Pantoum

Through walls, voices of either love or conflict
She knew that’d be the last time seeing him
The snow globe collection is quickly losing water
That tea’s become tepid – better drink it soon

These voices murmur love, either that or conflict
Those 12 letters have gone unanswered
That tea’s getting tepid – better drink it
Cluster of leaves low to the ground, like colliding birds

Those 12 letters going unanswered, babe
Sometimes constellations get confused for jellyfish
Leaves swirl in the wind, feathered birds colliding
They argue for hours, garage door wearing thin

Sometimes, those night waves glow with jellyfish
A true understanding of why he was fed up
They argue for hours, garage doors wearing thin
My lover taught me how to separate the egg yolk

Understand, finally, that he was fed up
Snow globe collection evaporating, fast
My lover showed me how to separate the yolk
Through walls, voices of either love or of conflict.

Dirty Anger Bubble

I recently said this sentence to some friends: I sometimes get so angry for no reason - it's like I'm soaking in a bathtub of anger.

For the first twenty years or so of my life I coped with 98% of my emotions with tears.
The teacher tells me to stop talking during class? Go home and cry.
I get first chair in orchestra? Go home and cry.
Acceptance into the college I wanted? Cry.
Favorite necklace can't be fixed for 3 whole days? Cry in public.

However, somewhere in the past 4 years my brain changed. The knob that once was pointing at: sob uncontrollably is now pointing to: get engulfed with fury - then maybe cry for 30seconds. (This one goes to 11)

I used to pride myself in being able to identify A) what is bothering me in life and B) how I want to fix it and/or understand it better. Now I seem to get swallowed by a wave of furious emotions that come out of nowhere and threaten to drown me.

I've been going back and reading old journals, trying to tap into the old me. I'll even sit down sometimes and try to instigate a "good cry" like I used to indulge in. The best I get is deeper wrinkles around my eyes and mouth from sitting there with a scrunched up face.

Maybe I'll figure it out someday soon. Until then I'll sit in this bath until the water gets tepid - that'll for sure piss me off.

The word "lover" bums us both out

Reasons I'm like Liz Lemon:

1)She is brunette
2) Wears dark-rimmed glasses
3) Is a writer
4) Makes Star Wars allusions in day-to-day conversation
5) Dream man is an astronaut
6) Sits under a blanket at night eating cheese
7) Meat cat = Scout
8) Loves to dance, but does it awkwardly
9) Clueless about men
10) Junk closes up like Fort Knox
11) Talks about being on the toilet
12) Had bad mushroom haircut as a child
13) Hates feet
14) Subscribes to O Magazine
15) Wears a retainer to bed
......

(to be continued)

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.

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.
Enjoy!

(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.

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...

Invasion

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.