snippets of springtime from random journal entries:
There is a tiny baby in polka dots here in the waiting room at the eye doctor. We are waiting for Buddha the Grouch’s pupils to dilate. The baby cris, is picked up by her mom. She (the baby) makes a motor boat sound with her tiny lips. I tell Buddga the Grouch “That baby is cute. I want to squish her.” Buddha the Grouch says “That baby wants me to be able to play M-rated video games.
End of day I’m off my feet
This cultivated silence, background noise & candle & a cuppa joe. Resounding non-sound a temporary respite from day’s dull roar & I sit in silence, let word overtake me silence bringing onrush of joy to temporary standstill silence & my crickets still sound like birds after all these years humidity brings it back to me that bedroom window the only place to press my face for cooler air to embrace. People drifting in and out of my picture view, bumbling like enormous mountains the size of ships. The traffic shifts my focus.
What have I learned this week? That you can’t force a banana into a peanut jar? That I don’t know why I keep ending up in the middle of crazy-ass relationships. It’s like the reverse instinct. Like when we were at the zoo & the people all ran TOWARDS the lion when he roared.
What I mean to say is this – I am forming sentences in a vacuum. A grave mistake. A simple misdirection and a hollow expression. This magic can interact transgressively. Regress into an open can. Trying to believe I can be liberated. B.B. King is free from the spell.
I ate popcorn for dinner tonight – and other tales of misguided adulthood.
The dog is outside, whining. Right now, I’m playing Sims. Enjoying peace and housematelessness and guestlessness. Soon there will be more guests and new guests and before that kids and back to work.
But at least the house is mostly clean, and the laundry is mostly done, and I have mostly exercised mostly every day. Mostly.
From here on out, I get to do what I want to do. Wander around in my pajamas all day.
When did I allow my heart to get so fettered, not feathered,
Weathered. This is not love
by any approximation & yet
it is approximately the closest
I feel like I can get
One who gives me everything but
one who gives me nothing but
I divide myself into portions
Portions of me
For the taking.
I should be satisfied
the dove in my hand, and
the hawk in my bush.
I may go cold turkey.
I wonder what I am half paying attention to now?
What am I?
I stopped caring
the minute I stopped
Steadfastly refuse to call myself
in my mind.
Walking in heat
Falling in love w/the you in everyone
& longing, which is the better part of love
The distance so tangible, it feels
like a touch
that keeps me from alone long not long alone. The
you in everyone I have never had had
never known no never. Will never know
& that’s ok b/c longing
is the better part
Listening to wind chime & bird chatter and cars going by. It sure feels good to be alive.
In a minutes, I’m going to wrap this up & take the kids out for ice cream. Maybe come back out on the porch later & write some more.
Oh, and – I got the job.
Chirping, I hope like a cricket – w/out wings. I can only fall. Hop. Skip. You say it is not the way you planned things. I say Fuck Your Plans.
The Tao of Bird argued about not wanting to take a shower for about 30 minutes this morning. Including yelling and name calling and tantrum throwing and many many many “I HATE YOU”‘s. Now he is in the shower. Has been for about 15 minutes. Singing away. Apparently never planning to come out.
Meanwhile, Buddha the grouch is still sleeping, I am listening to an Animal Collective song called Bees. The birds are singing. The sun is shining.
“Please Take Your Time…”
The song entreaties me. Entices me. Pleads with me.