My life is lived within
the grid of a calendar
the lines of a ToDo list
I get reminders about reminders about deadlines
I chant to myself "This is not a trap, this is a welcome constraint"
Practicing how to say "No" in the mirror
Resorting to text because my mouth is not trustworthy.
Never "One day.", so painfully vague
Always "Hmm, how about this week instead?"
I will meet you, I will visit, I will play and I will explore
Just not today, or tomorrow or this week.
Lets plan for next week, in two weeks or next April
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Momentary Blip
“Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.”
― Pablo Neruda
I go to collect Papa's ashes tomorrow. I will be blending them in with T's.
Funny, I just realized these are the last two men I've loved and one was a cat. Their memories now live in a house of absence I built and have maintained since childhood. Each room holding one set.
It is a beautiful house though.
― Pablo Neruda
I go to collect Papa's ashes tomorrow. I will be blending them in with T's.
Funny, I just realized these are the last two men I've loved and one was a cat. Their memories now live in a house of absence I built and have maintained since childhood. Each room holding one set.
It is a beautiful house though.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Sleepy Daydreamer
So you get poetry:
The History Of One Tough Motherfucker
he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and
terrorized
a white cross-eyed tailless cat
I took him in and fed him and he stayed
grew to trust me until a friend drove up the driveway
and ran him over
I took what was left to a vet who said,"not much
chance…give him these pills…his backbone
is crushed, but is was crushed before and somehow
mended, if he lives he'll never walk, look at
these x-rays, he's been shot, look here, the pellets
are still there…also, he once had a tail, somebody
cut it off…"
I took the cat back, it was a hot summer, one of the
hottest in decades, I put him on the bathroom
floor, gave him water and pills, he wouldn't eat, he
wouldn't touch the water, I dipped my finger into it
and wet his mouth and I talked to him, I didn't go any-
where, I put in a lot of bathroom time and talked to
him and gently touched him and he looked back at
me with those pale blue crossed eyes and as the days went
by he made his first move
dragging himself forward by his front legs
(the rear ones wouldn't work)
he made it to the litter box
crawled over and in,
it was like the trumpet of possible victory
blowing in that bathroom and into the city, I
related to that cat-I'd had it bad, not that
bad but bad enough
one morning he got up, stood up, fell back down and
just looked at me.
"you can make it," I said to him.
he kept trying, getting up falling down, finally
he walked a few steps, he was like a drunk, the
rear legs just didn't want to do it and he fell again, rested,
then got up.
you know the rest: now he's better than ever, cross-eyed
almost toothless, but the grace is back, and that look in
his eyes never left…
and now sometimes I'm interviewed, they want to hear about
life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed,
shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say,"look, look
at this!"
but they don't understand, they say something like,"you
say you've been influenced by Celine?"
"no," I hold the cat up,"by what happens, by
things like this, by this, by this!"
I shake the cat, hold him up in
the smoky and drunken light, he's relaxed he knows…
it's then that the interviews end
although I am proud sometimes when I see the pictures
later and there I am and there is the cat and we are photo-
graphed together.
he too knows it's bullshit but that somehow it all helps.
- Bukowski
The History Of One Tough Motherfucker
he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and
terrorized
a white cross-eyed tailless cat
I took him in and fed him and he stayed
grew to trust me until a friend drove up the driveway
and ran him over
I took what was left to a vet who said,"not much
chance…give him these pills…his backbone
is crushed, but is was crushed before and somehow
mended, if he lives he'll never walk, look at
these x-rays, he's been shot, look here, the pellets
are still there…also, he once had a tail, somebody
cut it off…"
I took the cat back, it was a hot summer, one of the
hottest in decades, I put him on the bathroom
floor, gave him water and pills, he wouldn't eat, he
wouldn't touch the water, I dipped my finger into it
and wet his mouth and I talked to him, I didn't go any-
where, I put in a lot of bathroom time and talked to
him and gently touched him and he looked back at
me with those pale blue crossed eyes and as the days went
by he made his first move
dragging himself forward by his front legs
(the rear ones wouldn't work)
he made it to the litter box
crawled over and in,
it was like the trumpet of possible victory
blowing in that bathroom and into the city, I
related to that cat-I'd had it bad, not that
bad but bad enough
one morning he got up, stood up, fell back down and
just looked at me.
"you can make it," I said to him.
he kept trying, getting up falling down, finally
he walked a few steps, he was like a drunk, the
rear legs just didn't want to do it and he fell again, rested,
then got up.
you know the rest: now he's better than ever, cross-eyed
almost toothless, but the grace is back, and that look in
his eyes never left…
and now sometimes I'm interviewed, they want to hear about
life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed,
shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say,"look, look
at this!"
but they don't understand, they say something like,"you
say you've been influenced by Celine?"
"no," I hold the cat up,"by what happens, by
things like this, by this, by this!"
I shake the cat, hold him up in
the smoky and drunken light, he's relaxed he knows…
it's then that the interviews end
although I am proud sometimes when I see the pictures
later and there I am and there is the cat and we are photo-
graphed together.
he too knows it's bullshit but that somehow it all helps.
- Bukowski
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Remembrances
I need to find Jillian Weise's new poetry book. Search it out of a dusty cavernous store with 3 cats and an owner who manages to disappear before you can ask a question. I want to trip over it shiny new in the dark gloom of forgotten tombs.
I want to rescue it.
I am tipsy gal. One beer in and shaved ice as dinner. I will sleep tonight, but the dreams have lost their prophecy. Good, I need time to me. I overbooked my world again.
Failure to say no.
I am still sleeping. No danger zone yet. How I love to skirt that edge though.
Cannot fall over
Cannot fall over
Cannot fall over
Poetry to prop me up and the reminder that somewhere, somehow there will always be a tomorrow even if it isn't for me or mine.
Always a tomorrow.
I want to rescue it.
I am tipsy gal. One beer in and shaved ice as dinner. I will sleep tonight, but the dreams have lost their prophecy. Good, I need time to me. I overbooked my world again.
Failure to say no.
I am still sleeping. No danger zone yet. How I love to skirt that edge though.
Cannot fall over
Cannot fall over
Cannot fall over
Poetry to prop me up and the reminder that somewhere, somehow there will always be a tomorrow even if it isn't for me or mine.
Always a tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Yellow, I call yellow
It's midnight and my throat is still fucked. I should be sleeping, snoring along with Zenhead crashed out on my floor. Obviously, I am not. I am still coming down from the day.
These last few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotion, drama and re-acclimating. I don't recall ever having such a delay in my full return before. Part of me is enjoying it. I am being more daring then typical. Part of me wonders if this is a chemical imbalance issue and I need to watch it closely.
Most of me thinks with the ups come the downs, and I need to remember to pace myself.
These last few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotion, drama and re-acclimating. I don't recall ever having such a delay in my full return before. Part of me is enjoying it. I am being more daring then typical. Part of me wonders if this is a chemical imbalance issue and I need to watch it closely.
Most of me thinks with the ups come the downs, and I need to remember to pace myself.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Finding Mental Footing
I just returned from Black Rock City yesterday. Part of me is still in BRC mode. I am trying to fit back into my normal patterns, but I don't conform as well yet. Need more time or maybe the patterns just need to change. This will be something to evaluate, when I can formulate more coherent thoughts.
The hardest part of coming back from a week plus in the desert is reining in that spread of freedom. I need to meet goals and deadlines again. I need to get back into the mindset of keeping my reactions and desires under my skin instead of letting them come forth and be.
I need to settle back into my skin. Put the TAC mindset back in her box and re-make the boundaries that allow me to express myself as needed, but not to the point of overwhelming myself or others.
Should have left the phone in the box till today...TAC mind was too prevalent previously and I bounced right into a danger zone. Hopefully, it is okay now. No harm no foul, right? Keeping fingers crossed and trying to avoid checking my email too much.
I got to work on my patterns. Things have changed. I blame the bass. It thrums right through me, rattling open boxes I thought locked, I thought dead, I thought lost. So much is coming to the surface for me to sift through. What can I review, what can I rebox and what do I need to reincorporate?
Overwhelming at this point. I have a quick sketch on what I need to ponder, so I will slowly begin the internal inventory & evaluation within the next week.
It is nice though, to have tender places to push again.
The hardest part of coming back from a week plus in the desert is reining in that spread of freedom. I need to meet goals and deadlines again. I need to get back into the mindset of keeping my reactions and desires under my skin instead of letting them come forth and be.
I need to settle back into my skin. Put the TAC mindset back in her box and re-make the boundaries that allow me to express myself as needed, but not to the point of overwhelming myself or others.
Should have left the phone in the box till today...TAC mind was too prevalent previously and I bounced right into a danger zone. Hopefully, it is okay now. No harm no foul, right? Keeping fingers crossed and trying to avoid checking my email too much.
I got to work on my patterns. Things have changed. I blame the bass. It thrums right through me, rattling open boxes I thought locked, I thought dead, I thought lost. So much is coming to the surface for me to sift through. What can I review, what can I rebox and what do I need to reincorporate?
Overwhelming at this point. I have a quick sketch on what I need to ponder, so I will slowly begin the internal inventory & evaluation within the next week.
It is nice though, to have tender places to push again.
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