Part 1.2

"
Animal Rights 10.1.07 Monday

I was at work yesterday and a woman in the store had a little white dog with her.  (People often bring their dogs with them -- it's no big deal to have them in the store.)  I really enjoy talking to people about their dogs.  They refer to them as members of their families, which is cute, I suppose.

Anyhow, this gal is walking around with her pooch, limp in her arms, browsing the merch.  I walk from the front of the store out the side door to the patio behind her and say "Ohh, what a cute little dog!" thinking she'd gush and swoon and give her little mutt a smooch or nuzzle.  She turns toward me, pup still in arm, and says "I'm sorry.  We don't use the 'D-word' in our house."

"

Musings: Setting Forth

"
1.7.08
At this precise moment I feel like I'm doing precisely what I'm supposed to be doing in such a way that my doing it is somehow precisely in accordance with the universe, the planets, the stars... precisely.

Sitting in my cozy room, lots of windows, fading yet brilliant late afternoon light, a cup of tea, Beethoven sonatas, and my journals.  This is it, right here, ladies and gentlemen.  This is ME.


Falling over, falling off.
Tipping over, tilting --
Slow motion, it hits the floor
and I am still
unwilling to accept a clumsy label
unknowing of motive behind
mishap,
after mishap,
after mishap --
I think it's vanished, a fluke, the moon,
but retaliation is futile,
Sticking, there in my mind to remind me
of my ineptitude, remind me
I am Human.

from 10.3.07 

Pangs of guilt and regret of years of wishing and waiting, nagging like your own shadow surprising you on a dark walkway under pale diffused light, leaving you jolted, embarrassed, and still alone, still -- 

Like your empty bed sitting cold in your cold room with little beetles burrowing between the sheets and they'll be there when you get home, having seen no one and talked to no one worth mentioning or worth the feelings of your absent heart.

from 10.15.07

"

Musings Overview

I found a very tiny faux Moleskine in a bucket on the bottom shelf of a bookcase.  It is filled with beautiful, breathtaking, completely insightful and wildly delicate drawings, words, ideas from late 2007-early 2008.

I was in college then.

I remember these tiny sketchbooks I kept.  At the time they were merely a dumping ground for all the gunk floating around in my brain at any given moment.  A place to purge.  Remove.  Record.  Repeat.

I never suspected I would encounter one years later and be fully swept away by its contents.

It is truly a gem.  Anyone who knows me knows this is not a sentiment I reserve for my own makings.  I am simply that struck.

Tiny, itty bitty portraits drawn with one of those stupidly fine Micron pens, ones I would inevitably end up throwing away because I pushed too hard ONE time and the tip was toast.  Face after face of fleeting, careful moments in the day-to-day existence of a 22-year-old college student whose life just seemed so. Hard. Always…

Microscopic doodlings of J so delicately exacting the most perfect mark with a razor blade on a sixty pound chunk of stone.

The wiry outline of a Volkswagon sitting across the street from the bus stop I grew to love and loathe.

A crisp rendition of a bottle of Crystal Geyser water perched on the edge of my workstation, embodying the soul of those moments when I realized I had no idea what the hell I was doing.  Wanting to crawl away and sleep.

Haiku after ridiculous haiku about nothing at all, like I am a small child first discovering he has legs, and deeply understanding the power such knowledge wields.

And writing, too.  Poetry, sense impressions, thoughts... I will post a few here, as I'd like to continue enjoying them over and over again, and maybe you will too.

XOXO