Too close to home this time

"I suppose I do have one unembarrassed passion. I want to know how it feels to care about something passionately."
-Adaptation

While lost in thought driving this evening, I managed to notice three cars pass me at a stop light. In the evening light the drivers in each car reflected the faces of three women, all older than me; their faces were diffused but captured like photographs in different stages of ageing. They were alone in their vehicles.

At that moment I said to myself, women are by nature ill-fated (is that even a word?). We always outlive the men we choose. Men typcially have a shorter life span. I wondered as I waited for the light, if those women were widows.

The light changed, and my mind continued on the subject. Yeah, but we are survivors. We were built to outlast any trauma, any horror, any complication-- we must carry on the race. We can withstand the worst and will outlive our counterparts. This thought took me to my old residence. I stopped by to feed the last of the surviving pets--a female cat named Francis. Reuben was put down one week ago today.

After my dealings with Francis, I opted to visit Reuben in the backyard, a shallow grave was dug in a place I requested, hoping it would not be festooned with weeds come late fall. Unfortunately, it was gathering serious moss, and I bent down to pull the weeds from his final resting place.

His grave seemed bloated, as if his decaying body underneath had ballooned in size, and the only thing keeping him from scratching the surface were the heavy boulders placed on top to keep rodents away.

Much to my surprise, I wept and for a long time over his grave. It must have been a release of all thing that were buried with that cat and the dying relationship with one man..I don't know.

After I collected myself, I returned to the car, noticing my phone had a message.
It was rare for me to receive messages, and I chuckled to myself, finding it ironic that I left the phone for 10 minutes and, go figure, someone called.

It was my mom. Her voice was strange and distorted as she started. My immediate thought was that my great aunt of 86 was dead. I have been anticipating that call for a few months now. But instead, it WAS a death--only closer to home. My neighbor--our neighbor of 25+ years was dead. He was 67 years old.
My mother was sobbing on the line as I tried to make sense of the message, how did it what did it when did it, what about...I cannot believe it. Upon calling back, the only thing I recall is the choking, familial sound of my mother saying of Judy, the surviving widow, "... the hardest thing was saying goodbye to him..."

I think for my mom it was her first real jolt of mortality. And it scared the shit out of her.

Now, standing in my kitchen, I wait for pending autopsy news, funeral and wake announcements and consider how in the world I will soothe my parents as they recognize the fragility and fleeting-ness of their lives.

Life's lessons are hard. Glad the last few years have taught me coping mechanisims for the unimaginable because, it seems, that the unimaginable is here.

"This charming man", Adaptation and Kaufman

Punctured bicycle
On a hillside desolate
Will nature make a man of me yet ?

When in this charming car
This charming man

Why pamper life's complexity
When the leather runs smooth
On the passenger seat ?

I would go out tonight
But I haven't got a stitch to wear
This man said "it's gruesome
That someone so handsome should care"

Ah ! A jumped-up pantry boy
Who never knew his place
He said "return the ring"
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things



On my last day of vacation I am watching Adaptation again. Have not seen this is so long. I cannot believe how much this movie resonates with me.

And Charlie Kaufman...well, on a much smaller scale.
Think I will go back to the old house and pull weeds.

"Country Mile"

Silver Birch against a Swedish sky
The singer in the band made me want to cry
We’re all inside our own heads now
We are leaving new friends
We are leaving this town
I wish you could be here with me
I would show you off like a trophy
The road it winds, it twists, it turns, now my stomach burns

Once again I’ll be the foolish one
Thinking a blink of these lashes would make you come
Don’t you worry, don’t get in a state
I don’t believe in true love anyway
Who’s being pessimistic now?
I could document this as our first and our last row
The more you look forlorn, the more to you I warm

I won’t be seeing you for a long while
I hope it’s not as long as a country mile
I feel lost
Camera Obscura fm. Let's get out of this country

Been a strange few days for me. Must be the waxing moon that is making life twisted. I am trying to get myself back into work mode. Been pouring over articles and plays while organizing my room. I'm definitely not where I need to be. Fortunately, I have another week to prepare.

I am still bewildered by the opposite sex. I think I am destined to be alone. The worst for me is not having someone to say goodnight.

Music has been a sancutary for me. I spent gas money on 2 new albums, Camera Obscura and The Evangelicals. Lots of music coming to Bloomington, including Calixco in September.

Must get back to work. Hope you are well.

"April Come She Will"

April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain
May she will stay
Resting in my arms again
June she'll change her tune
In restless walks she'll prowl the night
July she will fly
And give no warning to her flight
August die she must
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold
September I remember
A love once new has now grown old

I spent some time with Reuben (see below) today. I have to take him in on Saturday. I hope I can be strong enough to do this. I will miss him.

bridge

I need a bridge in this city of rivers
I need a bridge to run across, my face wide open
and nothing holding back in my heart
It would be wide enough for two
It could be wide enough for you
on the other side.

I woke several times last night. And morning came too early.
It was the deadly combination of too much vodka, ongoing nightmares, and sleeping in a foreign bed that made for light sleep. Well, that and going to bed late and a little sad.
7:05a.m.
I was cold so I stumbled across the hardwood floor and put on my running garb and went for the door.
The Saturday morning was still, no bustle of workers out to beat the rush. Outside, the overcast sky and mist lay heavy on my lungs, I struggled to see the end of the street.

Being so close to the Monon, I was thankful that I didn't have to travel far to start my meditations.
Once on the pavement, my mind began to unravel the incessant talk. The Monon allows for endless mile after straight mile of release.
I pounded and felt my bones pop in their usual places as the concrete absorbed the blow of each footfall.

The first mile was for me being stupid and vulnerable.

The second mile was for building the wall around myself again.

The third mile was regaining my empowerment and not giving it away to those not worthy of me.

The fourth was for those who don't have the discipline or ability to do this.

I walked the rest, exhausted and purged.


Watched two movies tonight that made sense: Stepmom and Somethings Gotta Give.
Good stuff.
Strange, when you run into your ex-husband when you are both out of town and the chance meeting turns into 30 minutes of talking. It is friendly, comfortable, nice.

I am lonely. This is temporary. Don't make me feel this way...

A strong gust

This morning I was emotionally charged and knew the only way to work through it was to run. I made my way to the cinder, pine tree-lined track, breathing deeply through my belly, my head and heart full and ready to run.
And it was strange, I started to feel this pull. I was trapped between running like hell from my demons and yet frantically chasing my dreams. I was caught in this swirling, colorful tug-of-war within myself. The run was a three miler and I didn't feel anything for most of it. Still, I walked away relieved, drenched with sweat and possiblity.

Funny how being in a state of complacent calm and tranquility can be so easily upset---how kind words can easily disrupt my equilibrium. I am still reeling from the simplest of gestures and need to learn how to process them in a more balanced way. Kindness, I have found, doesn't come often enough to gage how I will consistently respond. I just know I never react the way I would like to..

One of these days I will figure it out.
Until then, I remain the same--waiting for the gust to blow me over.

kimono

Lilly in her new suit...

letting go...and then some

hi.
It has been a strange few days.
I took out a loan to pay off my lawyer, credit card and part of my school loan. All stuff I don't see-only feel.
Today I discussed putting my cat Reuben down. I think we will both go in to the vet. I can't imagine this will be a happy time. Strange that his life is dependent upon someone else's schedule. I am so sad, as I have had Reuben since I started teaching. He is about 15.
Today I have been utterly useless in the world. I returned library materials, made copies, checked my email and that is about it.

I want to go get my cat, but am afraid he will pee on everything.
And it's 95 degrees outside.

I started a grocery list, since I didn't want to forget anything. But have not been to the store in so long I need just about everything needed to start up housekeeping.

I have decided to go off the pill, as my pms has gotten progressively worse, and frankly, I have not had sex to make it worth my precautionary while.
Shit, I can put the ten dollars a month toward toilet paper and kleenex.

Hope you are fucking well.


Rain has finally hit Bloomington. I should not be on the computer--as it is an electrical storm. Bah!

I wanted to post some pictures of our new pets. We bought frogs today. She named hers "Superfrog" Mine is "Sigmond".





Also, some shots of coy and a family of geese at Oliver Winery. Enjoy.

"Too Many Names"

...It is so long, spring
which goes on all winter.
Time lost its shoes.
A year is four centuries...

fm. P. Neruda's "Too Many Names"

It has been cloudy here for an entire week. It reminds me of London, only much more humid and uncomfortable. I can't stand it.

I am listening to Bill Frisell: a banjo, guitar and bass trio called The Willies. Perfect for today.

Isn't it strange the moment you realize someone you thought would be fun to date turns out to be no-so-much? He sits across from me most mornings at SOMA. But I feel like we are always struggling for things to say. Never a good sign.
Another bad sign, he will talk to me when I am not with Lilly--if she is there, he ignores me. So, he will remain 'Tim' from the coffee shop.

I've been pouring over the trip itinerary for next year's Europe trip. I closed my eyes and could see it clearly. Italy is going to be new territory for me. That should be exciting. I am looking forward to Normandy as well.

The other day I slept for 12 hours. No reason-- just never woke up.
What is wrong with me?

fm. the good body

metal attraction

my sweet love

Candid Carolyn

mother-to-be Bec

Funny. Becky said, "I am not embarassed. Go ahead," When I took that shot.
I tried to tell her being pregnant was something to enjoy, as it will happen once, maybe twice in your lifetime.

She wasn't having it. Right now Becky was uncomfotable and felt huge.
She looked lovely.

I was never pregnant in the hot summer months. Well, the early stages of pregnancy--Mid July-August I didn't even know I was pregnant. In fact, I trained and did a tri-athalon while 1 month pregnant. No wonder Lilly is constantly moving.

Our pregnancies are worlds apart. But finally, I feel there is something I can share with my sister--motherhood.

I spent some time in the library today. Wasn't sure what I was looking for, really.
Plays--ideas for next season.

EVE ENSLER-- THE GOOD BODY...ok, saw the Vagina Monologues. Done too much at the university. They are trying to make a statement.
So I curled up at my local winebar (waiting on a friend who bailed on me) and read the entire play.
Decided I need to buy copies for my sisters and my mom.

It's a good book. Not even a play, really. YOU should read it.
ISBN # 0-375-50284-X

Must close--it is late.
Hope you are well. Ciao.

freedom ringing

lilly










Happy 4th of July. It looks like rain. I am home, eating lentil- potato curry and a mimosa. The ac has a way of making hot food in the summertime still appetizing.

I saw Richard Swift last night-well, I didn't see him as the posers were so thick there was no way to see him in the small space called Landlocked. I missed The Gentlemen Calling. Probably a good thing. Happy belated 38th--

"The Long Day Called Thursday"

Newly wakened, I recognized the day--
it was yesterday,
it was yesterday with another name,
it was a friend I knew to be lost
who came back to surprise me.
--P.N.

I went through the 'stuff' again today. Packed and unpacked it.
Separated it into piles: categories--people--places--lessons learned--mistakes and regret--memories and reminders.
And then I put it back in the drawer until next time.

Today was another 2-mile run with the above 'stuff'. And when I finished,
I filed it away. Walking back through the long, dew-laden grass I came back refreshed and happy.

The music flowed on my show today, and I caught up with an old friend afterward. He was making a tape for me of his show--the songs included things we shared, which I thought was sweet. I miss Paul quite a bit now.

Went Contra-dancing and had a great time. I am amazed at how dance--and more specifically--touch-- bring people together like nothing else. Life is good tonight.

almost perfect

hi.
an almost perfect day for me today.
woke up with my daughter kicking me in her twin bed,
dropped her at daycare,
coffee @ soma where I read 2 magazines cover to cover,
off to the YMCA for a run and lift,
swam at the pool and read for an hour,
radio station to review a cd,
2 mohitos at Gratzi,
picked up Rogue Wave 10:1 and walked Kirkwood,
made a fantastic pasta salad,
listening to whfb and it looks like rain.
I have talked to relatively no one.

These are the days..

I am sitting on my couch--windows open--as it is only 80 today.
ahhh. I hear the rain gently falling now....

Funny, I have this frequent image, it is an object (me) sinking to the bottom of what seems to be an aquarium or ocean. The object sways from side to side as it makes its downward descent to the bottom. I see it falling--an even, slow, almost calculated fall until it settles.

It is a metaphor for me. I am a weightless object, surrendering and finally finding the bottom to settle down. And it's ok.


Once on the bottom the image in my mind is myself, legs spread shoulder-width apart, as if claiming my territory.

I have spent so many years trying to catch up to where you are, feeling so far behind; dwarfed by your experiences and your knowledge. No longer do I feel that way.

While running today I was thinking about the tension of opposites. I don't feel that tension right now and therefore I feel good. So why do we keep searching for someone to complete us when we are already there?

Another person only muddies up the path. In my experiences I find I do so much to impress or win over the person and in the end, repeatedly, I lose them. Instead of the calm feeling I am seeking from someone else, I feel doubt, despair, rage, jealously, fear, unhappiness...Where is the good in that?

The best distance is arms reach. I have found no solace in any other person but myself.

And unfortunately, the memory of feeling the brief, euphoric feeling I thought was love was nothing at all to the other person.