Making bundles of balloons out of white price tags
colored with pink and green, inked with wandering chicken feet
and bouquets of flowers and wise words:
Live
Rinse
Repeat
What good advice I gave myself when I drank until six AM
and pieced myself together enough to get to class by eight;
I boiled the eggs and bought the milk and la-dee-dahed the day away
unable to get it off my mind, even tried a nice salty float
but had a hard time --
she's weird about things in her ears --
and my mind kept going back to that stuff;
plagues every train of thought
every avenue of existing comfortably in my skin
and comes back every time
like it did back then when I used to drink a lot
and make things --
What is different? Have I changed?
I'm still me, pretty sure,
I have the same ailments, same mental emotional retardation
and latent anger I keep thinking is destructive a little
but GOD DAMMIT it feels good sometimes;
I drank some wine and that made it worse or maybe better
depending how you look at it,
maybe better like it used to make it,
but J. Chanandler Bing would say it's fucking awesome
'cause I think she wants to drink the wine with me too;
I feel in love and alive and level and clearer than I've been in a while
even though my dreams are nuts and grossly epic,
I still love when Bear ponders the emotions flitting across my face --
'cause there are thousands, just thousands of them --
because it lights up his and I love
when his face looks like that, so sweet and eager,
and damn that fucking charming beard.
August 29, 2011
The Question is Not
Which wine will go nicely with my food?
but rather
Which food will go nicely with my wine?
August 28, 2011
Did Anyone Else Cry?
I sure did. I started crying immediately upon seeing my nephew for the first time, in photograph. I sat with the feelings, the overwhelming rush, and let them quietly pass through me as I stared at his face for several minutes.
I haven't written poetry for anyone except my Boy in a long time. But yesterday, after pondering what Today meant and filing the images of the day away in my "The Day You Were Born" file, the words fell out of my pen almost accidentally and I slipped into a mad Flow sesh.
[Soon to follow.]
In the meantime, this day is impossibly more beautiful than yesterday.
It feels good to be an Aunt.
I haven't written poetry for anyone except my Boy in a long time. But yesterday, after pondering what Today meant and filing the images of the day away in my "The Day You Were Born" file, the words fell out of my pen almost accidentally and I slipped into a mad Flow sesh.
[Soon to follow.]
In the meantime, this day is impossibly more beautiful than yesterday.
It feels good to be an Aunt.
Aug 27 2:49 pm
D-Boe: It's a boy! 2:10 pm! The world will never be the same! Welcome, August Michael!
August 27, 2011
Aug 27 4:09 am
D-Boe: At the hospital, being processed. We'll start inducing this morning. Wish us luck! Go Team! Woot!
August 24, 2011
He Said You Can't Ever Shake Things Like That
The silence hangs thick,
a steaming cigar dangling
from the charred grey and grizzled portrait
of a man remembering fathers
dropping in his lap
without heads;
Dull, distant memories cloud
old harmonies,
stain the New with dust and ash,
prickle at the back of his neck
like it was yesterday.
August 22, 2011
Do They Arrest You If You Don't Show Up?
The room was hot, then cold, then too cold. My back started hurting not ten minutes into the thing and I wished I'd brought a better book. (The current one is starting to feel trite and cliche. I won't tell you which one because I don't have the energy to back myself up.)
I read a Cosmo.
I doodled.
I wrote some bad poetry.
It was also Teal Day but I didn't get the memo. Flaming, outrageous teal with bright obnoxious purses and over-processed hair.
I'm not sure I own anything teal, anyway. My wardrobe is getting blacker by the minute.
And I think I dislike people more and more each day. Not you, of course, but everybody else.
I did, however, enjoy wearing my fancy Banana "work" pants that I haven't worn since the last day of my last job. I thought I'd be busting out of them by now but it turns out they were looser than before (boo-yah). All my cheese eating, wine sipping, weekend bendering and chocolate gorging is paying off, it seems.
Oh wait! I stopped in on the girlies from my old job, too. I figured it'd be douchey to be right next door and not pop in . . . But not without trying to go undetected. I sneaked (I first typed "snuck" but the red line tells me it's not a word. "Snuck" really isn't a word? When did that happen??) in the back door and startled dear KT right out of her fantastic cobalt blue cardigan and black skinny pants.
MG and Ula are sooooo pregnant. They let me touch their bellies and gush at how pretty they are. I imagine they're probably tired of hearing about how big they're getting. Yeah? I have an entire person in my guts, lying in a hammock on top of my bladder? That's why I feel so huge?
The worst part of my day was probably when I thought I was about to go home but then got called for a last-minute late afternoon trial. No wait, that wasn't the worst part. Mildly disappointing, yes, but the worst worst part was when they crammed thirty something potential jurors into a very compact courtroom and then the man next to me start burping up his lunch and then blowing it on me. Six times I almost ralphed.
Damn right I counted.
He turned out to be really nice and I enjoyed the short blurb he gave about himself, but that does not excuse such behavior. I would rather not smell AND taste the contents of your stomach, hot and half digested, burning with acid.
I left after that, hot and headachy, and treated myself to a mini shopping spree where I spent a whopping $31 on clothes and got a brisk four-mile walk in. Oh, and I ate some sushi too. And bought more chocolate for my daily recommended dose.
I read a Cosmo.
I doodled.
I wrote some bad poetry.
It was also Teal Day but I didn't get the memo. Flaming, outrageous teal with bright obnoxious purses and over-processed hair.
I'm not sure I own anything teal, anyway. My wardrobe is getting blacker by the minute.
And I think I dislike people more and more each day. Not you, of course, but everybody else.
I did, however, enjoy wearing my fancy Banana "work" pants that I haven't worn since the last day of my last job. I thought I'd be busting out of them by now but it turns out they were looser than before (boo-yah). All my cheese eating, wine sipping, weekend bendering and chocolate gorging is paying off, it seems.
Oh wait! I stopped in on the girlies from my old job, too. I figured it'd be douchey to be right next door and not pop in . . . But not without trying to go undetected. I sneaked (I first typed "snuck" but the red line tells me it's not a word. "Snuck" really isn't a word? When did that happen??) in the back door and startled dear KT right out of her fantastic cobalt blue cardigan and black skinny pants.
MG and Ula are sooooo pregnant. They let me touch their bellies and gush at how pretty they are. I imagine they're probably tired of hearing about how big they're getting. Yeah? I have an entire person in my guts, lying in a hammock on top of my bladder? That's why I feel so huge?
The worst part of my day was probably when I thought I was about to go home but then got called for a last-minute late afternoon trial. No wait, that wasn't the worst part. Mildly disappointing, yes, but the worst worst part was when they crammed thirty something potential jurors into a very compact courtroom and then the man next to me start burping up his lunch and then blowing it on me. Six times I almost ralphed.
Damn right I counted.
He turned out to be really nice and I enjoyed the short blurb he gave about himself, but that does not excuse such behavior. I would rather not smell AND taste the contents of your stomach, hot and half digested, burning with acid.
I left after that, hot and headachy, and treated myself to a mini shopping spree where I spent a whopping $31 on clothes and got a brisk four-mile walk in. Oh, and I ate some sushi too. And bought more chocolate for my daily recommended dose.
Haiku From the Jury Room
Grizzled, worn, snarling,
the Jury Room Matriarch
rules with Iron Paw.
Oh Child, please stop
screeching. Snoring Woman is
darned near bad enough.
The florescent tee
makes his bald head glow orange.
Some new garb, perhaps.
I appreciate
the experience that's nigh;
but these chairs do suck.
I should have had my
chiropractor excuse me
from Jury Duty.
the Jury Room Matriarch
rules with Iron Paw.
Oh Child, please stop
screeching. Snoring Woman is
darned near bad enough.
The florescent tee
makes his bald head glow orange.
Some new garb, perhaps.
I appreciate
the experience that's nigh;
but these chairs do suck.
I should have had my
chiropractor excuse me
from Jury Duty.
August 21, 2011
Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta
a real gangsta-ass nigga plays his cards right
a real gangsta-ass nigga never runs his f***in mouth
'cause real gangsta-ass niggas don't start fights
And niggas always gotta high cap
'cause real gangsta-ass niggas don't start fights
And niggas always gotta high cap
showin' all his boys how he shot em
but real gangsta-ass niggas don't flex nuts
'cause real gangsta-ass niggas know they got em
'cause real gangsta-ass niggas know they got em
Probably Not A Good Idea
to ask non-friends to be friends on Facebook just so I can look at their photos.
...
Don't front. You think about it too.
August 17, 2011
August 14, 2011
Confession: I'm Not Just the Operator
Tart Grass Delight
1 bunch Wheat Grass
1/2 can chunked pineapple
Pulverize, let drain into a cup
Stir with spoon to mix
*Very energizing, so be careful
Mary's Twin Sister
Canned tomatoes
2 carrots
2 celery stalks
1/4 cuke
Pulverize, let drain into a big cup
Stir with spoon to mix
Add fat splash Tabasco
Dash salt
Dash pepper
*This one just about blew my nuts off
1 bunch Wheat Grass
1/2 can chunked pineapple
Pulverize, let drain into a cup
Stir with spoon to mix
*Very energizing, so be careful
Mary's Twin Sister
Canned tomatoes
2 carrots
2 celery stalks
1/4 cuke
Pulverize, let drain into a big cup
Stir with spoon to mix
Add fat splash Tabasco
Dash salt
Dash pepper
*This one just about blew my nuts off
August 13, 2011
My Mother Has Since Disowned Me
Mom: All I can say is this: First, she moves to Treehuggerville . . . Then lands a job with a biofuel company . . . And now THIS. Every Republican mother's nightmare . . . a juicer. A JUICER? That's bad enough, but WHEAT GRASS? There's the frosting on THAT heartbreak cake. Say it isn't so, Pea! What next? An effin' Smart Car?????
Me: If it's any consolation, both the juicer and the wheat grass are Will's . . . I'm just the operator.
Mom: Yes, but YOU allowed it in your domicile. GUILTY! And, you kiss the lips that DRINK wheat grass juice. Me? I'd rather eat puke cookies.
Me: If it's any consolation, both the juicer and the wheat grass are Will's . . . I'm just the operator.
Mom: Yes, but YOU allowed it in your domicile. GUILTY! And, you kiss the lips that DRINK wheat grass juice. Me? I'd rather eat puke cookies.
August 11, 2011
Yep. It's One of Those Nights.
Tonight's winners:
TJ's Sweet Basil Pesto smoked sausages, sugar snap peas, carrots, cuke, and Version II of Dill Dip.
Oh, and wine -- the most important part!
Cheers!
August 7, 2011
Revelations
In descending order of importance:
.Yes, I am a Master of spacial reasoning
.Improving my posture does ease my pain level
.English cucumbers are far superior than American cucumbers
.My hair looks infinitely better without a blow dryer and flat iron (can I get a Hell Yeah??)
.Yes, I am a Master of spacial reasoning
.Improving my posture does ease my pain level
.English cucumbers are far superior than American cucumbers
.My hair looks infinitely better without a blow dryer and flat iron (can I get a Hell Yeah??)
August 6, 2011
July Wrap-Up
It is disappointing when I discover, over and over again, that coffee and peanut butter are not compatible.
He bought me a piano for my birthday.
I couldn't believe what I was looking at.
I screamed.
Then cried.
Then went silent and quietly wept for many minutes.
He didn't know how to take such a reaction.
Neither did I.
Now that's all I want to do. It's all I think about. I curse this blessedly enchanting weather for the pressure it puts on me to be outside, and not inside playing the piano. I get to feel moved every day, moved beyond the place I thought my moveability stopped.
He calls that flow. I like that idea, flow. It's hard to find it in painting. It's there and always waiting, but hard to get to. But piano -- with piano flow is instantaneous.
Best lately things:
I daydream of more tattoos.
. . .
Oh yeah, I had a birthday.
Yay for being closer to 30!
(No, really.)
(No, really.)
I couldn't believe what I was looking at.
I screamed.
Then cried.
Then went silent and quietly wept for many minutes.
He didn't know how to take such a reaction.
Neither did I.
Now that's all I want to do. It's all I think about. I curse this blessedly enchanting weather for the pressure it puts on me to be outside, and not inside playing the piano. I get to feel moved every day, moved beyond the place I thought my moveability stopped.
He calls that flow. I like that idea, flow. It's hard to find it in painting. It's there and always waiting, but hard to get to. But piano -- with piano flow is instantaneous.
>>>>More piano
Less everything else
Best lately things:
the appeal of the aged radish
bye-bye hair
discovery: the Americano
super invention you think would be more wide-spread: ceramic travel mug (with lid)
"some things needs to feel accidental"
the process of "brain dumping"
"some things needs to feel accidental"
the process of "brain dumping"
Not-so-good lately things:
Road Rage (on my end, not theirs)
the causes of said Road Rage (on their end, not mine)
<see previous entry Of "All the Time & Things & Places">
85 degrees and hotter (YUGH)
getting back into a regular workout routine after the injuries (past progress = gone)
feeling a tad embarrassed when my hair dresser laughed at my DIY bangs
missing the sass from the gals at my old job . . .
flow
<see previous entry Of "All the Time & Things & Places">
85 degrees and hotter (YUGH)
getting back into a regular workout routine after the injuries (past progress = gone)
feeling a tad embarrassed when my hair dresser laughed at my DIY bangs
missing the sass from the gals at my old job . . .
flow
. to circulate around the body
. to move or progress freely as if in a stream
. to proceed or be produced continuously and effortlessly
. to be present in abundance
. a continuous stream
. natural happiness
I daydream of more tattoos.
. . .
August 5, 2011
My Foot is on Fire
And no, it's not the Athlete's Foot (because I do have my yearly outbreak... which still astounds me a little each time it happens).
I got mauled by a spider in my car the other day while I was hanging out chit-chatting with Brother. I felt a very intense and sudden itching sensation on the top of my foot. I began scratching like a maniac, only to perpetuate the stinging and burning and feel it spreading around my ankle, over my toes, under the arch. The eff?!
We parted. I started the car and began driving home but could not NOT reach down and scratch scratch scratch my foot -- It was freakin' ON FIRE.
I went home and immediately washed my foot with a gentle soap and warm water, thinking maybe I got caught up in a plant I'm allergic to.
It did nothing to alleviate the itch. The raging, raging itch.
It wasn't until the following day at work, when midday I could NOT STOP SCRATCHING MY FOOT, which made it worse and worse, so I tried to fake it and rub my sensitive paw across the edge of my desk or the heel of my good foot.
But to no avail. I finally bent over and examined it carefully, looking for something I might have missed. I flexed my foot, pointing the toe downward, and ah! There they were. Three tiny holes in three tiny mounds across the top. And upon further examination: one on the side of my big toe, one on the inner arch, and two on the back at the Achilles. OH FOR THE LOVE OF --
Spider bites. Most certainly spider bites, because mosquito bites do not hurt this badly nor burn as ferociously. And, the three tiny bites have since melded into one gigantic mound -- swollen, flat, hard, and EFFING ON FIRE.
So much fire that it woke me up in the middle of the night, begging me to scratch and itch and tear away at the searing lump.
I hate spiders. I didn't even get to see him. If I had I would have murdered him and not felt one bit sorry. If he got to bite me six times, then I should get to bite him six times and based on what I know about spiders, he wouldn't last very long. I have a really strong bite.
So I was lying there in bed, trying desperately not to scratch. I couldn't take it. I did what I could with some Pond's Cold Cream and a sock and eventually fell asleep, but this morning I awoke and it was just as, if not more, angry than the nighttime.
I stopped at Freddy's on my way to work this morning and bought a vat of Hydrocortisone Cream and some huge band-aids. I got to work without tearing my skin off and promptly dipped my foot in the cream, wrapped it in band-aids and crossed my fingers.
It lasted most of the day. Actually, a big portion of the day until about now when I was on my way home and it started burning itching searing ouching so badly I almost couldn't walk and almost couldn't make my bi-weekly trip into the Goodwill Superstore on my way home.
But I did. I made it. I was even rather patient waiting for the guys to dismantle the table I bought after fifteen minutes of trying to fit it into my car, only to realize it would never fit. Stupid narrow Volvo doors...
Now, I shall drink my daily dosage of wine and eat my daily smattering of random refrigerator things, tear the band-aids off this useless appendage and soak it in some ice water. JEEEZ that sounds good. Some cold water for the fire. Then I shall, once again, slather my poor paw in itch relief cream and wrap it in something to keep my fingers from edging onto it and scratching away.
Or, like Ma says, I can just cut it off. I mean, who needs it, anyway? They're like kidneys. We've got two of 'em for a reason.
Maybe? Anybody?
I got mauled by a spider in my car the other day while I was hanging out chit-chatting with Brother. I felt a very intense and sudden itching sensation on the top of my foot. I began scratching like a maniac, only to perpetuate the stinging and burning and feel it spreading around my ankle, over my toes, under the arch. The eff?!
We parted. I started the car and began driving home but could not NOT reach down and scratch scratch scratch my foot -- It was freakin' ON FIRE.
I went home and immediately washed my foot with a gentle soap and warm water, thinking maybe I got caught up in a plant I'm allergic to.
It did nothing to alleviate the itch. The raging, raging itch.
It wasn't until the following day at work, when midday I could NOT STOP SCRATCHING MY FOOT, which made it worse and worse, so I tried to fake it and rub my sensitive paw across the edge of my desk or the heel of my good foot.
But to no avail. I finally bent over and examined it carefully, looking for something I might have missed. I flexed my foot, pointing the toe downward, and ah! There they were. Three tiny holes in three tiny mounds across the top. And upon further examination: one on the side of my big toe, one on the inner arch, and two on the back at the Achilles. OH FOR THE LOVE OF --
Spider bites. Most certainly spider bites, because mosquito bites do not hurt this badly nor burn as ferociously. And, the three tiny bites have since melded into one gigantic mound -- swollen, flat, hard, and EFFING ON FIRE.
So much fire that it woke me up in the middle of the night, begging me to scratch and itch and tear away at the searing lump.
I hate spiders. I didn't even get to see him. If I had I would have murdered him and not felt one bit sorry. If he got to bite me six times, then I should get to bite him six times and based on what I know about spiders, he wouldn't last very long. I have a really strong bite.
So I was lying there in bed, trying desperately not to scratch. I couldn't take it. I did what I could with some Pond's Cold Cream and a sock and eventually fell asleep, but this morning I awoke and it was just as, if not more, angry than the nighttime.
I stopped at Freddy's on my way to work this morning and bought a vat of Hydrocortisone Cream and some huge band-aids. I got to work without tearing my skin off and promptly dipped my foot in the cream, wrapped it in band-aids and crossed my fingers.
It lasted most of the day. Actually, a big portion of the day until about now when I was on my way home and it started burning itching searing ouching so badly I almost couldn't walk and almost couldn't make my bi-weekly trip into the Goodwill Superstore on my way home.
But I did. I made it. I was even rather patient waiting for the guys to dismantle the table I bought after fifteen minutes of trying to fit it into my car, only to realize it would never fit. Stupid narrow Volvo doors...
Now, I shall drink my daily dosage of wine and eat my daily smattering of random refrigerator things, tear the band-aids off this useless appendage and soak it in some ice water. JEEEZ that sounds good. Some cold water for the fire. Then I shall, once again, slather my poor paw in itch relief cream and wrap it in something to keep my fingers from edging onto it and scratching away.
Or, like Ma says, I can just cut it off. I mean, who needs it, anyway? They're like kidneys. We've got two of 'em for a reason.
Maybe? Anybody?
August 4, 2011
Time To Be Serious About Happy
My coworker asked me the other day if I'm a vegetarian. I laughed. I'm a true Omnivore at its finest (and I'm convinced a Meat-O-Saur in a past life).
"No. Are you?"
"No. Just wondering. You always have lots of vegetables in the fridge."
I told him that I just really like vegetables, and my low blood sugar is more stable if I eat well. In truth, I was tickled he asked such a question. Not normally the type to ask people about life things. He nodded and agreed and busied himself further on his computer. And that was that.
Though I don't consider myself a health nut by any means. But, sometimes all I want to do in the whole entire world (times ten) is be in my kitchen and chop a bunch of vegetables and drink a glass of wine and munch on crisp tasty roughage and mix up a yummy Dill Dip and nibble on a polska and some hummus and get happy from the wine and the involvement of it all. That can be so deeply satisfying, there ends up being nothing else I really want out of my day. It's accomplishment.
And maybe it's mostly the wine, but I am perfectly okay with that. I tell you what, I can't think of a time when wine doesn't make me giddy and elated, and I am sure my friends who partake passionately in the vino feel the same way. I've started to question why I don't incorporate this into my daily life. Besides work, and, well, driving a car. But other than that, I think I need to take getting buzzed on a regular basis much more seriously.
"No. Are you?"
"No. Just wondering. You always have lots of vegetables in the fridge."
I told him that I just really like vegetables, and my low blood sugar is more stable if I eat well. In truth, I was tickled he asked such a question. Not normally the type to ask people about life things. He nodded and agreed and busied himself further on his computer. And that was that.
Though I don't consider myself a health nut by any means. But, sometimes all I want to do in the whole entire world (times ten) is be in my kitchen and chop a bunch of vegetables and drink a glass of wine and munch on crisp tasty roughage and mix up a yummy Dill Dip and nibble on a polska and some hummus and get happy from the wine and the involvement of it all. That can be so deeply satisfying, there ends up being nothing else I really want out of my day. It's accomplishment.
And maybe it's mostly the wine, but I am perfectly okay with that. I tell you what, I can't think of a time when wine doesn't make me giddy and elated, and I am sure my friends who partake passionately in the vino feel the same way. I've started to question why I don't incorporate this into my daily life. Besides work, and, well, driving a car. But other than that, I think I need to take getting buzzed on a regular basis much more seriously.
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