Weblog 234
August 1, 2010~ 12:00 am
The year is galloping. Amazing how it's dwindling down. There's only five months of 2010 left, and that makes my head spin.
I've been in a semi-depressed frame of mind...and the rest is caped in mystery.
That picture strikes me in an eerie way. Who IS that person and what are they doing, done up like a super-hero (or a vampire)-and wearing those platform white shoes? (It strikes me now......that LOOKS LIKE MY MOTHER! That's why I chose that image. LOL!!) It may be a man with puffy white hair...whoever it is, they're scary to me. Probably some eccentric. Most days, even the terribly ordinary looks mysterious to me-- or misshapen or threatening --at least clouded in secrets and foreboding. I'm caught in the gauze of 'unknowing'...
groping about for something familiar or safe. Sitting here in front of this computer is safe. Driving in my car is not. Reading the news is not- it's always ghastly anymore. The phone rings and I'm convinced it's bad news. My fears grow bigger all the time. I feel isolated and that's different than just being alone, which feels safe-- I feel irreparably cut out of the equation(whatever that equation may be) --I'm not in it. And this line of thinking makes me feel like a jinx of some kind; like a rainmaker, I'm afraid I'll call the lightning and the floods upon us just by dwelling on stuff.
This is a rut, I suppose. A 'bad patch'. I think I need to get off the gerbil wheel for awhile, but I have no vacation scheduled until late September, and I badly need a change of scene now. Work has been very busy. (That's the biggest part of the gerbil wheel) and yes, the routine of visiting my mother 3 times a week and watching her watch her watch, nodding off in the chair, pretending she hears what I'm saying rather than repeating "What? What?" - again and again. The traffic I sit in, those boring queues with dangerously short fuses driving the other cars, looking for opportunities to cut in and out as though we're in a video game instead of vulnerable flesh, sitting inside of deadly metal casing- these things freak me out when I begin to dwell on them.
I can't shake these feelings...thought I'd just write them out. Maybe get some strength from looking at it, listening for the absurdity. Maybe throw on a GREEN CAPE of my own....
Viking hat on my head. I think I'll just picture myself that way. A warrior. Facing it. What I need is a break in the heat that lasts longer than the odd day here and there, so fresh winds can begin blowing cooler and cleaner. I want AUTUMN. I do well in autumn. It's my season. I want to feel chilly enough to begin to think of fire. Fire is rebirth. Fire is the kindled emotions snapping and burning free.
It sounds like a contradiction, but I want this heat to disappear so that it's cool enough to long for fire. Fire is regenerative- it means "Something's COOKING!"- not slowly melting, vulnerably so in this day-after-day miasma of humid, heated air -but crackling bright. Sharp and surprising. Something to warm the inside while the outside is comfortably cool. Let's face it.... this summer has left me both stagnant and downtrodden. Trapped and fretful. I want that to end. Soon.
(Here's how pathetically mopey my mood is.... it's 10 pm at night, but I'm pretending it's already midnight so I can post this and go off to bed. LOL!!) At least there's books. I'm reading the third book in the Millenium Trilogy starring red-hot fictional icon 'Lisbeth Salander'- "The Girl Who Played With Fire" -(this one is called, "The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest") by the now deceased Stieg Larsson, the Swedish novelist who captured the world with his plucky, prickly Goth girl.
Off I go to delve into Swedish secret service intrigue, and the resourceful heroine who breaks all rules. (I've found myself liking the characters less and less with each book. Still, the tale is mesmerizing enough to draw me in.) Hey! It's just like life! G'nite all.
(Had to come back in and add this one link)....this site SUITS MY MOOD TO A TEE! It shows the commonplace, but back far enough in time and with the harsh light of the upper northern hemisphere in December so that it looks TWILIGHT-ZONISH. I love it!! It shows the sense of isolation and weirdness that's imprisoned me recently. I give you...
Anchorage In The 70's What a GREAT SITE! How spooky the past can look when presented this way. When I look at these pictures I feel like an alien who just crawled out of a shiny spaceship from a galaxy far, far away- who's just seeing earth for the first time.... Enjoy! Mr. Cysewski is a marvelous chronicler.
August 4, 2010~ 6:30 am
I've had a busy (stressful? --yes) week so far.
I have SUCH A TALE to tell about my last week and a half's ordeal over mandatory FLOOD INSURANCE (but that's a whole other subject I need to take over to my 'bitch blog'.....as soon as I cool down and process things) ...but I will say that out of sheer desperation I even wrote to New York's Attorney Andrew Cuomo. LOL!! Why? (When I'm a Pennsylvanian?) Because I believe him to be the last honest man in America, and I like the way he takes on BIG INSURANCE companies, that's why. "Go, Cuomo!"
Then there is the TOTAL CLOSURE of the southbound lane of the road I live on- that will continue for at least a month- crippling local businesses and making my 10 minute, straight-shot ride to see my mother at the nursing home a Google Map researched, snaking GOAT TRAIL to get there. Bear in mind that the friendly 'locals' who live on these alternate side streets have painted large, sloppy wooden signs that say, "NOT A THRU WAY! LOCAL TRAFFIC ONLY!!!!!" -which makes me feel really welcome... with an enhanced view of the kindness of my fellow man. (What absolute assholes.)
Anyway......to relax, I played some solo games of online bowling (which I ADORE- *LINK to be found in the left column here) and tonight racked up one game with 230 points. I'm gettin' better! :) Aaaaaaaaaaand......how about this
If I said, "1903, women press"-- you'd probably think of cast iron irons being heated and applied by professional laundresses in some sweat shop, no doubt......but NO! This is a 1903 picture of women involved in PUBLISHING...actually making BOOKS! Go right here to see a lovely website put together by Princeton University, showcasing the heretofore unknown, but nevertheless thriving story of women and bookbinding. What BEAUTIES in those thumbnails! The designs are exquisite- and the light shone on this barely-known history of women and books -even moreso. Ladies and their arts. I love them!
It's made a rainy, crappy and humid Wednesday so much richer. Thank you, Princeton.
P.S.-More GOOD STUFF!! I just had an email from my faithful online buddy and fellow poet, Stephen Mead. Prepare to be floored......do you love DENNIS HOPPER?- (that quirky, multi-talented, contradictory, always fascinating late actor?) If so, you will be in seventh heaven checking out Flavorwire ~Dennis Hopper. What a talent he was... creative as can be (and controversial so often.) He wore the changing face of an whole part of our cultural past. He wore it with a fidelity that made him seem like a chameleon at times. He grew and grew before he died- for good or ill. That's quite an epitaph.
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
The year is galloping. Amazing how it's dwindling down. There's only five months of 2010 left, and that makes my head spin.
I've been in a semi-depressed frame of mind...and the rest is caped in mystery.
That picture strikes me in an eerie way. Who IS that person and what are they doing, done up like a super-hero (or a vampire)-and wearing those platform white shoes? (It strikes me now......that LOOKS LIKE MY MOTHER! That's why I chose that image. LOL!!) It may be a man with puffy white hair...whoever it is, they're scary to me. Probably some eccentric. Most days, even the terribly ordinary looks mysterious to me-- or misshapen or threatening --at least clouded in secrets and foreboding. I'm caught in the gauze of 'unknowing'...
groping about for something familiar or safe. Sitting here in front of this computer is safe. Driving in my car is not. Reading the news is not- it's always ghastly anymore. The phone rings and I'm convinced it's bad news. My fears grow bigger all the time. I feel isolated and that's different than just being alone, which feels safe-- I feel irreparably cut out of the equation(whatever that equation may be) --I'm not in it. And this line of thinking makes me feel like a jinx of some kind; like a rainmaker, I'm afraid I'll call the lightning and the floods upon us just by dwelling on stuff.
This is a rut, I suppose. A 'bad patch'. I think I need to get off the gerbil wheel for awhile, but I have no vacation scheduled until late September, and I badly need a change of scene now. Work has been very busy. (That's the biggest part of the gerbil wheel) and yes, the routine of visiting my mother 3 times a week and watching her watch her watch, nodding off in the chair, pretending she hears what I'm saying rather than repeating "What? What?" - again and again. The traffic I sit in, those boring queues with dangerously short fuses driving the other cars, looking for opportunities to cut in and out as though we're in a video game instead of vulnerable flesh, sitting inside of deadly metal casing- these things freak me out when I begin to dwell on them.
I can't shake these feelings...thought I'd just write them out. Maybe get some strength from looking at it, listening for the absurdity. Maybe throw on a GREEN CAPE of my own....
Viking hat on my head. I think I'll just picture myself that way. A warrior. Facing it. What I need is a break in the heat that lasts longer than the odd day here and there, so fresh winds can begin blowing cooler and cleaner. I want AUTUMN. I do well in autumn. It's my season. I want to feel chilly enough to begin to think of fire. Fire is rebirth. Fire is the kindled emotions snapping and burning free.
It sounds like a contradiction, but I want this heat to disappear so that it's cool enough to long for fire. Fire is regenerative- it means "Something's COOKING!"- not slowly melting, vulnerably so in this day-after-day miasma of humid, heated air -but crackling bright. Sharp and surprising. Something to warm the inside while the outside is comfortably cool. Let's face it.... this summer has left me both stagnant and downtrodden. Trapped and fretful. I want that to end. Soon.
(Here's how pathetically mopey my mood is.... it's 10 pm at night, but I'm pretending it's already midnight so I can post this and go off to bed. LOL!!) At least there's books. I'm reading the third book in the Millenium Trilogy starring red-hot fictional icon 'Lisbeth Salander'- "The Girl Who Played With Fire" -(this one is called, "The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest") by the now deceased Stieg Larsson, the Swedish novelist who captured the world with his plucky, prickly Goth girl.
Off I go to delve into Swedish secret service intrigue, and the resourceful heroine who breaks all rules. (I've found myself liking the characters less and less with each book. Still, the tale is mesmerizing enough to draw me in.) Hey! It's just like life! G'nite all.
(Had to come back in and add this one link)....this site SUITS MY MOOD TO A TEE! It shows the commonplace, but back far enough in time and with the harsh light of the upper northern hemisphere in December so that it looks TWILIGHT-ZONISH. I love it!! It shows the sense of isolation and weirdness that's imprisoned me recently. I give you...
Anchorage In The 70's What a GREAT SITE! How spooky the past can look when presented this way. When I look at these pictures I feel like an alien who just crawled out of a shiny spaceship from a galaxy far, far away- who's just seeing earth for the first time.... Enjoy! Mr. Cysewski is a marvelous chronicler.
August 4, 2010~ 6:30 am
I've had a busy (stressful? --yes) week so far.
I have SUCH A TALE to tell about my last week and a half's ordeal over mandatory FLOOD INSURANCE (but that's a whole other subject I need to take over to my 'bitch blog'.....as soon as I cool down and process things) ...but I will say that out of sheer desperation I even wrote to New York's Attorney Andrew Cuomo. LOL!! Why? (When I'm a Pennsylvanian?) Because I believe him to be the last honest man in America, and I like the way he takes on BIG INSURANCE companies, that's why. "Go, Cuomo!"
Then there is the TOTAL CLOSURE of the southbound lane of the road I live on- that will continue for at least a month- crippling local businesses and making my 10 minute, straight-shot ride to see my mother at the nursing home a Google Map researched, snaking GOAT TRAIL to get there. Bear in mind that the friendly 'locals' who live on these alternate side streets have painted large, sloppy wooden signs that say, "NOT A THRU WAY! LOCAL TRAFFIC ONLY!!!!!" -which makes me feel really welcome... with an enhanced view of the kindness of my fellow man. (What absolute assholes.)
Anyway......to relax, I played some solo games of online bowling (which I ADORE- *LINK to be found in the left column here) and tonight racked up one game with 230 points. I'm gettin' better! :) Aaaaaaaaaaand......how about this
If I said, "1903, women press"-- you'd probably think of cast iron irons being heated and applied by professional laundresses in some sweat shop, no doubt......but NO! This is a 1903 picture of women involved in PUBLISHING...actually making BOOKS! Go right here to see a lovely website put together by Princeton University, showcasing the heretofore unknown, but nevertheless thriving story of women and bookbinding. What BEAUTIES in those thumbnails! The designs are exquisite- and the light shone on this barely-known history of women and books -even moreso. Ladies and their arts. I love them!
It's made a rainy, crappy and humid Wednesday so much richer. Thank you, Princeton.
P.S.-More GOOD STUFF!! I just had an email from my faithful online buddy and fellow poet, Stephen Mead. Prepare to be floored......do you love DENNIS HOPPER?- (that quirky, multi-talented, contradictory, always fascinating late actor?) If so, you will be in seventh heaven checking out Flavorwire ~Dennis Hopper. What a talent he was... creative as can be (and controversial so often.) He wore the changing face of an whole part of our cultural past. He wore it with a fidelity that made him seem like a chameleon at times. He grew and grew before he died- for good or ill. That's quite an epitaph.
(Return To Weekly Archives)
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