Here's are teaser clips from Erin Donley's show, Reveal What's Real: The Monogamy Episode! It will air next week, so get ready. In this show we discuss monogamy in the 21st century and what it means from a modern woman's standpoint.
Is monogamy natural?
Is it possible to sustain?
Why are men labeled cheaters in the media, when plenty of women have affairs?
How can we step into our power as women and bring this conversation alive so that the old paradigm can evolve into something truthful, authentic and revealing?
This hot and juicy episode will air locally on Portland Public Access Channel 11, and online on Reveal What's Real.
Years ago, after my divorce, I used to stay up late on weekdays unable to sleep due to anxiety and depression. On weekends I'd wear crazy costumes and rock out all night hoping something would save me from having to confront all my grief, my life undone, and my lost dreams. The night life grew weary, and ultimately boring.
Now, although heartache can still sneak it's way under my door, I find myself feeling (dare I say) happy. I'm enjoying my single-dom and although I look forward to meeting my life partner someday soon, I'm patient enough to enjoy the time I have right now. I would dare to say my life is composed. In bed by 10, I get up at 7am. I run. I meditate. I garden. I read and write. I stare out my window for long periods of time. My coaching clients are wonderful and bring me joy, and my writing clients are easy to work with. I know all the craziness is just inches from my grasp, and I fully intend on embracing the crazy again, but for now calmness is key.
Now, if I can only get my dog to quit snorting heroin and stop sneaking hookers in at a night through the back door. I can't blame her really, since she takes after her mother.
This past week I ran my first 5 mile trail run called the "Dirt Dash" with the X-Dogs. I've never had more fun running through the woods! I came in (drum roll) next -to-last! Which means I was not DFL (dead fucking last.) And only 32 minutes behind my friend Brad. That's not too shabby! The course was so muddy my shoe got sucked off at one point, but I remained steady. My recent yoga training came in very handy. Balance was key to not falling face first in the mud!
I also got an amazing invitation to spend a few days at a cabin in Government Camp. Can you even believe that there is a place in Oregon called Government Camp? Right next to ZigZag, Oregon?? Which is actually a city in Oregon. I mean really...what are the odds of my name being ZIgZag AND I live near ZigZag, Oregon. Come on....that's just fucking weird. I'm proof that God loves to play tricks.
I digress.
I spent 4 days up on Mt. Hood and it just happen to snow 30 inches! There is nothing more cleansing, more peaceful, and more calming than the falling snow. BEHOLD:
We almost missed the trail to Trillium Lake...
We blazed the trail!
Look at his mutant hands! ....you know what they say...
Daniel Flynn. Best Yoga Teacher EVAR! he even made me do yoga in the snow. Down dog will never be the same.
Rumi looks so tough. Don't mess with ma dog.
This has to be the most unsteady, choppy video I've ever made. But hey, the snow was yummy.
The Panda suit had a great time in Maui. As usual a Panda likes to be in quiet environments without too much distraction. However, I need to bust out the Panda suit in a crowd. The Giant Panda Guerrilla Dub Squad are coming to Portland and their show is literally within walking distance of my house. The Panda suit might have to make an appearance and boogie-down! Someone dare me.
And lest we forget: everyone should own a Panda suit. There is no better way to spread the love, than making other people smile. =)
April National Poetry Month
Speaking of smiling, April is National Poetry Month. My friend and worldwide amazing poet, Taylor Mali, announced on his blog that he will attempt a poem a day for the month of April. I'm going to take that challenge too. I'm not sure what kind of crap will come out of my knobby fingers but a few diamonds wil hopefully float to the top. After the month is over I will massage a few of them into masterpieces (or so I hope.) I'm taking a risk on this first one, and starting with love.
It's gonna be hard to top last year's New Year's Eve. This video proves it. BOC is an all day event on Januray 1st and was BY FAR one of the best 10+ hour long parties I've ever been to in my whole life. The only reason I'm not headed down to this year's BOC is because a) it's not outside on the water b) It's in a small club that doesn't really impress me and c) I want to bask in the memory of how great last year was without trying to trump it. This year I'm headed to Basquarade and staying local, which I'm totally stoked about.
#2
Gustav's Wear-No-Clothes Birthday Party
Gustav's awesome birthday party where I made an outfit out of caution tape.
Just a few weeks later I went to Gustav's amazing birthday party where he dared his guests to recycle things that normally are not clothing and make them into clothing for one night. It was awesome. We all got together at his art studio and then headed over to the bar next door to show off. People loved it! I have to admit this was one of my favorite birthday party experiences, although I was fucking cold! Caution tape is not made for timid.
#3
Jumping Double Dutch
Learning How to Jump Double Dutch again!
I've got to admit this brought me back to my roots growing up in the Bronx with the homies. I love double dutch! The best part was going to The Jump Rope Store and making my own! I highy reccomend going and making your own jump rope. This made me feel 10 years younger instantly!
#4
Tribal Convergence
My friends Jamaica and Nolus invited 25 people from Portland to meet 25 people from Denver. A very risky idea indeed. They called it the "Tribal Convergence". We spent four days together in a million dollar beach house having never met before, yet we were all friends almost instantly. It was a life changing experience. New friends, new love, dancing to new and old beats, and living our dreams. That, and the sexy facor on how many beautiful people you can cram into a million dollar house was off-the-hook.
#5
Campfire Songs with Micha and Leighton (CFSWML)
I can't begin to describe how amazing these two men are in person and on stage. If you ever get a chance to catch them you will not be dissapointed and you will never forget the experience. It's what being alive is all about. And the parking lot scene was crazzzy. ;) Watch out for shake down street.
#6
Larry Steiner's Infamous Birthday Party at Larryland
This is how I got invited to Larry's Birthday party: my ex-husband, whom I've wanted closure with for 6 years since the divorce, emails me to apologize for the past, talk things out, and tells me not to miss Larry's party. He says, "Trust me, you have nothing better you could possibly be doing than going to Larry's Birthday Party. It's infamous." With an invitation like that how could I say no? The party was fantastic. Local acoustic muscians, freaky friends from around the country, big love, good food, and insurmountable laughter. It was truly beautiful to be reunited with my ex, and it helped heal a lot of old wounds in a loving supportive, debaucherous environment.
#7
Writing One Blog Everyday for the Month of May (well almost everyday) Inspired by Leighton Kelly
Nothing feels sweeter than being recognized professionally for what you love to do. Tin House rocked my world in many ways. It scared the shit out of me and had me raise the bar of my own existence. I was overjoyed to know that I was not only accepted among my peers, but admired. I can't begin to express my gratitude for the teachers and coordinators that make Tin House possible. Top Notch!
#9
Best New Roommate EVA!
I can't possibly expresss how happy I am that Katie found me. My ad was for "The Ultimate Housemate Experience" and Katie has lived up to every word. That, and she doesn't care if I dress up in a space suit with duct-tape on my nipples. She's truly a gem and I'm honored to share a home with her.
#10
Festivals Galore! (and a totally free Burning Man!)
Picture this all on Christmas Eve Day: 1) I decorated the porch with Christmas lights 2) Bought a Christmas Tree (that the tree guy gave me for free!) 3) Went food shopping (don't ever go food shopping on Christmas Eve Day. Bad Bad Idea.) 4) Decorated the Tree 5) Then gathered with 16 of my closest friends. 6) We carpooled to Peacock Lane (Five blocks of lit up houses with pretty lights) 7) We walked up and down Peacock Lane with flasks of whiskey singing Christmas Carols and being obnoxious. 8) Then we rallied back to my house, made a super yummy dinner 9) We laid a bunch of futons down on the living room floor and 10) Watched A Christmas Story and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation back to back. Here is the video I made for my mom:
(Found this lost in a folder, wrote it last year.)
October 2009,
I sleep here. With my head in my hands clutching my head as if my hands will save my mind from expanding, as if my hands will clench my head so tight it will save my heart from breaking into my brain. I hold my head tight. Like a bad bowler that doesn’t know how to find the finger holes. Instead I hold the bowling bowl with both palms hoping that with this tight grip I can let go someday and roll my head into alignment. Somehow with this stance, I hope to break all the pins with a strike.
Sometimes it’s not just my head. I sleep with my arms wrapped around my soft body pretending I am two people and that I can satisfy the need in me to be loved. I hold onto myself for dear life. I pretend I am more than one of me. Perhaps I pretend I am my lovers holding me tight with my own arms, gripping my sides til I scratch with a need to feel real. I dig my nails into my skin remembering I am alive.
I want to use the word “rest,” instead of the word “sleep” because sleep implies a running away, whereas rest implies a completeness within me, but I am not resting. There is nothing resting about how I hold onto myself. I am running from something. I am running into myself over and over like some bumper car race looking for an exit in a square box with no escape hatch.
And just when I am bent on giving up, rest comes. But it comes from drink and drugs. I find no solace in being clean. The human form finds me writhing in “form without function.” I want to weep in my knowing that I cannot be the me that I long to be, but I can’t even cry because I find this state of mind pathetic. The me that has something to say, cannot speak and I’ve learned that although I am brave I can’t say what I want when the cards are on the table. I can only say what I want when the cards are stacked and ready to fall. Then, in total panic, I scream something inaudible and vague, hoping someone will interpret it leaving my responsibility out of the picture.
So I do the thing I do best. I let the numb come like a welcomed suitor that knows how to touch me. I welcome the night air and I drink alone because when I’m alone I can find things that are lost in loving too much, or not loving enough.
And I have the horrible feeling that I will be here for a while and will never figure it out. Oh how we want to figure something out. I know I do. I know I will probably never. And the horror that I will never know anything, never find rest alone and sober, scares me more than death.
Okay I'm out like Clout. I'm spinning like Flynn....and I'm glidin' like Clyde.... to the ALVORD Desert. Also known as the Steens Mountains. This is what happened during my last adventure. Stay tuned. I'll have all the gritty-nitty for you when I return on Tuesday. In the meantime Here's a poem I wrote about really good kisses....oh yeah baby!
Galactic Doorways (Revised)
Under ancient trees I wonder if you are me, or
if I am you?
I shift my body and gaze upward, the night
trees extend branches, strong and open
just like your arms.
I
search the sky connecting our souls in quiet commotion, remembering
that neither you, nor I are anything but dust. This dust is the
“us” I’m searching for. It sweeps in and out of constellations and
dances in galactic doorways.
Time stops here, there, as my eyes remain glued to the stars, and I learn, once again, to hold my
heart open, and let go.
It's the freedom that
takes me back to you, back to our thirsty mouths, wedged
together beneath the moon's hot rim, the night's last kiss sending
us under a net of
The last sentence in Robert Bly's poem, Early Morning in Your Room is: "When Robert Burton said he was melancholy, he meant he was home."
That is how I felt today. Melancholy and at home. Here is my make-up poem from yesterday which ends my 7 days in a row of writing one poem a day.
Choice Point
Some days I stare at brown eyed, tan boys and think about drinking their bodies. Some days I hate the thought of being naked. When I tell the truth, I say this: I love solid wrinkles and spiked gray hair and I miss seeing you in dark places. I wonder if you will follow me. The last time I wanted someone to love me I left town. I thought I was good enough alone. My fragile cabbage brain had no idea what to make of love. The empty roads were easier, and poker face was never my specialty. Some days I wish for second chances. I know the difference now, but I still love the game.
- mszigzag May 2010
ps - these pictures are from 2004 from a trip to Pacific City, Oregon:
Yesterday I got a call from my ex-boyfriend and forever best friend Jason asking me if I wanted to go to the Shpongle show at the Crystal Ballroom. I was like, "for realz?" and he was all, "You know it, yo!" So off we went. First he took me to the coolest little place: the driftwood room at The Deluxe Hotel. It's a bar in a small hotel that is so fucking sexy and cool that I shouldn't even mention it in this blog lest I reveal a secret weapon. It makes you at least 20% more sexy. I had a drink called the "Elizabeth Taylor" which is champagne and some fancy liqueur that tastes like violets and it makes the champagne purple. Then I did something I haven't done in about two months: I got drunk. Which is not so bad except that I have no tolerance having been on a cleanse for a while and didn't realize that a glass of wine plus a glass of champagne plus two beers can really make a little sober girl like me fucking drunkity-drunk with a capital UNK. Which was fun for about an hour or two. Luckily I remember most of it, except for the part where I threw my underwear on stage, lured the DJ over by flashing him my tits, and asked if I could lick his fingers. That part I don't remember.
"The problem of the mind cannot be solved on the level of the mind. Studying the mind may make you a good psychologist, but doing so won't take you beyond the mind, just as the study of madness isn't enough to create sanity. " - Eckhart Tolle
Ode to Madness: I saw my ex-husband last weekend during the Larryland Love Fest 2010. (And yeah, he looks great. I mean come on isn't he supposed to be fat and bald by now?) The reunion threw me for a loop, healed a bunch of wounds, and opened up some not-so-great places in my mind that I had long forgotten. But it was fun. We are friends. That's more than some people will have in their lives. I miss it. You know what I mean. I miss the thing that we had between us that only existed that one time during those few years. It's gone now, I can't make come back, but the memories are forever (as long as I don't get Alzheimers.) So it goes. But I have to admit this week I seem to be going mad with letting in and letting go. Let it in. Let it go. Let it in. Let it go. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Drunk on Drunk
It’s the dusty age of being halfway dead, midlife is nothing to drink about. I would eat a soldiers fortune in pills if it guaranteed to help me forget the time. At this point sobriety would surely kill me. It would put clarity in places that have no right to be clear. I want only to let my life leave through my lips. Kissing. Kissing. Kissing. My mother says I sound happy. I think of her decaying as she walks. I think of all those drunken I love you’s that are biting me in the ass, and just when I think masturbation will ease the sleeplessness I get too riled up to get satisfaction from a finger. My body begs for one more streamlined orgasm. Maybe I need a bowl of weed for later when everything wears off. Then my laughter takes me by surprise and I sit and bake inside cigarettes and water. I’m sure death is waiting for me to say something witty, I smile and trick it into following the wrong person.
