awe at human ingenuity?--all of these things. 

Tip: If you're visiting San Francisco, buy a City Pass, then when you're leaving the city early, make some local (me)'s day by donating the book with the leftover tickets. Free museums, free cable cars. Free San Francisco.

We ate our way through the city but it's okay because we walked for hours. Just like Disneyland.