Weblog 58
March 18, 2007~ 8:45pm
True to my word, I have spent 48 hours away from this place, living like a newborn: meaning- 4 hrs. of sleep, 4 hrs. awake- and on and on like that, doing only what the body demands. Lovely....simply lovely. Kind of like a vacation for the spirit.
And in the interim, writing some poems, browsing old, vintage ads (which I always enjoy) and I came across this old one for "Pittsburgh Paints". I remember that company. I think it's defunct now- like Duquesne Brewery, like Max Azen's furs downtown sitting there on its corner- triangular building, local landmark-- or even Kaufmann's Department store (although the famous clock still stands where it always has, prompting the often heard Pittsburgh refrain of, "Oh yeah? Well if that's true, I'll kiss you under Kaufmann's Clock!"-scroll down to see the lovely old timepiece ) Anyway, here's the ad. Made me laugh out loud-
As to that phrase that sets my teeth on edge because so many idiots use it, how is life like a box of chocolates? Yes, yes, I know, you never know what you're biting into... but yes, in most chocolate boxes, you do indeed know, and the Whitman's Sampler in particular, has a 'key' printed at the top, showing which squiggle means which kind of candy is housed inside each brown nugget.
So what about the other implications of that moronic phrase- maybe not so nice. Maybe a little closer to the truth, such as a box of chocolates will make you fat and hurt your social performance (as life does most times). Or a box of chocolates might mean your man has done something he feels guilty about and is trying appeasement. Or the fact that more than anything, chocolate looks like little lumps of shit (which is also something life is rife with) oh, I could go on and on, but the 'surprise thing? Puh-lease- it just ain't so, it's 'cute'; I hate cute. Which is the biggest reason I hated Gump. Because it's the one thing life never is- that word. That one.
March 18, 2007~ 8:45pm
Back now from babysitting, shopping, and having been out in the world again after 48 hours in, I must say it has not changed. Too bad about that. The babysitting was interesting, as always. Little Kay is like a tiny, old wise woman who understands every word, intuits everything, and utters only, "Nooooooooooooo!"--- drawn out and with a big smile on her face, as though she's in complete disbelief at something you've just told her. A disquieting thing to say the least, because I believe that at one and a half, she knows everything-- and thinks everyone is out to josh her.)
Almost four year old Bill leaned in close at the kitchen table and pointed to a hole in the ceiling where a light fixture used to be, a hole about as big as a quarter. "That's a skeleton's eye," he said, conspiratorially. "He lives in there- and he's always looking out." Damned if I didn't believe him, and it creeped me out. LOL!! (He also told me I'm pretty and that my jacket 'stinks'- yes, I had a half-smoked butt in the pocket again. If I believe one statement, I guess I have to believe all of them.) And he likes my hair turning light (white. Just age.) I think he thinks I'm a fairy.
I just read over what I said about the weekend being blissful. Actually, it was kind of anchorless and freefalling-scary. (See what getting out, and a little perspective will do.) Oh, that doesn't mean I'm anxious to dive back into work tomorrow, or that any of the things like getting dressed and putting on a 'game face' are things I look forward to-- it's just that this...this total lack of structure isn't the answer either.
I need a convent or a monastery. I need lauds and vespers. I need goddamned simplicity and I am drowning in bric-a-brac here. Suffocating in cat fur and gew gaws and I want a damned cell and a single cot instead. And a pile of books. And a candle. And a bell. I want to be a nun- or a witch! (And lord, no....I am not a fairy-- nothing that light and sweet. I am solid as rock. Alas...unmovable as well, but given to erosion.) And I'm back into the world tomorrow, queued-up in traffic......Grim. So very grim. With no alternative.
March 21, 2007~ 7:45am
Here is a picture of man's real 'best friend'....
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, and I was greenish-white. Like some undead thing that should be living underground. I haven't felt that close to passing out since I had flu when I was in my teens. So it's been bed rest, bathroom trips....(many of them)....and waiting to feel like I can eat again. The only thing I've had in 48 hours is 2 pieces of toast. Stapled in there with a dose of Imodium.
I don't feel good. Simple as that. Controlled, but lousy and still pretty queasy, with bowels I can't trust at all. Back to bed with me now.....get another nearly 24 hours of sleep and hope this bug passes on. (Damn Eve and that apple.)
March 21, 2007~ 8:20pm
Having slept the day away once again- (and very fortunate in that the medicine is 'working') what I'm feeling is a kind of dizzy weightlessness- a glee- a lightness from having been purged of some poison that had been wrapped around not only my intestines, but my life.
Oh, I know that sounds stupid-- and it's probably just regular hunger (I've only had 4 pieces of toast in the last 48 hours) but it feels 'hopeful'--- cleansed.
I am confident I will be able to wake up at 4:00 a.m., feel like myself again and make it into work. (I know something is different when I look forward to going into work. lol.....so some good has come from this.) It's another two days lopped off my '20 all told' allotted for the year besides holidays, and that certainly sucks, but not anticipating any real vacations this year, it really shouldn't matter much. Perhaps a trip to West Point in the fall before the snow flies to see my son and his family, and maybe a long weekend or two, but no full-week scheduled for anything truly planned.
How I dream of someday being able to just drive cross-country; visit Yellowstone and the beautiful northwest. My real dream would be to take scenic train ride up through that part of the country. Gosh, how I'd love that! Maybe.....maybe someday, right? What's an imagination for, if not to dream big dreams?
I am about to start my book on Abraham Lincoln's melancholy and the way that connected to his greatness. I love Abe. Absolutely love the man. After having read two murder/mystery novels back to back, this will be a thoughtful change of pace for me. Slower reading....more thought. Less 'potato chip' reading. Something to feed my soul. (Notice the 'food metaphors'. lol...I must be hungry, even though I don't feel like it yet.) Mood has improved, that's for sure. A good sign that health is just on the horizon.......like everything....it's out there. And here is one of the strangest 'Lincoln' portraits I know of. Painted by Dali, and you have to squint to see Lincoln, but yes- he's there, alright.
***
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True to my word, I have spent 48 hours away from this place, living like a newborn: meaning- 4 hrs. of sleep, 4 hrs. awake- and on and on like that, doing only what the body demands. Lovely....simply lovely. Kind of like a vacation for the spirit.
And in the interim, writing some poems, browsing old, vintage ads (which I always enjoy) and I came across this old one for "Pittsburgh Paints". I remember that company. I think it's defunct now- like Duquesne Brewery, like Max Azen's furs downtown sitting there on its corner- triangular building, local landmark-- or even Kaufmann's Department store (although the famous clock still stands where it always has, prompting the often heard Pittsburgh refrain of, "Oh yeah? Well if that's true, I'll kiss you under Kaufmann's Clock!"-scroll down to see the lovely old timepiece ) Anyway, here's the ad. Made me laugh out loud-
As to that phrase that sets my teeth on edge because so many idiots use it, how is life like a box of chocolates? Yes, yes, I know, you never know what you're biting into... but yes, in most chocolate boxes, you do indeed know, and the Whitman's Sampler in particular, has a 'key' printed at the top, showing which squiggle means which kind of candy is housed inside each brown nugget.
So what about the other implications of that moronic phrase- maybe not so nice. Maybe a little closer to the truth, such as a box of chocolates will make you fat and hurt your social performance (as life does most times). Or a box of chocolates might mean your man has done something he feels guilty about and is trying appeasement. Or the fact that more than anything, chocolate looks like little lumps of shit (which is also something life is rife with) oh, I could go on and on, but the 'surprise thing? Puh-lease- it just ain't so, it's 'cute'; I hate cute. Which is the biggest reason I hated Gump. Because it's the one thing life never is- that word. That one.
March 18, 2007~ 8:45pm
Back now from babysitting, shopping, and having been out in the world again after 48 hours in, I must say it has not changed. Too bad about that. The babysitting was interesting, as always. Little Kay is like a tiny, old wise woman who understands every word, intuits everything, and utters only, "Nooooooooooooo!"--- drawn out and with a big smile on her face, as though she's in complete disbelief at something you've just told her. A disquieting thing to say the least, because I believe that at one and a half, she knows everything-- and thinks everyone is out to josh her.)
Almost four year old Bill leaned in close at the kitchen table and pointed to a hole in the ceiling where a light fixture used to be, a hole about as big as a quarter. "That's a skeleton's eye," he said, conspiratorially. "He lives in there- and he's always looking out." Damned if I didn't believe him, and it creeped me out. LOL!! (He also told me I'm pretty and that my jacket 'stinks'- yes, I had a half-smoked butt in the pocket again. If I believe one statement, I guess I have to believe all of them.) And he likes my hair turning light (white. Just age.) I think he thinks I'm a fairy.
I just read over what I said about the weekend being blissful. Actually, it was kind of anchorless and freefalling-scary. (See what getting out, and a little perspective will do.) Oh, that doesn't mean I'm anxious to dive back into work tomorrow, or that any of the things like getting dressed and putting on a 'game face' are things I look forward to-- it's just that this...this total lack of structure isn't the answer either.
I need a convent or a monastery. I need lauds and vespers. I need goddamned simplicity and I am drowning in bric-a-brac here. Suffocating in cat fur and gew gaws and I want a damned cell and a single cot instead. And a pile of books. And a candle. And a bell. I want to be a nun- or a witch! (And lord, no....I am not a fairy-- nothing that light and sweet. I am solid as rock. Alas...unmovable as well, but given to erosion.) And I'm back into the world tomorrow, queued-up in traffic......Grim. So very grim. With no alternative.
March 21, 2007~ 7:45am
Here is a picture of man's real 'best friend'....
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, and I was greenish-white. Like some undead thing that should be living underground. I haven't felt that close to passing out since I had flu when I was in my teens. So it's been bed rest, bathroom trips....(many of them)....and waiting to feel like I can eat again. The only thing I've had in 48 hours is 2 pieces of toast. Stapled in there with a dose of Imodium.
I don't feel good. Simple as that. Controlled, but lousy and still pretty queasy, with bowels I can't trust at all. Back to bed with me now.....get another nearly 24 hours of sleep and hope this bug passes on. (Damn Eve and that apple.)
March 21, 2007~ 8:20pm
Having slept the day away once again- (and very fortunate in that the medicine is 'working') what I'm feeling is a kind of dizzy weightlessness- a glee- a lightness from having been purged of some poison that had been wrapped around not only my intestines, but my life.
Oh, I know that sounds stupid-- and it's probably just regular hunger (I've only had 4 pieces of toast in the last 48 hours) but it feels 'hopeful'--- cleansed.
I am confident I will be able to wake up at 4:00 a.m., feel like myself again and make it into work. (I know something is different when I look forward to going into work. lol.....so some good has come from this.) It's another two days lopped off my '20 all told' allotted for the year besides holidays, and that certainly sucks, but not anticipating any real vacations this year, it really shouldn't matter much. Perhaps a trip to West Point in the fall before the snow flies to see my son and his family, and maybe a long weekend or two, but no full-week scheduled for anything truly planned.
How I dream of someday being able to just drive cross-country; visit Yellowstone and the beautiful northwest. My real dream would be to take scenic train ride up through that part of the country. Gosh, how I'd love that! Maybe.....maybe someday, right? What's an imagination for, if not to dream big dreams?
I am about to start my book on Abraham Lincoln's melancholy and the way that connected to his greatness. I love Abe. Absolutely love the man. After having read two murder/mystery novels back to back, this will be a thoughtful change of pace for me. Slower reading....more thought. Less 'potato chip' reading. Something to feed my soul. (Notice the 'food metaphors'. lol...I must be hungry, even though I don't feel like it yet.) Mood has improved, that's for sure. A good sign that health is just on the horizon.......like everything....it's out there. And here is one of the strangest 'Lincoln' portraits I know of. Painted by Dali, and you have to squint to see Lincoln, but yes- he's there, alright.
(Return To Weekly Archives)
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