Random Shuffling

Checking back in to my blog. It's like therapy, only cheaper. Who knew that the emotional equivalent of showering naked on a beach full of strangers would be so relieving. Even more so, because there are so many others in mental exposure that I might as well be invisible.

My brain is trying to come up with a meri manifesto. Not being inclined to such activity, it's taking it's sweet time. It's also hard to put in writing because then I can't con myself out of it. Very inconvenient, withal. So here goes nothing. I will write. I will draw, I will make music. I will dance when the music laughs at me, and sing when I can't hold the notes in anymore. I will swim in words until I drown in my thoughts at old age. I'll breathe. I may actually clean house. I will dispose of extranities that keep me from flying. I will say no. I will say, "NO MEANS NO!" I will eat cupcakes or pancakes at midnight. I will let myself relax. And I will eat chocolate. ;)

I don't know that it makes any difference to say these things. Perhaps if I look again tomorrow, it will motivate me. Perhaps if I look at it now, I'll write~

Avoidance issues

Fence with shadows. I knew that it was
silly to start, but even now I'm not
burnt enough to learn. A monkey
or a raccoon, trapped with reaching.
You'd think that the shine would not
entice so. It's just a bit of metal
a flashy gleam, nothing of note. yet
I'm dragged back in. as flashbacks go,
this one sucks. Night of night of night
in breathless rage. or airless grief.
perhaps if I could blow it off
or fill my lungs, I would know
which one raced over my tongue
and swallow.

On the Cusp

Ever notice how that phrase sounds like what it means? On the cusp. I almost fall over until the addendum follows. On the cusp of what? I'm feeling rather now like I've been on the cusp for a long time. I'm tired of it. Where's my denouement? I want to stop hanging on the edge of the roller coaster and slide screaming over the drop.

I'm beginning to suspect that my life doesn't have one. The only problem is that's against the laws of physics. Conservation of energy, and all that. If my conservation of energy is broken, that would explain a lot. Perhaps that's why I keep trying to write this blog while carrying on a text conversation to finalize my divorce. Perhaps the inertia involved in the whole matter makes it apropos.

Yes, my divorce is finally winding up. The last paperwork is being signed and notarized today. I will take it to the Lawyer's office. Monday is the first day it may be turned in. I'm told that the Judge reviews and hopefully signs it in a week or so. The lawyer doesn't seem to think there will be any problem, so I shall be cautiously hopeful. I don't really feel like screaming over the drop, though. It doesn't feel like there's much of one. Maybe I missed the moment, or the slope was so gentle that there was no perceptible change. I'm hoping I'm in that weightless moment before the plunge~

I actually started some fiction. Got distracted again almost immediately. But here's what I coughed out. I'm just thinking I should yell, "Hairball!"

Her fingers liked to dance. Dance on the keyboard, dance on the strings, and dance in the air. She’d stop breathing before she’d stop punctuating a conversation with her hands. If her fingers really did the walking, she’d take the gold in sprinting, easy. Rob watched them traipse across the keyboard in a jig of expletives. It seems another flame war was exploding in the triple digits.

Rob stood behind her long enough to tally the total number of fucks, and went downstairs to get a drink. He still didn’t know how he had ended up with her. Day and night and dark and light… you could talk opposites all you want, and still get the same shock seeing them together. She was loud. Loud in talk, walk, and attitude. He could melt into the air and no one would notice. Gothic black with neon versus muted earthiness. Her ears were not so much pierced as laced with metal. Rob didn’t know what his parents would do if he wore any jewelry save his class ring.

But the air around her practically sizzled, she was so alive. Charisma like a black hole drawing him in. He’d stopped at the orbit point and circled in fascinated wonder, but never knew if he would come to fall in or spin out of control. He didn’t think his dad would find the same attraction.

That was the problem, wasn’t it. They’d been after him for a while to say if he was seeing anyone. His mom had visions of a genteel long engagement while the lovebirds finished degrees, and hopes of lacy pink midget dresses a year after they got out. Dad wanted to brag, pure and simple. Another fine genetic clone to take another fine company branch. Insert living example of the edge of pop culture and get…? Something of much more epic proportions than the flame war above.

But she wanted to meet them.

Somewhat Revived

I'm baaaaaaack. Eladnarra decided to revisit her 30 days, and it got me excited to work on it again too. I'm not much for regular blogging, but this sort of wandering hodgepodge of creative ideas appeals to me. So, it's time to start again~

I think I'm going to just free associate today to get going.

there's a sort of vauge irritation to waiting on your plans for someone to make up their mind. There's a road trip in the offing, and the responses are more of the, I dunno, wadda u wanna do? flavor. I don't do well with those. If I want to do nothing, I'll do nothing. If I want to do something, I want to get doing it! So I'm ready to hit the ground running~ Running, sunning, funning...

the weather's been horrifically warm for spring. That means that july will be simply gruesome. Like those stulifying days in Nanakuli, when the air was still, wet, and like a velvet blanket pressing you into the chair. We'd lie on the masonite board floor and suck up its coolness. Or at least its lack of insulating qualities. Hair spread out in an anemone on the wood around us. back of the neck releasing the heat and feeling a little dizzy and totally somulent. Shorts and light tees never helped. the velvet air just pressed heavier in their light folds.

On better days we'd go out and play in the fields. Soy beans. Cotton. Pumpkin. Illima. Pikake. and best of all, asparagus. Little lacy patches of asparagus all around the yard. all of them tender young shoots. Like a green easter egg hunt. We'd cart bags full of tiny spears back to the kitchen that they'd boil up. and sneak edamame while it was cooking. much less traumatic than the pig carcass in the back of the station wagon...