somewhere in northern Indiana

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Prince of Denmark

I am sitting in the dark in my quiet apartment. The only sound is the lull of the dryer- the rains are coming, and I am waiting patiently to run naked in the parking lot until someone takes me away.

I endured the Springer Family reunion way up in Hoagland Indiana--8 miles from Ohio--somewhere on the endless stretch of highway 69. I counted the crosses along the roadway and decided while driving that most people probably took their lives out of the boredom that comes from driving this particular bit of asphalt. I also noticed after driving several undisturbed miles that the white lines down the center of the lane were crooked. I don't know how long I drove before realizing that I was driving 80 and, indeed, other cars were next to me.

I think part of the reason for the unaccounted for time on the road was due to being lost in thought. I was hurt by my father's thoughtless public remarks at the reunion--to which I came out of duty to the family name, not because I cared to speak to these people.
I also took my daughter, as it was my weekend, but also because I knew she would be the one people would like to see--not me.

As introductions were given, my father followed his elder brother, Neil. That is always difficult, as those two have the worst sibling rivalry I have ever seen--even at 67 and 65 years old--but after the torch was passed, my father proceeded to introduce his family, the 3 girls, all happily married, but Dan wasn't with us today. I smiled remembering my part playing the always pleasant, never challenging, lawyer's daughter, the anger seething--burning in my breast while the others continued proudly sharing their family joys to all, leaving the skeletons locked tightly away in the closet. The words became static--and I used the always present excuse of my daughter's potty training for my hasty exit out of the hall.

I was not sure I heard him correctly. After all, he was the one I finally called to break the news months ago. Mother would just cry and tell me to try harder.

I didn't confront him. Today was his birthday, and the thought of being put on trial was the last thing I needed before the long drive back with my 2-year old.

Upon arriving home and checking the always dreaded mailbox-- the bank decided to leave 10 overdue draft notices. I just bought toilet paper and kleenex--and won't be buying much more until my next check arrives. I am at a complete loss.

These past few chapters of my life wouldn't be so bad if I had something--anything going for me. But at this moment, I just can't see it. I am just trying to be true. How does one accomplish this without any allies?

Ahhh--the lightening is starting up. I am hoping I can catch one of those lovely strokes of heat and disappear from here today.

Breakage, whatever its cause, is the dark complement to the act of making; the one implies the other. The thing that is broken has particular authority over the act of change.
-L.Gluck

I sigh heavy today.
I have not felt like writing--for several reasons:

*the heaviness of the divorce has been painful and awful,
the emotions run the gammet and most days I am drained and lifeless.

*I feel uncomfortable writing candidly in this space now, for fear words will be found, read, passed on and somehow misinterpreted, or worse, used in a court of law. I am angry that people cannot be trusted, that they see others as weak, try to manipulate or use them when they appear to be in a vulnerable position or state.

*I have lost my sense of empowerment that has helped me get through tough times. I have drifted and need to regain my strength.

* I just killed an enormous wasplike creature. Threw one of my divorce books from four feet and killed it. Then got out the toilet bowl cleaner and doused it, just to make sure it was really dead. I am developing a serious phobia of bugs.

I have read several books cover to cover in the past three days. Feels ok to read--but the sadness takes its place and I cry again.

Breakage, whatever its cause, is the fark complement to the act
of making; the one implies the other. The thing that is broken has particular
authority over the act of change.
-L.Gluck

I sigh heavy today.
I have not felt like writing--for several reasons:

*the heaviness of the divorce has been painful and awful,
the emotions run the gammet and most days I am drained and lifeless.

*I feel uncomfortable writing candidly in this space now, for fear words will be found, read, passed on and somehow misinterpreted, or worse, used in a court of law. I am angry that people cannot be trusted, that they see others as weak, try to manipulate or use them when they appear to be in a vulnerable position or state.

*I have lost my sense of empowerment that has helped me get through tough times. I have drifted and need to regain my strength.

* I just killed an enormous wasplike creature. Threw one of my divorce books from four feet and killed it. Then got out the toilet bowl cleaner and doused it, just to make sure it was really dead. I am developing a serious phobia of bugs.

I have read several books cover to cover in the past three days. Feels ok to read--but the sadness takes its place and I cry again.

Member of the Wedding

I used to love weddings. The pomp, the purity, the ritual.
Not this time. My first wedding alone, I went to my room before the music started.

Got home Sunday evening and while walking Kirkwood, I found THESE GUYS:




Matt and Nick Romy

a few students I have worked with in the theatre. Rogers and Rogers is the name of their band. I doubt you can see it, but Addison (snare drum) made a bass drum out of an old leather suitcase. Ahh, summer on Kirkwood.

Chrome and Steel

all of a sudden
the girl of my dreams
she never asks
she always screams...

Into the sunset (3 shades of blue)

do you see her face
in a puddle at my feet
as i bend down
to kiss the street
and i'll come runnin' to her
and i'll come runnin' to her

Abe

her sleep is troubled
her face will twitch
she wakes up angry
and i'm bewitched
her smile is forced
she's always late
but she's not sorry
and i capitulate
and i'll come runnin' to her
and i'll come runnin' to her

charles c deam wilderness

steve

all of a sudden
the girl of my dreams
she never asks
she always screams

Indiana University through a 92 degree lense.

Photobucket was not cooperating tonight, so I had to download these one at a time. It took forever. I enjoyed walking through sections of campus today-even if it was so hot you could fry an egg...
The steam heat was rising, leaving a haze everywhere I went.

The rain and cooler temps are on their way. My wind chime is going wild outside, telling me it won't be long. I love when the wind changes, bringing on the electrical storms. From my apartment, I can watch it brewing. The spiders are skittering all along the cement--like crabs on the sandy beaches come high tide. They know it's coming. Did I mention I am terrified of spiders?


my favorite trees



The Bell Tower

Beta Well House

Inside Beta Well House

Maxwell Hall, 1851

tired bones

Two Roads diverged...

"fouse!"

me and my birks

Sycamore in Black and White

There were many more, but I just don't have the patience tonight to download them all. It was a glorious day to photograph! Which are your favs? Enjoy.

2000 miles

He's gone,
2000 miles,
Is very far.
The snows falling down.
It's colder day by day.
I miss you.
The children were singing,
He'll be back at Christmas time.

Listened to that today in the studio and wept like a baby.
Along with one close to home, Back on the Chain Gang.

It is official. I am going to see Willie Nelson at the Vogue for $100 in about 3 weeks, so I will survive. Hopefully The Green Cards will open for him. Their Weather and Water release is nice. Very nice.

I also got the Campbell Brothers Can you feel it gospel-funk soul album and a special pirated copy of Old Crow Medicine Show from my friends at Tracks. Looking fwd to a listen.

I was reminded that school is starting in three weeks. Ha ha. That is funny. I laughed in the faces of both people who reminded me-- My dear friend Pat, who has to return to the school of doom as well as a phd candidate getting his degree in secondary education (schmarmy schmarmy blah blah blah..) I asked him if he had worked in pubic education. He had, in several states.
"So why did you decided to go into higher ed?" I asked.

"I didn't like the administration at any of the schools."
"Huh."

There were several other unmentionable dealbreakers in my very brief conversation with Mr. G, but good fodder for a short story, of that I am sure.
I urged him to return home quickly to work on his 'formal treatise' and not to commiserate with the likes of the the simple-minded--me.

How many more of these types of meetings must one encounter?
Just goes hand-in-hand with my personal soul journey, I guess.

Fortunately, there was wine and cheese-its awaiting me at home--and my laptop. ahhh--sanctuary!

Bashio, and Sunday additions

Lead my pony
across this wide moor to where
the cuckoo sings

(Post- Silk Road thoughts on a 100 degree Sunday:)

I ordered carry out from a student whom I had a terrible run-in this spring (along with her intollerable mother) and was concerned that she would tamper with my order. I was even more concerned when the Turkish cook came outside to talk to me while my order was being assembled--she was the only other person in the air-condintionless place. The order was wrong--of course-- and I worry that what I ate will have me puking my guts out in a few hours. I still tipped her a dollar.

A few minutes later, since Cinemat was closed, I entered a mainstream videostore and was greeted by another old student. This one went way back. I don't know how I remembered his name as I must have taught him back in the early 90's. He was kind, polite and congenial; we shared talks of Tim Burton and other directors. I always worried about Bart and-- thankfully-- still see him on occasion around town. A sweet person-- the kind others prey upon.

Two very different transactions within minutes of each other. If we only knew what kind of impression we left on others. Perhaps we would act differently.


I played some songs for past friends on the radio. I know they didn't hear them, but did it anyway. I wish I understood how forgiveness worked-well, at least for other people. I unfortunately don't think it exists for many.
It's hard to be a friend from a distance. Show me the way.

I am half-way through City Of Lights by Lauren Belfer.
Have two movies for tonight: This So-Called Disaster and The Stepford Wives (remake).

I can't seem to make it through Sunday, still.

Lilly's day out

mama and baby bear outside MCPL




a jiffy treat

One of my favorite things to do with my daughter is to take her walking down Kirkwood. We visit with the Bears, go to the library and her favorite part, get ice cream with sprinkles at Jiffy Treat.

Last Sunday (when these photos were taken) we stopped off at the Cinemat to return a video. The store was closed, as it was too early, but outside was Steve V (tall Steve) with two young boys. One was Japanese, the other Indian. Steve was teaching them to play Chess. Lilly and I joined the table (I have always wanted to learn chess). So there we were, under the shade of a large maple on a sweltering day in July. Steve, who appears to be English, the blonde-blue eyed German girls, a beautiful Indian boy with silky black hair, perfect olive skin and the most lovely brown eyes I have ever seen, and a young lad from Japan enjoying each other's company. It was a vivid memory for me.

Windfall and Limestone

Now and then it keeps you running
It never seems to die
The trail's spent with fear
Not enough living on the outside
Never seem to get far enough
Staying in between the lines
Hold on to what you can
Waiting for the end
Not knowing when


Trying to make it far enough, to the next time zone
Few and far between past the midnight hour
Never feel alone, you're really not alone...
Switching it over to AM
Searching for a truer sound
Can't recall the call letters
Steel guitar and settle down
Catching an all-night station somewhere in Louisiana
It sounds like 1963, but for now it sounds like heaven

May the wind take your troubles away
May the wind take your troubles away
Both feet on the floor, two hands on the wheel,
May the wind take your troubles away

Lilly and the elmo couch

OK, I know I am her mom and all, but my daughter is the cutest, most outgoing and sweetest little person I have ever met. If this be love, I know now what it must feel like. My Lilly is amazing.

Also, more music I picked up yesterday (mostly older stuff):

Gillian Welch: Soul Journey 2003
Beck: Guero 2005 and Mellow Gold (1994)
Luna: Bewitched 1994
Son Volt: Trace 1995

I saw Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and loved it. I don't care what any critic says, I thought it was well done--the spectacle was brilliant. Johnny Depp (who hails from Kentucky) had quite a task and he performed beautifully. Go see it.

Also, I just finished Watership Down
and up next, Jean de Florette.

I ate at a fairly new restaurant in town--Turkish--called Anatolia and got to spend some time with perhaps the owner--a fine specimen of a man. Unfortunately, I didn't get his name. Can this be true? All the more reason to return to his delightful restaurant. Ahh....

And I will have the answer to this idea/rhetorical question come Friday: "Men fall in love with an actual woman. Women fall in love with their idea of a man." As if you had to ask this question...
If you know anything about women or men you know the answer as well. But it seems the world needs studies and proof to back their answer--and so I will find the truth and will share my findings.

Touche. Good night.

Tides of the Moon

TO WHOM I CAN BELONG MORE THAN ONCE

I can tell you how it rains on a summer day
and make you feel it fall on your window pane--
I--your woman, a poet--have such powers.

I can make you unbolt your door, wait for me
when I say I have finished my day’s work, I need rest--
I -- your woman, a poet -- a thousand miles apart.

I can give you heaven on an average day, even
when I talk to you about the life that doesn’t love us--
I -- your woman, a poet -- calm you in your nights.

I can write for you alone, on a wordless universe
and make you feel my god, to whom I can belong more than once--
I -- your woman, a poet -- can make you immortal with a song.

Lekshmy Sujathan Kerala, India 2003

that one's for you, Blue.

Finally, a break in the rain, if only briefly. I woke early to bright blinds and faint sunshine, refreshed and smiling. The lull of summer has taken root and I am contented with unstructured activities. Still, something in me longs for productivity. I slip back into evil thought patterns of guilt and self deprication when I consider a day, or a long stretch of days, doing absolutely nothing.

I spent quite a bit of time thinking about my show for this week, and although most of the listening audience had no idea, I was happy with the songs--not so much the delivery on my end. Only a few technical glitches and dead air, but good music.
I sometimes fantasize that someone will call in and start a dialogue similar to Minnie Driver and John Cusack in Grosse Point Blank. Wishful Thinking.

The summer has been full of music and movies for me, but little else. I have tabled the idea of meeting someone to spend time, at least for awhile. I'm still trying to repair an old wound--it just seems to split open just when I think I am healed. It will be easier come the first of August, I hope.

It's funny what you fail to recognize about yourself. It's important to have others to point out the positives, especially if you tend to dismiss good qualities as quirky or insignificant.
Two examples:
After visiting a fossil store with my sister, upon leaving my sister said to me,

"That guy was totally checking you out!" She blurted, pushing me out the door.

"What guy?"

"The one you were talking to about the petrified wood. Didn't you notice? You had a conversation with him. He was watching you the entire time we were in the store."

"..Um...was there a guy in the store?"

"Oh my God, Catharine, you are hopeless."

Hopeless? Maybe. Oblivious, yes.

Example 2:

I recently got back in touch with a fellow teacher from Alabama that I met on the Japan trip last summer. I was missing the country and its kind people--since we were over there on July 4th I was reminded again how much I felt at home there.

John's words were soothing and smart, thoughtful, articulate and kind, just as I remebered them to be a year prior. Again, he reminded me of things about myself that I tend to gloss over. A short excerpt from his recent email read:
You remain one of the most genuine, spontaneous, and honest people I have met in a long life spent in a lot of places, and you are one of the select few who instantly
spring to my mind as the epitome of the spirit of the trip.

I recently read (I am embarassed to tell the source--but let's just say it was YMCA material..) that the best present you can give to a woman is your undivided attention. I don't know many men in my past that were willing or able to do that. But John's emails to me were more attentive than any man I have encountered in the past four years--easily. So thanks John.

New Music that is pretty good (a real mix of stuff here...):
Daniel Lanois-Belledonna
Erin McGeown--We've become like birds
STARS- set yourself on fire
Feist -let it die
Moaners- dark snack
Odawas-Aether Eater
String Cheese Incident- One Step Closer
Bruce Springstein- Dogs and Devils
The Hold Steady (don't know the album title)
Willie Nelson: Countrymen
and a new album that I cannot rememer the artist but the album is called
Iron Flowers.

Movies I have recently seen:

Chopin: love and passion
The Station Agent
Flaming Lips: Fearless Freaks
Being Julia
Zelig (woody allen)
Alice (woody allen)
The Life Aquatic

Hoping to see:
ENRON: the smartest guys in the room
Willie Nelson at the Vogue


That's all for now. Ciao.