Weblog 87
October 7, 2007~ 12:35am
Sometimes things just gather up ready to pounce- be it the build up of emotion, or depression, or tamped down negativity, one day it all rears up and flat out attacks...
I've been having a spot of that, and it's disorienting, I will tell you, and not what I'm used to at all. Usually I'm pretty chipper, but seeing how the death of my cat has affected me has thrown me for a loop: how long does such grief last? And why does it seem to come upon me like a highwayman and steal the good stuff right out? I know I still feel responsible for relegating her to the cellar for her persistent and unrelenting incontinence that I took to be behavioral, when in fact, the poor thing may have been ill. OK, I have a guilty conscience, so maybe that's why this grief feels so damned awful, and the tears never seem to wash any of the despondence away.
I look at my nineteen year old tom and think....."How long for him? How long for any of us... and how do we bear the 'unknowing'?"
I think what's happening to me is old, buried undealt-with issues are bubbling under the surface. Issues of control and fear of dependence- fear of frailty and sickness, fear of need itself. Without too much prodding I go into semi-tailspins, and everything just goes black, black, black. I've been searching EVP's (Electronic Voice Phenomena) on the web, and there are lots of them. Creepy, otherworldly voices- or what passes for voices- but sometimes surprisingly and chillingly clear. The dead.....talking. It's worrisome to think that some may be stuck somehow unable to pass on, unable to let go of those final moments and just go- whereever it is we go after the last breath.
And morbid pictures. I've been studying images in art sites and feeling them enter in ways that are more invasive than usual, and that stay with me longer. This one......
bothered me most of all. The seediness of the surroundings. The heartbreaking look of those anklet socks and MaryJane shoes- the absolute giving up......it's like the death of innocence, that picture.
I wish that I had something cheerier to stick in here today on this beginning of the second week of October, but I don't. Not just yet. I feel too scraped-up raw. I want to sleep for a thousand days without dreaming for a minute. I want to disappear. I want to stop time. I want.....I want......I want not to want.
October 7, 2007~ 9:00pm
I had a very creepy, though enjoyable time sampling all sorts of EVP'S last night. Some are quite amazing in being able to capture the 'personality' of the one passed over, and I must say that some people, cranky or obscene in this life, apparently go on to continue in that vein in the great beyond! I mean, if someone were trying to contact me after death, I doubt very much the words I'd choose to deliver would be along the lines of "Suck my big ass"......LOL!!!...yet, there is 'The Rude Guy', hissing out his vitriole from the other side of the veil. And an old grumpy fella answering the question of 'who am I talking to?' in the voice of the recently departed (and very cranky in life) old grandfather of one of the listeners- "Tell her he's satan!"
If you want to hear these and others- including the voice of Marilyn Monroe and John Belushi, pay a visit to AA EVP. I warrent you'll get a few chills- as well as a fascinating hour or so of listening and wondering if the dead really do still speak to us- and what surprising things they choose to communicate!
October 8, 2007~ 5:00pm
That's me today: THE BUTTON JUGGLER. Head not attached- standing on a rounded, precarious surface, chipped and useless- no legs or feet to walk away....just juggling. Juggling my heart out, trying to keep the useless buttons in the air.
I took one miserable day off from work, just to come back and find that I'm buried, literally BURIED in work- and how I shall ever take a full week's vacation again is beyond me! I have the one f*cking job that nobody else fills in for when I'm not there- it just piles and piles, waiting for me when I get back.
Add to that, the fact that the temperatures the last two days were record breakers (20 DEGREES above the norm-- high 80's-- almost 90 with high humidity)- and I become either rabid or despairing. A little of both, actually. The month I wait for is turning back into the dog days of August; what a cruel joke.
And I find I'm more of a physical creature than I even realize because my own curtain of flesh being uncomfortable- (as it always is in stifling heat)-- can set the world into a tailspin: it makes me feel trapped. Trapped and edgy.
And instead of just holing up and waiting for it to pass, I am additionally trapped in a mountain of airless, ever-growing paperwork-- two steps forward, five steps back, and more to come. More 'logs on the fire'......and only one stoker.
Yes I am the headless juggler, trying to keep it all together while I wait for crispness again- sharpness. Breathing room. A clear eye, not these jaundiced ones I've been looking at things through, but eyes that feel like I've just cleaned my glasses, and the hills have turned overnight to orange and red. And oh, the smell of apples, tart and cool! Ah....that's what I'd really, really like. Not this haze of stale, moist air. I'm waiting on the thunder. (-oh, and I got some, too. I just wheeled my chair over some part of my cat and as he yalped I let loose in fury at him: "GODDAMMIT!! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU? WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS UNDER FOOT, YOU DUMBASS!" If I'd had a gun I would have shot us both.)
October 9, 2007~ 5:00pm
Shhhhh!! (I believe the worst of my grief has passed.) I hate to jinx it, but I think yesterday was the nadir. (I hope, I hope)- I'd really gotten myself down- and started to ask, "How long is this going to feel this way??"-- and then I went to up to bed and actually started to pay attention to the words I was reading. That's a first in two weeks......and I had a fantastically deep, deep sleep last night. This morning I felt disoriented, but I didn't feel hollow- not guilty or hopeless.
Today, I found this nifty little site that I really love- and in keeping with Halloweeny things and paranormal things in this month of ghosts and such- I thought you might enjoy stopping here-(click the picture)
It's the 'Victoria Regina Tarot'- beautifully illustrated, truly- and so much fun to play about it in there. I've loved Tarot cards as long for as I can remember, and still have the traditional pack that I bought in the early 70's and keep in a small, carved sandalwood box- wrapped inside by a paisley scarf. It sits on the living room coffee table, but I haven't looked at them in years. I remember hunching over them like a cobbler on my bed- laying out a hand in the Tree of Life spread, then moving back and forth between the layout and the hard back book I'd bought on Tarot interpretation- its spine cracked open against the plaid comforter. What fun that was!-- the candles burning- "Medieval Harpsichord" playing in the background from my portable stereo, an LP from the Nonesuch label...lol...(I was buying the whole 60's/70's thing)-- and oh, I thought the world a mysterious place- and me most of all. Some of that has lasted. I think I may take up that deck again tonight and do a reading. See if fate's still chasing me with a cleaver- who knows-- he may have lost me.
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
Sometimes things just gather up ready to pounce- be it the build up of emotion, or depression, or tamped down negativity, one day it all rears up and flat out attacks...
I've been having a spot of that, and it's disorienting, I will tell you, and not what I'm used to at all. Usually I'm pretty chipper, but seeing how the death of my cat has affected me has thrown me for a loop: how long does such grief last? And why does it seem to come upon me like a highwayman and steal the good stuff right out? I know I still feel responsible for relegating her to the cellar for her persistent and unrelenting incontinence that I took to be behavioral, when in fact, the poor thing may have been ill. OK, I have a guilty conscience, so maybe that's why this grief feels so damned awful, and the tears never seem to wash any of the despondence away.
I look at my nineteen year old tom and think....."How long for him? How long for any of us... and how do we bear the 'unknowing'?"
I think what's happening to me is old, buried undealt-with issues are bubbling under the surface. Issues of control and fear of dependence- fear of frailty and sickness, fear of need itself. Without too much prodding I go into semi-tailspins, and everything just goes black, black, black. I've been searching EVP's (Electronic Voice Phenomena) on the web, and there are lots of them. Creepy, otherworldly voices- or what passes for voices- but sometimes surprisingly and chillingly clear. The dead.....talking. It's worrisome to think that some may be stuck somehow unable to pass on, unable to let go of those final moments and just go- whereever it is we go after the last breath.
And morbid pictures. I've been studying images in art sites and feeling them enter in ways that are more invasive than usual, and that stay with me longer. This one......
bothered me most of all. The seediness of the surroundings. The heartbreaking look of those anklet socks and MaryJane shoes- the absolute giving up......it's like the death of innocence, that picture.
I wish that I had something cheerier to stick in here today on this beginning of the second week of October, but I don't. Not just yet. I feel too scraped-up raw. I want to sleep for a thousand days without dreaming for a minute. I want to disappear. I want to stop time. I want.....I want......I want not to want.
October 7, 2007~ 9:00pm
I had a very creepy, though enjoyable time sampling all sorts of EVP'S last night. Some are quite amazing in being able to capture the 'personality' of the one passed over, and I must say that some people, cranky or obscene in this life, apparently go on to continue in that vein in the great beyond! I mean, if someone were trying to contact me after death, I doubt very much the words I'd choose to deliver would be along the lines of "Suck my big ass"......LOL!!!...yet, there is 'The Rude Guy', hissing out his vitriole from the other side of the veil. And an old grumpy fella answering the question of 'who am I talking to?' in the voice of the recently departed (and very cranky in life) old grandfather of one of the listeners- "Tell her he's satan!"
If you want to hear these and others- including the voice of Marilyn Monroe and John Belushi, pay a visit to AA EVP. I warrent you'll get a few chills- as well as a fascinating hour or so of listening and wondering if the dead really do still speak to us- and what surprising things they choose to communicate!
October 8, 2007~ 5:00pm
That's me today: THE BUTTON JUGGLER. Head not attached- standing on a rounded, precarious surface, chipped and useless- no legs or feet to walk away....just juggling. Juggling my heart out, trying to keep the useless buttons in the air.
I took one miserable day off from work, just to come back and find that I'm buried, literally BURIED in work- and how I shall ever take a full week's vacation again is beyond me! I have the one f*cking job that nobody else fills in for when I'm not there- it just piles and piles, waiting for me when I get back.
Add to that, the fact that the temperatures the last two days were record breakers (20 DEGREES above the norm-- high 80's-- almost 90 with high humidity)- and I become either rabid or despairing. A little of both, actually. The month I wait for is turning back into the dog days of August; what a cruel joke.
And I find I'm more of a physical creature than I even realize because my own curtain of flesh being uncomfortable- (as it always is in stifling heat)-- can set the world into a tailspin: it makes me feel trapped. Trapped and edgy.
And instead of just holing up and waiting for it to pass, I am additionally trapped in a mountain of airless, ever-growing paperwork-- two steps forward, five steps back, and more to come. More 'logs on the fire'......and only one stoker.
Yes I am the headless juggler, trying to keep it all together while I wait for crispness again- sharpness. Breathing room. A clear eye, not these jaundiced ones I've been looking at things through, but eyes that feel like I've just cleaned my glasses, and the hills have turned overnight to orange and red. And oh, the smell of apples, tart and cool! Ah....that's what I'd really, really like. Not this haze of stale, moist air. I'm waiting on the thunder. (-oh, and I got some, too. I just wheeled my chair over some part of my cat and as he yalped I let loose in fury at him: "GODDAMMIT!! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU? WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS UNDER FOOT, YOU DUMBASS!" If I'd had a gun I would have shot us both.)
October 9, 2007~ 5:00pm
Shhhhh!! (I believe the worst of my grief has passed.) I hate to jinx it, but I think yesterday was the nadir. (I hope, I hope)- I'd really gotten myself down- and started to ask, "How long is this going to feel this way??"-- and then I went to up to bed and actually started to pay attention to the words I was reading. That's a first in two weeks......and I had a fantastically deep, deep sleep last night. This morning I felt disoriented, but I didn't feel hollow- not guilty or hopeless.
Today, I found this nifty little site that I really love- and in keeping with Halloweeny things and paranormal things in this month of ghosts and such- I thought you might enjoy stopping here-(click the picture)
It's the 'Victoria Regina Tarot'- beautifully illustrated, truly- and so much fun to play about it in there. I've loved Tarot cards as long for as I can remember, and still have the traditional pack that I bought in the early 70's and keep in a small, carved sandalwood box- wrapped inside by a paisley scarf. It sits on the living room coffee table, but I haven't looked at them in years. I remember hunching over them like a cobbler on my bed- laying out a hand in the Tree of Life spread, then moving back and forth between the layout and the hard back book I'd bought on Tarot interpretation- its spine cracked open against the plaid comforter. What fun that was!-- the candles burning- "Medieval Harpsichord" playing in the background from my portable stereo, an LP from the Nonesuch label...lol...(I was buying the whole 60's/70's thing)-- and oh, I thought the world a mysterious place- and me most of all. Some of that has lasted. I think I may take up that deck again tonight and do a reading. See if fate's still chasing me with a cleaver- who knows-- he may have lost me.
(Return To Weekly Archives)
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