Friday, March 11, 2011


I've been running a long time.  And just when I think I have something figured out, I run up against the Way It Is.

It's not that I have any real reason to complain...listening to "Your Baby Ain't Sweet Like Mine," by the Carolina Chocolate Drops--nothing to take away from that kind of wonderful.  Plus, good headphones.  I'm literally surrounded on all sides by books.  Ooooh, Adele popped in.

Sometimes the week just catches you just as you were headed for the weekend.  It clings to your clothes and demands decompression.  Once the air has begun to squeeze out of revisit what refuses to release you.  At least I do.

The burst of stress always comes on Friday nights...then sheer exhaustion.  Sometimes you run out of steam before you can even articulate your rage.  I think it is more subtle than rage...something akin to a nightmare...working out buried things that you were too busy trying to get around or through...a fugue that weighs on the shoulder, but loosens the tongue.  Which is why I suppose lots of people head straight for the club, the bottle or the escape of a New Release--the wretched routines that deliver us from feeling...that resemble emotional expressions, but are mere apparitions.

The Way It Is.  No one wants to deal with the mirror. At a certain point, it simply is a bore if nothing else.

So, as I turn it away from me--it scans from left to right.  The wall covered by Bookcase #1.  Four nice-sized shelves, with baskets of office supplies, journals that were and might be, medicine, photographs, hemp lotion, unbroken ceramics, long-kept mementos, a tarot deck, a Clemson cup of pens and all the books I aim to read or reread this year.  Some titles for you...just to give you an idea of what is coming up....The Gift by Lewis Hyde, Liar's Poker by Michael Lewis, Choke by Chuck Palahniuk, The Big Sort,  by Bill Bishop, Amazing Grace by Jonathon Kozol,  A Tear and a Smile by Kahlil Gibran.  Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk by David Sedaris--and beside the bed on the floor--the stack that has begun to nag me to finish:  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K Rowling, The Best American Nonrequired Reading, edited by Dave Eggers (2010), John Adams, by David McCullough, Just Kids, by Patti Smith and the on-going expedition that is Persephone Returns: Victims, Heroes, and the Journey from the Underworld by Tanya Wilkinson.  Little joys and bothers all.

Purses strewn, contents spread over latest masterpieces by my progeny....another bookcase (this one with two shelves of semi-organized important paperwork and photos and another shelf of jewelry and other precious objects.)  Then, the window.  The mini-fridge and a chair draped to near collapse with clothes not yet dirty enough to wash.  The opening to the grand closet and then the 3rd of 6 bookcases...this one with more trinkets, books I finished with recently--the wreckage of ceramics that once were and might one day be again--too many random items like lipstick and coffee cups and candle holders that no longer hold wick.

There is no denying wherever you are.  OMG, this new Adele is some kinda serious bathtub music if you know what I mean...just true like an arrow.

Nestled in well enough now.  Nite Nite dear Ones...may your dreams sound like this..."If It Hadn't Been For Love, " by the Adele lull that lilts and taunts at the same time...

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