Saturday, December 11, 2010

Same Shit...

...different day.

I revisited the Apocalypse last night.
I rode on a train and watched the city freeze over. The streets peaked towards the sky - San Franciscolike. Cars were stuck on their upward climb and people were emerging from open doors to try and drag their bodies up the hill. It reminded me of the scene from Titanic where the floors are unnaturally vertical.
I watched as a woman tried to hold her daughters hand, but the grip slipped. The small girl fell and fell.
The train passed a Chevy Bronco. It's driver was slumped, dead, in his seat - glassy eyes staring straight at me.

I'm not positive what large change in my life is prompting a new wave of Apocalypse nightmares.
This time I'm confused.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

My Boys

I've been working on a series of poems inspired by the Apollo program.
Today I spent several hours (okay, five) reading through & listening to transcripts of the Apollo 11 mission. Almost every word they uttered was recorded for the world to hear.

I've selected my favorite moments. They show the astronauts quirkier/witty sides. They were such serious men you really have to hunt for these quotes - then savor them.

(Neil Armstrong, Mike Collins, and Buzz Aldrin)

Armstrong: I think today is also the birthday of California, and I believe they are 200 years old, and we send them a happy birthday. And I think it's Dr. Mueller's birthday also, and don't think he's that old.

Collins: Hope none of those meteors come by right now. God, look at that Moon!
Collins: Fantastic. Look back there behind us, sure looks like a gigantic crater; look at the mountains going around it. My gosh, they're monsters.
Collins: That's a horrible window. It's too bad we have to shoot through this one, but - Oh, boy, you could spend a lifetime just geologizing that one crater alone, you know that?
Collins : That's not how I'd like to spend my lifetime, but - picture that. Beautiful!
Aldrin: Yes, there's a big mother over here, too.
Collins : Come on now, Buzz, don't refer to them as big mothers. Give them some scientific name.

After Neil and Buzz boarded the Eagle to make their way to the moon -
Collins: You cats take it easy on the lunar surface. If I hear you huffing and puffing, I'm going to start bitching at you.

Aboard the Eagle before they began their descent -
Aldrin: Trade you that for a piece of gum. There it is.
Aldrin : What do you mean by bringing - bringing CSM trash in here?
Armstrong: Well, that's stuff I had left over in my pocket.

Back together on the Columbia, changing clothes-
Armstrong: You ready for your underwear? Mike - you ready for your underwear? You ready for your underwear?
Collins: Just a minute; yes.

Regarding a roll of tape -
Collins: Let's invent a new home for it because that old home is full of that smelly old urine bag. Collins: Okay, we need a new home for the tape. Anybody got any good suggestions?

Prior to Earth splashdown. Jim Lovell is making fun of all the moondust. Mice were waiting to test the toxicity of the dust -
Lovell: Please don't sneeze.
Collins: Yeah, keep the mice healthy.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Something to think about -

Studies show that a baby smiles 400 times a day. And children up to preschool age laugh about 300 times a day. As adults, we laugh just an average of 15 times a day, if it's an especially good day.

- Karen Salmansohn

Creepy giggling baby. The jerk's got 399 left in his day...

Saturday, October 16, 2010


She dreamed of him, the first time in three months. The unsettling realization that she'd forgotten the way shoulders curved upward on the words "life's been fine" or the way he breathed just a little bit slower than other people.
She woke, hand searching the emptiness next to her.
She didn't get to say bye, see you soon?
So she got morningready.
When she got to her car it had been broken into. Loose change stolen, radio and notebook of poetry untouched.

More than one person had invaded her personal space that night, uninvited.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Lyrics ofthe Day - for me

Let me go I'm only letting you down
I 've got nothing to say to you now
I lose the feelings that are weighing me down
When I'm safe

It's turning morning all the birds sing
I'm not complicating anything
I'll have another then I'll go to bed
But I'll dream of you

Cause it's almost over
And it's almost gone

And I can feel the sweet illusion, coming
Sweet confusion, honey
Sweet illusion coming down
And I ain't got nothing but love for you now

You and I used to shine like a jewel
But times been nothing to us but cruel
So play it out and never played the fool
Cause you'll lose every time

We were nothing, we were only the past
Hard times like that don't last
I've been forgiven, I've been surpassed
By my heart
Have you?

Cause it's almost over
Yeah it's almost gone

And I can feel the Sweet Illusion coming
Sweet Confusion, honey
Sweet Illusion coming down
And I ain't got nothing but love for you

Love for you I can't use
And lonely nights multiplied by the blues
That I can't resolve

You never knew me but I did my best
I'm just lonely inside I guess
You gave me everything you really tried

If we were nothing and we're only the past
Then I'm just living in a dream I guess
A long black dream that takes me down the river to you

Where it's almost over
And we're almost gone

And I can feel the Sweet Illusion coming
Sweet Confusion, honey
Sweet Illusion coming down

And I ain't got nothing but love for you now

Sweet Illusions
- Ryan Adams -


Tuesday, September 14, 2010


When I write you a love letter it's like I soaked a sponge in emotions and threw it at your face. I watch the liquid drip down. A drop clings to your chin before releasing itself and falling to the ground. I try to saturate you with my love.

Your love letter is on its way - better get a towel.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

My boys

My anxiety has been going into overdrive this past week so once a day I try to find one thing to make me happy.

Today I looked up quotes & transcripts of old Beatles interviews.
They are such cheeky buggers - it never gets old.

(love X4)

Press: How does it feel to be putting on the whole world?
Ringo: We enjoy it.
Paul: We aren't really putting you on.
George: Just a bit of it.
John: How does it feel to be put on?

Press: How do you feel about a nightclub called Arthur, named after your hair style?
George: I was proud--until I saw the nightclub.

Press: Does all the adulation from teenage girls affect you?
John: When I feel my head start to swell, I look at Ringo and know perfectly well we're not superman.

Press: Do you like topless bathing suits?
Ringo: We've been wearing them for years.

Press: Paul, you look like my son.
Paul: You don't look a bit like my mother.

Interview in Washington DC - 1964

Question: Here I am, surrounded by the Beatles, and I don't feel a thing. Fellas, how does it feel to be in the United States?
John: It's great.
Question: What do you like best about our country?
John: You!
Question: I'll take that under advisement. Do you have any plans to meet the Johnson girls?
John: No. We heard they didn't like our concerts.
Question: Are they coming to your performance tonight?
Paul: If they do, we'd really like to meet them.
Question: You and the snow came to Washington today. Which do you think will have the greater impact?
John: The snow will probably last longer.
Question: One final question. Have you ever heard of Walter Cronkite?
Paul: Nope.
John: NBC News, is he? Yeah, we know him.
Question: Thanks, fellas. By the way, it's CBS News.
George: I know, but I didn't want to say it as we're now on ABC.
Question: This is NBC, believe it or not.
John: And you're Walter?
Question: No, I'm Ed.
John: What's going on around here?
Question: What do you think of your reception in America so far?
John: It's been great.
Question: What struck you the most?
John: You!
Ringo: We already did that joke when we first came in.
George: Well, we're doing it again, squire!
Question: Why do you think you're so popular?
John: It must be the weather.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

The Search is Over

I was at a stop light today and happened to glance at the car next to me.

The man sat at his steering wheel, his eyes glazing over as he watched the red light.
One finger was shoved deep in a nostril digging feverishly. He kept at it for a good thirty seconds.

I glanced at the truck he was driving where the words "Fine Foods: Best Catch in Town" blazed in bold blue letters along with a cartoon salmon.

Apparently a fish wasn't the only thing he was hoping to catch that day...

Monday, August 23, 2010

Poem ofthe Day

By Billy Collins

You know the parlor trick.
wrap your arms around your own body
and from the back it looks like
someone is embracing you
her hands grasping your shirt
her fingernails teasing your neck
from the front it is another story
you never looked so alone
your crossed elbows and screwy grin
you could be waiting for a tailor
to fit you with a straight jacket
one that would hold you really tight.

Pure inspiration.

I came across an interview with this man on BBC.
His name is Kevin Connolly and he was born without legs.

After going through life with people staring down at him he turned the tables on the world above and aimed his camera upward. He created The Rolling Exhibition ( ) and traveled the world photographing men, women, and children all looking down at him.
Beautiful & poignant photography.
He also wrote a book, "Double-Take,"( ) .

It's been a long time since a story has gripped me by the throat this harshly .
To put it lightly: fucking fantastically amazing.

( )

Tuesday, July 27, 2010


No matter the work we put into ourselves

personal growth
inner enlightenment
trial n error
spiritual books
guide books

we are who we are. Maturity is an upward spiral where we continually return to the same patterns - although with hopefully larger space between.
De-ja-vue occurs just as often in relationships as it does walking down a supposedly unfamiliar street.

But that doesn't mean you should stop trying....

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Quote ofthe Day

Navin R. Johnson: The new phone book's here! The new phone book's here!

Harry: Boy, I wish I could get that excited about nothing.

Navin R. Johnson: Nothing? Are you kidding? Page 73 - Johnson, Navin R.! I'm somebody now! Millions of people look at this book everyday! This is the kind of spontaneous publicity - your name in print - that makes people. I'm in print! Things are going to start happening to me now.

- The Jerk -

Apocalypse (again)

They have started again - my recurring dreams of the apocalypse.
Last time I was having them (reference July 2009 ) I had a big change coming in my life, so it's no surprise they've started again.

A few weeks ago I watched a charred and smoking truck fall out of the sky, directly in front of my house. It's black metal skeleton sat fuming amidst a destroyed neighborhood background. I sat with my face against a window and counted people as they stumbled - burnt and crispy - from the car. I counted five of them, all leaving trails of smoke behind them as they staggered away.

Last night I stood crying in the middle of an abandoned freeway. The ground was covered in ash and it came to my knees. I was shouting at someone that my suitcase was empty, I was crying.
There was nobody to hear me.

The end of my world is coming....but I've been through this before.


Wow, this month is almost over and I haven't blogged once.

So that's why I wrote this.

PS -

There are still those moments in my life where I feel like one of the unpopular kids in High School. I find myself lifting my shoulders just a little higher and shrinking back just a little further into the shadows- what the hell is up with this? WHY is this still happening?
I'm generally confident, have always been stubborn in who I am, and proud of not giving into peer pressures, yet there I stand - hunched like Boo Radley behind the doorway - wondering why none of the cool kids are talking to me.

Shit's weak man.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Poem ofthe Day

Burnt Out
By Brad Johnson

I point out Orion's belt
but you've still got your gas station sunglasses on.
You're like a dead star whose light reaches us millennia after its
___final fizzle.
It's summer and Orion's a winter constellation anyway.

You've still got your gas station sunglasses on
and haven't said a word since I picked you up.
It's summer. I know Orion's a winter constellation
but I look for it whenever the night is clear.

You haven't said a word since I picked you up.
On the porch, a candle flame leaps from its wick in the
I looked for you whenever my nights were clear
and now you're here, lifting your leg, tugging your shorts from
___your crotch.

A candle flame on the porch leaps from its wick in the wind
and a star shoots through the sky like the lit match you toss into
before lifting your leg to tug your shorts out of your crotch
while claiming "If something's worth doing once, it's worth doing

A star shoots through the sky like the lit match you tossed into
We're both like dead stars whose light reaches earth millennia after they've
but maybe you're right. If it's worth doing once, it might be worth
___doing twice.
So I point out Orion's belt.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

On the Edge

Held above the motionless pool- at the end of a diving board. It was 3am and the moonlight felt like water as she begged not to be thrown in.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Full of it

More and more I find myself wanting to shout at people "you're full of shit"

I'm not exactly sure what this means.....
but it can't be good.

Hartelijk gefeliciteerd!

Today is June 12th - Anne Frank's birthday.
She would have been 81.

"It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. "

(Girlfriend you had talent. From one writer to another, happy birthday. )

Poem ofthe Day

So What
By Kim Addonizio

Guess what. If love is only chemistry-
phenylathylamine, that molecule
that dizzie up the brain’s back room, smoky
with hot bebop, it won’t be long until
a single worker’s mopping up the scuffed
and littered floor, whistling tunelessly,
each endorphin cooling like a snuffed
glass candle, the air stale with memory.
So what, you say; outside, a shadow lifts
a trumpet from its case, lifts it like an ingot
and scatters a few virtuosic riffs
toward the locked-down stores. You’ve quit
believing that there’s more, but you’re still stirred
enough to stop, and wait, listening hard.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

100th Blog Post: anniversary-style

This is my 100th post...
and today is the 75th Anniversary of Alcoholics Anonymous being founded.

So I'm taking up this pointless white space, on an ambiguous blog, in an abyss of internet chaos, to say thank you.

Tackling something like alcoholism was a ballsy move and I commend you, Bill & Bob, for having some big cojones. An estimated 2 million members is nothin to sneeze at

(Sunrise at Tahoe)

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.”

Monday, June 7, 2010

24 Things

I've Been Thinking About Lately
(The follower version)

1. My lack of recent writing
2. The pimple on my chin
3. Friends who are visiting from very far away
4. Jack Shepard
5. Early September
6. "deep roots are not reached by the frost"
7. My cats desire to escape out the window
8. A recent visit to the OBGYN
9. EH Shepard
10. Crumpled closure of friendship
11. World cup (World Cup world cup)
12. Being a teacher/professor/phony
13. A photo I saw of a bird smothered in oil.
14. A phone call from an "unavailable" number - who?
15. Positive thinking
16. You
17. June, on my Nuns Having Fun calender, shows them at a fair
18. A field I used to roll down as a child
19. Addictions
20. The five books next to my bed - each only 20pgs read
21. Guilt
22. Following something faceless
23. Forgotten passwords
24. Being old(er)

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Too late to say it

If your soul had a scent

it would be feces.


Warm weather is here.
& lust in the air causes the itchy eyes & runny noses.
Allergies were created to explain the untangible affects of desire

So breathe deep.

(Coney Island- Henri Cartier-Bresson)

Breathe deep
Warm weather is here
Your warm skin -

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Lyrics ofthe Day

Sweet Thing
Van Morrison

And I will stroll the merry way
And jump the hedges first
And I will drink the clear
Clean water for to quench my thirst
And I shall watch the ferry-boats
And they'll get high
On a bluer ocean
Against tomorrow's sky
And I will never grow so old again
And I will walk and talk
In gardens all wet with rain

Oh sweet thing, sweet thing
My, my, my, my, my sweet thing
And I shall drive my chariot
Down your streets and cry
'Hey, it's me, I'm dynamite
And I don't know why'
And you shall take me strongly
In your arms again
And I will not remember
That I even felt the pain.
We shall walk and talk
In gardens all misty and wet with rain
And I will never, never, never
Grow so old again.

Oh sweet thing, sweet thing
My, my, my, my, my sweet thing

And I will raise my hand up
Into the night time sky
And count the stars
That's shining in your eye
Just to dig it all an' not to wonder
That's just fine
And I'll be satisfied
Not to read in between the lines
And I will walk and talk
In gardens all wet with rain
And I will never, ever, ever, ever
Grow so old again.

Oh sweet thing, sweet thing
Sugar, baby with your champagne eyes
And your saint like smile

Sunday, April 25, 2010


Today is a good day.

To be

both the narrator & Tyler Durden

a rubik's cube that if solved re-scrambles itself

a birch tree shadow

standing at the equator, cliffside, looking up as the sun shifts above bringing nighttime to your past and a morning twenty seconds ahead

is to be you.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Poem ofthe Day

By Kim Addonizio

What happened, happened once. So now it’s best
in memory—an orange he sliced: the skin
unbroken, then the knife, the chilled wedge
lifted to my mouth, his mouth, the thin
membrane between us, the exquisite orange,
tongue, orange, my nakedness and his,
the way he pushed me up against the fridge—
Now I get to feel his hands again, the kiss
that didn’t last, but sent some neural twin
flashing wildly through the cortex. Love’s
merciless, the way it travels in
and keeps emitting light. Beside the stove
we ate an orange. And there were purple flowers
on the table. And we still had hours.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Life Philosophy

My goal:

(I'm trying to learn to live in the moment)

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

X-Ray Vision?

I had my tarot cards read in Krakow.

I'd never done anything like it before and to call me "skeptical", then and now, would be an understatement.

But I still get chills when I think about what I was told by this Englishman, a hostel employee who read through his handmade tarot cards by candlelight in the kitchen, voices from the hostel bar rattling off the walls.
White paper squares curled at the edges from use.
Crude little pen doodles.
A future that I could feel
A present that I know.

I still think about all of this, a lot
and at the time I wanted to laugh and shout "are you shitting me?"

I doubt I'll ever ask for my tarot cards to be read again. I would feel like I was cheating on Krakow, on this Englishman, and on the truth.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Exposure of a Stupid Secret

I love this quote by A.A. Milne so freakin' much I've contemplated having it tattooed on my body multiple times. I've never told anyone because I'm embarassed of the seeming juvenile-nature of the quote.

"Whatever fortune brings, don't be afraid of doing things."
It bugs me how much I love the quote because it sounds like it was written for a four year old with learning disabilities.
I guess maybe the simplicity resonates - taps into my ongoing problems with anxiety, shyness, and habit-for-excuses. I don't know. Just don't be surprised if someday this conversation occurs between us...
You: Come in the pool!
Me: Uhhmm okay but I'm keeping my shirt on.
You: Why?
Me: *silence*


I've sleeping more hours than I am awake

I've been lying more than I can take

& I've been faking things I shouldn't fake.

Yet I'm the happiest I've been in a longgg time -
what does this say about me?

I mean, really?

Monday, March 15, 2010

Lyrics ofthe Day

I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
I remember that time you told me, you said
Love is touching souls
Surely you touched mine
Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time

Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet.
I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed

Oh but you are in my blood you're my holy wine
You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet -

Joni Mitchell
. A Case of You .


Friday, March 12, 2010

Moment Held in Captivity.

I went to a zoo recently.

A tiger yawned.
A peacock fanned its feathers.
Two wolves howled at the cold blue sky.

All were something you wished would happen -
they did.

We are patient without even knowing it, aren't we?

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Holy babyface Batman!
George (14), John (16), & Paul (15)

I'm in love.

All over again.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Odd Habit

Lately I've been reading obituaries before I go to sleep.

I don't remember exactly when this began, or why.

I'll choose an obscure state (last night North Dakota) and spent almost an hour reading obituaries from a small town I've never heard of.
I haven't started to try and figure out what this means -

Quote ofthe Day

Now he is gone

as you are gone.

But he belongs to me like lost baggage.


Anne Sexton

“Letter Written During a January Northeaster"

The Way it Feels in Your Mouth

I'm standing in line for the bathroom. The bar is crowded and the line is long. A loud, deep, beat is shaking the scratched stall doors.
The girl behind me sloppily compliments my boots then starts listing off all the reasons why she hates how she looks tonight.
She mentions how all her good clothes got left behind in "the move". I ask where she moved from.

Oregon, she states while waving a hand in my face, The ring looks SO much better on a right hand don't you think?
I try to look at the big diamond that's scraping inches from my nose as she goes on to slur,
I broke up with my fiance and moved back home.

Before I can say anything three other girls wave their hands in the air holding papertowels, suds sliding down their wrists, shrieking Me too! I just broke up with my fiance too! My fiance and I just broke up. Me too!

My friend and I later wondered how many were telling the truth.

I've been prone to choose specific wording while talking to strangers in the past because I like the way I feel reflected back. I like the way the sentences feel coming out of me.

I'll tell a barista: My boyfriend wants his decaf.
When the woman next to me on a bus asks why I'm so tired: The man I'm sleeping with twitches at night.
The person in front of me at the post-office asks what the package is for: I'm sending my ex-husband his favorite tshirts cut up into little pieces.

A girl in the bathroom at a sweaty bar tells me her fiance just broke up with her: Oh my gawd, me too!

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Quote ofthe Day

"David and I met because he was performing in a play based on short stories I'd written. He was playing a character I had invented, which is somewhat telling. In desperate love, it's always like this, isn't it? In desperate love, we always invent the characters of our partners, demanding that they be what we need of them, and then feeling devastated when they refuse to perform the role we created in the first place."

Elizabeth Gilbert

Monday, February 15, 2010


I recently discussed nature vs. nurture with some of my friends who are currently teaching and/or studying to be teachers.
We came to no solid conclusion.

But let's just say as a baby I preferred to propel my small body around the floor of my childhood home upside down.
Using only my toes I would slide around our brown carpet on the top of my head, upside down, creating a distinct bald-spot, and earning myself the nickname "Scooter."
I've come to no solid conclusion
but I have my hunches...

(Me. Age 4. Post Watermelon Massacre.)

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

If This Trailers A'Rockin

Today I visited an RV sales lot.

A rainstorm had passed through and puddles were scattered across the parking lot reflecting shiny brand new RVs. Each one was a different size. Some were outrageously large (Only $47,899 Special *Scratch & Dent* Sale!) and some were smaller (Stores Comfortably in Your Garage!)

At first I was alone, wandering between towering white boxes, feeling like I'd stumbled into some cheap adult version of Legoland. Some of these Recreational Vehicles had their doors swung open, waiting patiently for a browser to stop and look inside and imagine themselves either cooking, sleeping, or sitting awkwardly on the 5inch deep couch that faces either a window, miniaturized sink, or a door leading to your toilet/shower/closet.

I climbed into one at the back of the parking lot. Its window was facing a nearby freeway - a scene I'm sure confuses a vehicle born to be tucked deep in the woods or somewhere in Death Valley.

Suddenly the RV shook and a salesman climbed aboard and started talking at me. Asking me how my day was going, glad the weather cleared up, yeah this one's got great sleeping space considering its size as long as you're not too tall har har har.....

The first thing that came to mind when he'd clambered up next to me wasn't the irritation of now needing to shake him loose, or even the claustrophobia I felt as he blocked the one exit from this wheeled tic-tac. It was the realization that if anyone even tried to have sex in this vehicle it would shake like a chihuahua in a snow storm. Isn't that the POINT of an RV? To have a private space to bump uglies that isn't a tent on a rock-covered forest floor? To possess a personal secret bubble of fornication possibilities? To wistfully look out your window (at an ocean not a freeway) AND be naked??
Any and all romantic notions I'd had about stealing away with a lover in a small RV were crushed like peanut shells under a circus elephant.

Then, the grayhaired salesman says this to me: "And you know, it sets up real easy and fast! You could be driving along, see somewhere you wanna stop for a quickie -"
He stumbled over his words, looked embarrassed, tried to recover by adding "A quick nap or sleep, you know?"

I could tell he hadn't meant it sexually,
I could tell he'd realized his verbal blunder and was mortified,
but I could also tell I wasn't the first person to have noted a vital flaw in this "Recreational" Vehicle.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

...figuratively, not literally.

I gave my favorite photograph of myself to someone who couldn't even see me.

I mean that...

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

It is a Little

known fact that I.....

... have seen While You Were Sleeping over 72 times
... took ice-skating lessons at Charles Schultz icerink and would see him drinking his morning coffee
... haven't finished reading a book in over six months
... have a nightmare at least once a week
... hate Nicholas Sparks yet almost always want to see his shitty shitty film adaptations
... suffer from memory-loss about significant moments in my life
... dislike most poetry and poets
... once pet a porcupine
... get scared very easily with the right amount of nighttime + scary stories
... have a crush on Tom Hanks.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Nature Lovin'

Today I needed to see snow.
So I did:

(I took this picture)

Also, this photograph of an owl is damn near perfection, don't you think? was having a bird photography competition which initially had me muttering "laaame" but then I stared at this for a solid three minutes.
I had to rethink my opinion on bird photography.

(I wish I took this picture)

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Monday, January 25, 2010

Months Ago

A breeze snatches at smoke that waterfalls from his nostrils.
She contemplates the burning tip of the cigarette - that dangerous thing whose beginning is already long gone.

Everything compressed, rolled into each other, has less than a minute left.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Poem ofthe Week

The Sudden Appearance of a Monster at a Window
By Lawrence Raab

Yes, his face really is so terrible
you cannot turn away. And only
that thin sheet of glass between you,
clouding with his breath.
Behind him: the dark scribbles of trees
in the orchard, where you walked alone
just an hour ago, after the storm had passed,
watching the water drip from the gnarled branches,
stepping carefully over the sodden fruit.
At any moment he could put his fist
right through that window. And on your side:
you could grab hold of this
letter opener, or even now try
very slowly to slide the revolver
out of the drawer of the desk in front of you.
But none of this will happen. And not because
you feel sorry for him, or detect
in his scarred face some helplessness
that shows in your own as compassion.
You will never know what he wanted,
what he might have done, since
this thing, of its own accord, turns away.
And because yours is a life in which
such a monster cannot figure for long,
you compose yourself, and return
to your letter about the storm, how it bent
the apple trees so low they dragged
on the ground, ruining the harvest.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Do You Ever

have those moments where you think "Geeez - I SUCK"

Yeah, me too.

I Worry

like it's going out of style there's only one left hanging on the sale rack and if I don't grab it I will have nothing to wear.

I worry about people like a turtle carries its shell.
Like cherries hug their pits Like bananas sleep in a peel
Like gravel gets stuck in tiny groove-mazes carpeting tires
Like jeans post-pushed in a pool become twenty pounds more & with every bend of a knee feels like your body is slowly turning to cement.

I worry about the people I care for more
than forest fires turn trees into chewed tobacco.
More than Marilyn Monroe wanted true love More than Joe DiMaggio tried to love her
More than indoor lighting gives moths window-bruised foreheads
More than a cat hates to be on a leash.

I worry about the people I love
As I'm falling asleep As I'm brushing my teeth As I'm making a right hand turn into my neighborhood & my blinker is ticking off every minute I haven't told this person or that person how much they mean to me & how I wouldn't be able to breathe if I lost them

As I'm walking from the kitchen into the front yard, a cup of lukewarm coffee in one hand, key to the mailbox in the other, wondering if maybe today I'll have a letter waiting from you, or wondering if tomorrow you'll wake up & realize you no longer want to know the sound of my laugh.

I've tried to get comfortable in this t-shirt of emotional discomfort, sleeves too tight on my shoulders, but I'm worried that if I DO get comfortable I'll forget how lucky I am to have people I love to the point of worrying
like it's going out of style.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Going Postal

I stood in line at the crowded holiday post office. I had three manila envelopes in my arms, all stuffed with application material: letters, transcripts, portfolio, etc.

The woman in front of me had four boxes wedged against her body - a bright red sweater bunched awkwardly around her waist exposing two inches of flesh. I couldn't stop staring.
She must have felt this because suddenly she turned around, caught sight of my envelopes, asked, "You mailing Christmas stuff too?"
I shook my head, explained I was trying to meet application deadlines.
She craned her neck in order to read one of the school names. "Oh," she said with a scoff, "you do not want to go there."
Obviously I do if I'm currently holding an application in my hand. But instead I just asked, why.
"The weather is miserable, you'd hate it."
I would?
Have we met?

This prompted the woman behind me to pipe in, "My nephew goes there and loves it!"
These women started discussing the school and I found myself no longer included in the conversation.

I've had countless people ask me where I'm applying then promptly inform me where I should or should not attend. They always have "solid evidence" to back up their statements - ie:
Their governor is an idiot.
I went there for vacation and they have the worst food imaginable.
Good luck finding a decent husband.

Complete strangers informing me what I will like.
These two women, strangers, felt the need to look at me and explain what is best for me.

I feel sorry for whoever is on the receiving end of their gift boxes and Christmas cards. I can only imagine what's written inside - "You are just going to love this!"


I'm losing you and its effortless.

- The Fray
Over My Head (Cable Car)