Notes from Nana-g

Early in the Year Ramblings...

2008-01-08T04:14:00.000-08:00

I am up at work, that is why my new year goal is balance. I am constantly putting out fires and getting the actual work done is difficult. If I was the waitress in the pie shop I would be baking the 'I hate my job pie', lots of spicy peppers, Jack cheese, stir in whipped eggs and bake at 375 for an hour...serve with fresh fruit.
While I am catching up on news, since I have not posted forever; I received possibly, if not the worst Christmas gift ever given, the scale. Maybe it should be capital? The Scale, or all caps? THE SCALE. Maybe bold and underlined, really that's more like it. My dear Aunt gave me the largest scale in the world. It is causing some eating disorders in my grown kids. Every time they get in the bathroom they weigh themselves and then I have to hear about how much they weigh, or a comment regarding how much they weigh - all of the kids. Oh really, it is every adult that visits. It is because the scale is so large that you have to step on it to get to the toilet. Or my bathroom is so small you have the choice of stepping in the shower, or on THE SCALE or leap over THE SCALE and go to toilet...
Several years ago I had a free range guinea hog (he passed the pig status at about 2 years old) and for 11 years he lived primarily in the bathroom. Everyone who visited would talk to Homer while they were in the bathroom. Seriously, everyone. It was quite funny really and I thought I would write a book, "Conversations with the Pig". Anyway, the scale, or THE SCALE reminds me of this habit people have of talking out loud to unusual objects in bathrooms, or maybe it is just my family/friends, or my unusual objects in my bathroom...
THE SCALE truly delights me and makes me laugh every time I think about it. She must have seen pictures of me at our last family reunion and thinks by the size of the scale, I seriously need to lose weight! OR! I just thought of the significance of my goal of balance for the new year, and receiving a scale, THE SCALE! Sometimes the universe is not subtle, and God has a funny sense of humor.
Happy New Year.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream

2007-11-24T13:10:00.000-08:00

Today, my oldest son is going to the funeral of a friend he has known from high school. There are things I wish I could save my children from experiencing. The tragic ending of a friend being one of them.

20 years next year I was the same age when I lost my best friend, her husband and their two darling babies. The weekend before, Kate and I sat in front of the corner market, in my car nursing our babies while her just a bit more than baby daughter (2year old) slept in her car seat. Life was perfect: warm summer night, conversations with an old friend, sliver moon and all the stars on display. Babies suckling as we caught up on all of the happenings of our older boys, our husbands, families. It was one of those quintessential evenings to be remembered a life time.

That's the thing about sudden death, you never know you are the only one going to be remembering. You may say goodbye, but you never mean it for the rest of your life. I wanted my tragic death stories, my mom when I was 15, my friends, my love to be enough. I have experienced the death, therefore my kids get to live without the fear of the phone call in the middle of the night. The knowledge that one moment in time, however long it was, has to be enough, enough mothering to get you by raising your children, grandchildren; enough love, enough laughter...

If one person has to bear tragedy, why should anyone else? Who indeed wants to be in 'the loser' club? Life is precious, no guarantees -
Here is to you Collin.

November

2007-11-21T14:26:00.000-08:00

It is on toward the really great part of November, the giving of thanks:
1.) My kids
2.) My grandkids
3.) My friends
4.) My extended and extensive family
5.) My dog
6.) My retainer that lets me walk
7.) The ability to walk
8.) The ability to laugh
9.) My coastal life
10.) My breitenbush life
All inclusive, the ability to love, all the to be verbs. Happy Thanksgiving, may you be with the people you love, in the place you want to be - and He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has." ~ Epictetus ~

Courage

2007-11-14T14:16:00.000-08:00

Courage is a fluid thing, nothing that is confined by a set ideology. Treating others well, loving kindness, it is all a walking work, in the moment and continual. I was writing about a partner in my Anais Nin quotes, but as I re-read it I thought really, life is about courage, and the courage to be transparent. To feel, to be - all those Shakespearean belief system, to be or not to be, it is truly the question. Are you in or are you out? And maybe not anything that concretely black or white...

The older I get the more questions I have. I only know, those truths - it is how you act with old people and kids, dogs and those beings more helpless than yourself. There is your true self. Who are you when you are by yourself, left to your own devices?

Aristotle's Brother

2007-11-12T16:09:00.001-08:00

Here is to you,
The brilliant, the hilarious, the lover, the friend.
Here is to you. My moment, my passion, my missive, my breath.
Today is the official 4th year of your passing. The explosion of a comet.
I am here, looking upward at the sky, to see a path, a light,a glimmer of the past.
I am here. If I pause, if I falter, if I weep - it is only in reflection.
Truth is found over the heads of people in a crowd. Truth is found in the profound crinkle of your eyes. Truth is found, without words in your scent left in my pillow.
Here is to me, the lone survivor, keeper of the memory of us.
Here is to me.

Toast to the change of time

2007-11-07T19:50:00.000-08:00

I spent the fall back hours deep in the forest, fire blazing in the cabin, door of the wood stove open. There was wine flowing and music, oh the music! Dancing, wild dancing of sheer joy was spontaneously started by like-minded friends. New friends and old friends meeting up and hitting it off. Savored, savory bit of time.

Autumn, feels like winter to me

2007-10-29T18:58:00.000-07:00

It is the end of October, and it is cold to the bone, wet cold. It is dark when I walk in the morning now. I treasure the time. I have seen the moon shining on the ocean, so bright that I don't need street lights to walk under to see perfectly. The other morning there were shooting stars to wish upon. The night was so clear and crisp, breath taking.
It will be winter soon, and normally I fall into a slump for November, my month of the dead. Forget a day of the dead, mine is the entire month. I feel blessed, sacred this time entering into my dead month. I don't know why, maybe I am just too full to feel the deep sense of inertia that hits me. I am full of work, of children, grand children, of early morning walks on the ocean. I am but a bit of sand - there is a world bigger than me. Ocean.
My Tom died on the 12th, Gramma the 13th, last term miscarriage on the 16th, mom on the 19th. Goodness of the month: my baby boy was born on the 3rd, my tia on the 13th, dear meln the 15th, and baby girl on the 27th. My life has always been chinese sweet and sour. Happy and sad equally mixed, and just is, order carry out...
Here is to crisp apples, warm drinks, good friends and music in the month of the dead. Cheers.

Ramblings II

2007-09-02T22:46:00.000-07:00

Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions.
Anais Nin

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.
Anais Nin

Sometimes, it is in other's words that I find solace. The bravery of women that have come before me. 'I choose', are those not the bravest words, we choose who we are with, or not with. We have a deeper instinct and choose - will I? Will you, choose? I love Anais Nin, who lived her life with apparent bravado - awake and well aware. I would like a man that has courage, one who has enough courage to treat me like a woman.

mother teresa van morrison and an open mind

2007-09-02T20:47:00.001-07:00

• 'Do not wait for leaders. Do it alone, person to person'. Mother Teresa
I was thinking about Mother Teresa, not so much her but her ability to pack lightly. I was going to go find a picture to post, but then found this quote.
Too many times we wait not only for leaders, but for groups to make our decisions for us, wait to hear all the pros and cons. We are a society of by and far void of original thought.
There are two most mournful sounds, a train whistle blowing at night and a fog horn blowing. Van Morrison. Mother Teresa. Roy Oberson. Miles Davis.
What will my children remember about me? I was unable to pack even my shoes in a carry on bag. They could make me laugh easily by a finger to the forehead, head cocked to the side, and say, 'just let me think about this for a minute...' so annoying when they can do you! Probably my kindness, I think it is a genetic affliction. I may not have all my belongs fit into a carry on bag, but what I do have and you need, please be my guest. Isn't it why you have stuff?
Too many times, the one time I would go into work I would have forgotten to bring or buy socks in the winter, that would be the day we would have 5 or 6 homeless men come in and need them. It is not a big thing, really - probably did not even make a dent in the nights spent outdoors in wet, cold socks. It meant something to me, one night this one night those feet would be warm. What a little thing to do, and don't I have enough socks to make a full monkey zoo?! Truthfully, when your feet are frostbitten, you don't really care that they are not matched socks. Clean and warm is a commodity.
Simply, Mother Teresa lived simply, no husband(s), no child(ren), no dog(s), no grandchild(ren). Her work was present every day, presented itself to her every day.
Ramblings of a moving woman, wanna read more?

Inheritance

2007-08-28T20:32:00.000-07:00

Some time soon I want to address the subject of inheritance. It has been the subject of many discussions with my family and friends of late. Did not mean to intentionally pun there. Lots of death in the past few years. My sister was pondering the idea of my father leaving without leaving us anything. He had made and lost millions in his life time. Unfortunately for his 5 remaining children, he was on the 'lost' side of making losing millions.
I am in the middle of sorting, packing, tossing stuff - mine and others, life time of stuff. There is an urban myth that Mother Teresa could carry all of her possessions in a carry on bag. Not carry on bags, not boxes, not a 3 bedroom house mind you, a carry on bag! I am not there. In my sorting, I found a treasure box of old letters from my sister, from my dead friend Kate, and her dead husband Bill. I have letters and notes from my dead lover, and all of his funny little drawings and maps, maps for me with visual landmarks - cartoonish mountains, squiggley lines for roads and rivers... I found my dad's inheritance to me: a pair of blue sweatpants, a maroon t-shirt, a velcro wrist brace, a sling, and a depends. Oh yea, a pill box for a thousand pills, must have been a 'xlg' on the pill box range. I found the Italian leather bottle that I had sent my Gramma when I was in Europe, and was given back when she died. I have been left priceless items in inheritance. In fact, pretty much all of my earthly possessions, all the ones that I can't fit into a Mother Teresa size carry on bag, have been given to me. I have the sculpted head, paintings, I have beautiful Gawpo pottery, I have cantelope pottery. I have raisin appearing umbilicord remains from all of my children, their first hair cuts, their first lost teeth, and paintings, and journals of their first written words.
The inheritance, the somehow to make up for the non-existent dadism of a dad we had, is non-existent. He was loved like he could not love in the end, given the one thing he did not know how to give. Sometimes, just sometimes, maybe the inheritance is ours to give to our children, ourselves.

The Dog Days of Summer

2007-08-25T12:13:00.000-07:00

My dog, the faithful dog is waiting for me. It seems to be her destiny: to be, to lie in wait for me. She sleeps by the side of my bed, waiting for me to get up. She waits patiently for me to shower and dress so that I can walk her. She waits for me, head on the back seat, for me to come with grocery laden arms. She waits. She is old now, and waiting suits her. She still will bat ears me and half heartedly play like she will actually fetch, a trick she has never truly learned in her whole long dog life. Her rousing when I get up now, a twitch of her ear, a small wag of her tail; getting up only when sure I am not just turning over or pulling on an extra cover. It is my reality check that all is right with the world when she noses me and lays her head on my shoulder and sighs her doggie sigh of life is good.

The dress

2007-08-19T20:25:00.001-07:00

The below coveting began with dress shopping (gawpo, go check out limers in her back to school shopping outfit!) anyway my sprinkles on the top friend who needed a dress for the same occasion came with me. There is a huge story about the shopping trip, her being a night owl and up at 9am with makeup on, ready to shop - just sick and wrong not involving alcohol and/or cards...

We got a bunch of stuff, all under our set budget! Score - so big! We both work the county fair the week before the big event needing a fancy chi-chi dress. The fair is grimy really dusty, dirty, smell of cow pie and not a chi-chi event. It always makes us laugh the transformation from cow to wow!

I get home from the fair and go into the big town to meet up with one of the firefighters working the fair. He is lost, but knows where the Ram (microbrewery) is located (go figure)... I try on the one dress I think would be a good chi-chi event dress, but not sure because there is a lot of bending and moving involved at the event. I shower off the fair grime, put on the dress and head out to pick up the FF for dinner, and to get him back to headquarters for the fair.

We get seated and talk, drink, order food, and drink some more. The appetizers come
and go, and we order dinner and more drinks. I am talking with my hands and telling him about the Bandaid-Blister brigade he will be working, when I look up and the waiter is staring at my dress. I am old and have long passed the staring from waiter stage, so I think - oh good god, what have a dribbled on to me now?! I look down and my boob is fully exposed. When I turned to FF the dressed stayed put, leaving pretty much Victoria's secret out of the closet. FF that he was, when I said, 'Why did you not tell me my dress had some strategic problems?!'looked at me straight faced and said,'It looked fine to me...'

Limers - the boobie dress stayed home and the 'o' dress went to the dance. My lesson? FF's not the best judges of workable dresses.

To covet or not - not a question

2007-08-19T12:22:00.001-07:00

Here is my secret, hugely a secret, ok a secret I am now sharing with you and have shared with my closest girlfriends. I have had a crush on this man, he has beautiful crinkly around the edges, sharp piercingly blue eyes. He is funny and makes me laugh right outloud when I least suspect there is going to be humor; he produces it like a rabbit out of a hat.
These are all reasons to have a crush on someone, in my younger more likely to crush days I have had less reasons, seriously less reasons! The true reason that I am attracted to this man is how he is with his woman. He is the sole caregiver and they are so lovely together. She is beautiful, and funny. She looks up at him and he looks at her, connected and interconnected is the only words I have for it. It takes your breath away. He, she, they are good together, in the most patient and kind, what you would dream of in a relationship. I love her in her precious ways of being interactive with this world, her wheelchair and disability are not what defines her. How can you covet that? It is my secret guilt.
We were all together the other evening, the music was playing and I was teasing her about her secret stealthy ways of sneaking out and outbidding me in a secret auction (everytime I would turn around she would be gone and upping the bid!). She called me over and asked me to dance with her husband. My breath was taken away, I felt exposed, maybe I was too obvious in my adoration for her husband? No; 'Please' she pleaded with me, 'he really wants to dance'. I asked him,'Really? I would love to dance with you if you want to dance'. Like it was doing him a favor, really those are the conflicting moments in my heart that I may go to hell for!
We danced, and had a joyous wild dance for fun. As soon as it ended I went over and hugged her and thanked her for the moment. How can you not love such a thing that they have - it is not covetable.
Under the clear night sky, quartet playing she beamed as her husband got to dance.

Endings and Beginnings

2007-08-19T12:13:00.000-07:00

Today I am all finished with the industry of finishing a job. I have packed all my belongings and left instructions on how to proceed - a general topography map of the things to do.
How I love my friends/co-workers, how I will miss our day to dayness of being together. In any transition there is the moment of being two places at once - not really here nor there, transitory (like a fragrance that trails someone after they leave a room).
Remember when you were tiny and all dressed in your bathing suit?
Standing at the edge of the pool, hands stretched out, wanting to jump, but so afraid? All purple and goosebumps, shivering limbs and lips?
Your cajoling mom in front saying, ‘It’s fine, it is fun! You love water!’
Wanting to jump into the abyss, wanting to jump into waiting arms but so afraid!
Here I stand, ready to leave the safety of the cold concrete and jump, flat out to waiting arms and cold water.
The exhilarating feeling of flight, here is where I am - neither here nor there, suspended mid air, waiting for the splash!

Movin' on up...

2007-07-28T10:45:00.000-07:00

My, I am making big changes - knitting worked! These things I know: I need the ocean as much as air, I need my family and those dearest to me, and a girl's gotta have industry as Maslow waxes...
Gawpo land I am goin'. I am traveling there daily, juggling two jobs and a 3 hour commute. Dinner this past week has been shared with dear friends and grown children-friends. My dawg is doing well, she normally freaks out when boxes appear. This summer with so many boxes appearing/disappearing with children packing up their lives to move on to new and improved 2.0 lives, I think she is adapting to change. It feels good to have a plan, to be starting a new life of me. After my love died, back broke, and children grew up I never thought I would experience this feeling of newness, springlike sensation I have now.
I am coming to my new and improved 2.0 life too. Wow. Daybreak in winter.

Summer

2007-07-19T17:25:00.001-07:00

I was looking for a picture. It is another season passing, day to day of life's unexpected business, and summer is passing. My desire is to lay head on chest and listen to your stories, cool breeze coming off the river through the open window, lying in the history of the bed, covers thrown to the side, head to chest listening.
I used to say the place was enough. Even if you were never there, I would come and be totally content. Now, when I close my eyes and think of place - it is me lying, head to chest, cuddled into you. Every season, I have seen 3, you said I needed to experience, high in the mountains with the rush of the river - water over rocks, come you said, and be comforted in this place.
I was looking for a picture, so when you came silently and read my writings you would know, I desire you, our together self in this place.

Two things

2007-07-06T08:29:00.001-07:00

There are two things I have found a nana needs. A kiss to heal a boo-boo and a bandaid to stop the bleeding.

Prisoner of war

2007-06-28T15:44:00.000-07:00

This is a picture taken by a captive in the Japanese internment camp during World War II.
I have slipped into the inertia of empty house. All the energy seems to have been sucked out into some vortex of non-energy.
When the kids were young and spent time with their dad in the summer, I used to fall into the same inertia. All kids, all of the time - full of kids and the life of kids and then nothing. You can't really start a life, they will be back in some sort of timeframe, never one that was ever guaranteed.
I need to make a plan, make a start on the 'what's next'. The inertia is comfortable, restful even. It is raining, and pictures taken of the summer rain would be a very productive project.
The picture of 'Reflections' is my reminder of Hope, Hope with a capital 'H'.
The captive had hope that someone would view his picture, isn't that why we take pictures? The art of the now, must be a marker for the historical future of things to be and the things that were. We want the record of what is for the time of what was. The idea of this picture gives me Hope. I hope the photographer is living and has achieved all of the dreams he dreamt in confinement.

Officially summer!

2007-06-22T07:03:00.000-07:00

It is sunny! There are tons of relatives, and we are BBQ'ing - the BBQ paluzza, we are piled high with kids sleeping on the floor, floor to floor babies and Brandy is so very happy! She has doggie-smile all the time.
The circus is off to the beach, clamming beach of gawpo for the weekend. Brandy the super dog is happiest at the beach and/or snow- 2nd to grandkid action and now she is going to have 2 out of the 3. Nana-g is pretty overfilled to happiness overload!
The Sea-star boy officially graduated and has his first working interview today on THE BOAT. Wish him Gawpo-luck, he is livin' the boy life.

I come to you

2007-06-17T18:21:00.000-07:00

I come to you
You come to me
There is giving of self

I am present for you
You are present for me
When we are together, it is alive, it is living

As I write, I see myself
Holding your face in my hands
Kissing your eyelids, your lips

So few the times I have been able to come to you,
So few the times you are able to come to me
Yet, somehow it has happened.

I long to wake up with you
I long to lie in repose like Buddha
Waiting, waiting for your return.

I come to you
You come to me
It is enough.

For now.

Father's Day

2007-06-15T07:03:00.000-07:00

Here's to all the wonderful caring dads: Happy Father's Day!
Here's to my oldest son Fish-Dad who has broken every model of cruel person he could have become, and didn't. He is an amazing, loving and kind person. The amazing part? - how he is with the brothers. There is something heart bursting to see this 6'5 frame of a man bent down to listen (forehead to forehead kind of really listening) to his sons. This I know, the brothers will become their true selves because of his being their dad.
Fish-dad - Happy Father's Day.

Time Lines

2007-06-14T16:53:00.000-07:00

Here are some random thoughts about time, and lines;
Song lines, story lines, lines on my forehead...
In 2002 my lovely winged friend got dead as gawpy likes to say, got dead in the most shocking, you're dead fashion of getting dead. Dead.
I played his voice mail over and over to hear his voice - dead.
In 2004 my lovely writer friend got dead as gawpy likes to say, got dead in the most shocking, you're dead fashion of getting dead (and I thought it was so last season - dead.)
I read his letters and emails over and over, to read our plans, our five year fucking die in the middle, two and a half years out of the five, five year plan.
In 2006 my fragile and frail father got dead as gawpy likes to say, got dead in the most drawn out and I'm dying fashion, minute by minute getting dead, so slow you hear his breathing from the next room getting dead, still getting, I am dead, dead.
I drive home and look up expectantly to see him sitting on the patio waiting for me.
Lines and time, time and lines.

Knitting

2007-06-13T10:04:00.000-07:00

I am knitting. My house is a sterile field, closets and drawers clean, refrigerator clean, floors and bathroom - clean. I am knitting. I am knitting my 'what's next?' As the precisely knitted rows become increasingly longer, I pray, I hope, my 'what's next' will appear like some magic tapestry. When in doubt, knit.
I am wondering who I am without kids, you know - the who you are when you are left alone, not engaged in work, math problems, reading to kids, making dinner, lunches, breakfast, car pooling basketball, track and volleyball. The who you are after caring for your invalid dad, who died (how I spent my summer vacation last year)... I have time to shower, pee, put on makeup without interruption. I have time to contemplate what color of lipstick would really look good with my complexion. Am I a 'winter'?
I am knitting.

In Bad Taste

2007-06-12T15:38:00.000-07:00

My friend Peter Moore just wrote an article for Alternatives magazine about 'Bad Taste'. It was in response to a letter to the editor basically chastising him for allowing an article to be published by a 'whore'. (It makes me laugh to think that the soap-box holy one writing the chastising letter would call her a whore. I really love that word even more now!) http://alternatives.zaadz.com/
Here is the query: What is in 'bad taste'? Is writing an alternative article in a magazine named 'Alternatives' in bad taste? - I think it would be appropriate. The comment about children having access to the free publication was humorous as well - the children would have to be high functioning readers as there were no pictures, no four letter words. In fact, I found the letter to the editor much more offensive 'don't have the whore write me back' - more inflammatory than the actual article. The original article made me think about how we view women, sex and the idea of touch in our society.
Peter Moore likes to make you think, really think - question your way of being, acting, question how we live, or apathetically don't live. The original article was first published in the winter 2006. Go read it, tell me what you think. It is thought provoking - righteously indignant letter writing provoking but considered, and just what Mr. Moore intended - Engage and Think.

Life Skills: To my son for graduation

2007-06-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

What else, what skills must we give our children? That is my ponder on the day before my son may graduate from high school... may - as in still has to take and pass a final in US government.

Reading, writing and math - those are given's - it is the intrinsic things in life that make a life - yes?

In no apparent order:

1.) Ability to know when to let it go.

2.) Ability to truly be sorry.

3.) Ability to know when a hug is better than a word.

4.) Ability to laugh, laugh out loud at a circumstance that is truly absurd.

5.) Ability to understand there is always a third choice - it is never this or that, if you step back there is always a different choice, maybe many choices.

6.) Ability to work - 'Maslow - man must have industry'

7.) Ability to fix a kick ass meal.

8.) Ability to wash, fluff, and fold.

9.) Ability to throw a spiral football - I don't know why this is important, but I believe it is.

10.) Ability to turn over and float on your back - very basic if you ever fall into water and don't know how to actually swim. (Actually knowing how to swim would be my first pick)

Say yes - a lot, more than you say no. Say 'how can I help', before you say 'it can't be done'.

Fly away

2007-05-30T08:09:00.000-07:00

I want to call uncle mercy, I want to say I can't do my job any longer. I want to go to the beach in strappy sandals and have lunch and stare at the ocean. I want to drink a glass of wine. I want not to feel like I am so under pressure to be all, do all - all of the time. Wanderlust begs me to fly somewhere exotic and get off the plane and start completely over. Wanna come?

And What If

2007-05-25T19:19:00.000-07:00

And what if I was just there,
when you came home?
Waiting

And what if I just showed you,
the tiniest lace against skin?
Softly

And what if in your room,
Music was playing?
Eroticly

And what if the wine was open,
on the table?
Waiting

And what if in the soltice night,
we silently danced?
Slowly

Would you still hold yourself
from me?

River of words

2007-05-23T08:27:00.000-07:00

Words bubble to the surface like natural springs, head waters of mighty rivers. But now the hands of the writer are withered and dried; words blow through the arid desert like sand.

Refrigerator Wisdom

2007-05-21T08:41:00.000-07:00

Oh poor stupid boy that moved in with her...
Bet your picture is off of the fridge.
May I say fuck her again?
Makes it harder for us honest,
trying to nurture and raise up good men
kinda women.
Makes it harder for women
who love men and want the best for them.
Poor stupid boy that fell for her and moved in.
Let's bow our heads and wish him well
After she rips his heart out and leaves it
in ruins (or in the ruins).
Your picture is up all over all our hearts.
She could only leave,
she could not take away all of the people
who love you, or who will love you.

Two friends off for an adventure

2007-05-19T09:00:00.000-07:00

I am the one in front - Katie and I visited Edgefield and had a great time. One of those times when you remember how much you treasure your friends. There is something about having a friend for a long time, and they know all of your stuff and still love you.

The Clash

2007-05-18T15:20:00.000-07:00

When reality does not fit reality, the real world versus the real work; where do we go from here? What is the thought process when right just isn't right. I am living a life that is clashing with all forms of what I know to be true and right.

Here we are, truth subjective to interpretation, where do we go from here? Only the wise know for sure.
I wish I were wise.

WH Auden on indifference

2007-05-12T09:53:00.000-07:00

The More Loving One
by W. H. Auden
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

Saturday musings

2007-05-12T09:38:00.000-07:00

The iris are blooming, my oriental poppies bobble their heads with the wind - spring in Oregon. I have a sweater and boots, high fashion to be sure for weeding the yard. My roses looks like some sort of alien growth - wart like almost. It must be from the freeze, and the inconsistent weather cold-hot-cold. I cut the blooms off and tossed them aside.