Sunday, June 29, 2008

This morning I read a review of a Frank O'Hara compilation. I am awful tired of the top 10 poets and the deconstruction of their lives/work/drinking habits, etc. There are, apparently, no decent women except for the usual Bishop or Emily footnote. Women do better if we are a. crazy, b. suicidal, c. "write like a man (whatever that means), or d. some combination of the above.

And don't get me started about poetry readings, the small local kind. It is discouraging.

Ok, moving on. "The morning is bright and clear (and hot as hell)". We are in a bi-polar weather pattern; cold, expecting snow or 95 degrees. The lettuce doesn't have the good sense to bolt. Not yet anyway.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Last night Pat brought an incredible poem, spare and gorgeous. She is a soprano. And Martha's poem made me cry. I don't choke up when I read poetry. It was vivid and there was longing and loss and stained glass and ritual and Martha was wearing lavender and white, even her watch had a lavender band. Oh, I am so happy to be in such company. Rebecca was delightful, as usual, and she could probably open a restaurant. I would come and eat crunchy bread with tapanade, basil, tomatoes and goat cheese. And all the other things she makes for us. We missed Kelly and Laura.

Today in yoga, the teacher had a silent class, no talking. Every time we were to change position, he rang the bell. I had to keep looking at him to see what he was doing. We were all sitting cross legged and we were to bend over. A few people could actually put their foreheads on the floor, including the old lady beside me. Sheesh. But when we were doing shoulder stands, when she came down out of the pose, she ripped a very loud fart. It was beautiful. She may be able to bend in half but sphincter control, ha! I know I'm being petty but I don't care. The vinyasa lady from my very first class was there and she was ridiculous. Show-off. She did a head stand and some impossible thing tilting her body sky-ward while bending and balancing on her ELBOWS. And she didn't fart. Not once.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

my downstairs neighbor is getting louder and louder. her voice comes up through the floor. I think she sits by a vent and talks real loud so we will be driven insane. it is working. I go on retreat next week, a silent retreat. Pure bliss, silence, except for the voices. Usually on day 2 of a retreat, my mind entertains itself with old show tunes and entire scripts from movies. Really.

"I love Maude"

"And I love you, Harold."

(throws trinket into the water)

"Why did you do that?!"

"So I'll always know where it is..."


Tuesday, June 24, 2008

I live in the walls. Between the studs. I stay away from electricity.


Sigmund Freud

Monday, June 23, 2008

My downstairs neighbor is moving out. This is very good. She has left a burner on and I came home to the smoke detector going off and all the animals had wads of toilet paper in their ears. Then after we told her we were giving her notice, she mentioned that some sparks came out of an outlet after she plugged in her ancient toaster. No wonder it was on the curb. And only a little smoke up the wall. Now she moans and bangs around down there, punctuated by yelps and cussing.

I like the word 'cuss'. It has a friendly sound to it. Different from curse or blaspheme. You can cuss and belch and drink beer and snort a luggy.

All my house is disordered. I can' t find anything and I don't seem to have any energy to make any changes. I have to clean out my studio, my closets and throw a lot of s**t away. A lot. I think it would make me feel better. And I could paint my office. The yellow in here is too aggressive. Where are my mother's pearls? Where is the jewelry I hid? If I take in a few more cats, it will be clear, I have lost it.

Lola peed on my meditation cushion. Why o why? What is the message o cat of mystery? See how tolerant I am? I didn't even throw anything at her. Truth to tell, I don't know it was her. Maybe it was a stranger cat who comes in and hides my mother's pearls and pees on stuff.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

I survived the overnight walk. Along the way we were told we were 'almost there'. I hate that. Unless I can SEE the finish line, we are not almost there, for cripes sake. We walked along a lane of luminarias with pictures and letters to dead people, all suicides. It was difficult, more difficult than what we had just done. Marti and I sat down in front of Geoff's luminaria and she took out her bag with her sister's picture on it and we hugged and cried.

There were too many dead people, too many.

I slept until 3PM today. There are blisters on my left foot. Sometimes all I want is to be left alone.

Eden is going to Amman, Jordan for 2 weeks on a shoot. She goes everywhere.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Today I saw the man with one leg walking around on two legs. Maybe it is a miracle and he woke up in the morning and his leg magically appeared or re-grew overnight. He usually stands by the Safeway parking lot with a sign. I saw him sleeping in a doorway and later, there he was, two legs and two shoes, one for each foot.

No one in my family is missing any body parts or digits or anything. Well, except for appendixes and wisdom teeth. We were all taught not to stare. You know, the little kids that stand and STARE at you so hard you are sure all your hair has fallen out and you didn't notice or you have magic marker all over your face or you are hideously scarred but forgot to put your mask on like phantom of the opera.

The crows were looking morose today. They were hanging out on the garage roof, just standing around. They complain a lot whenever I am in the yard, minding my own business. They must have a nest nearby. I have never seen a baby crow, come to think of it. Are they cute in their crowishness? Is their cawing more high pitched?

I watched Harold and Maude yesterday with Holly. She kept saying 'oh, g-d, I hope they don't have sex, it'll be ruined'. I couldn't bring myself to tell her...and on the eve of the suicide walk, I thought, how appropriate, numerous fake suicides and one real one, all in an hour and a half. Nice going, psyche.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

tonight I taught a class in a livingroom full of bunnies. there were 3 bunnies and they hopped around and nibbled on kale and an apple. the boy bunny was black and white and softer than Lola. they are litter box trained. I felt a little like Alice. I fell down a long way and never came back. now I want some rabbits. although Lupine would attack and eat them so I better not.
o moon o gimormous orb o plod yer way through the fizzy grapestems.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

today was glorious so I went for a (sic) hike. there was so much snow the trails were buried. hilarious to watch the families with dogs and babies in backpacks struggling along. most wearing sneakers and tee-shirts. father's day and all. I fell down a few times but mostly slid along. here and there the trail was clear and there was a pool with a large chunk of ice floating in it, skunk cabbage coming up and ringed with trillium, so much later than the city. the creek was booming over the rocks. then I went to yoga and did a shoulder stand, all by myself. it seems wrong to be looking at my thighs upside down. however, the teacher was very nice to me while I wobbled around. I love my yoga teacher. she talks about Hindu saints and she sings to us. she didn't put eye pillows on our eyes today. I was a little disappointed but I got over it.

Apparently, underneath my brother's death is my MOTHER. gawd, not again.

Wishbone has gotten into an unhealthy relationship with a neighborhood cat. his ear is all bloody and he complains when I treat it. then I squirt antibiotic in his mouth. he hates me.

Monday, June 09, 2008

the wind is blowing a 100 miles an hour and it is SNOWiNG in the pass, ha! Mount Baker neighborhood is all dark too, I know because I had to drive to UW again because I left my glasses there, gawd. trees down, the whole magilla. weather is awesome the way it just arrives and we have to deal with floods, tornadoes, endless rain etc. and all the ways humans have tried to navigate or control the weather like we actually could. preposterous, really. except that we warmed things up a bit and woohoo, look what happened.

I sit in a little room and talk to people all day about babies. it is a bit odd kind of job. occasionally, I go out and watch a baby come out of a woman. crazy, I tell you. babies are pretty fine, all their equipment ready to go, they just have to get bigger and they start working on that right away, looking for things to suck on, fingers, nipples, noses, whatever sticks out. they are always on the hunt for milk that tastes very sweet and lo and behold, very sweet milk comes out of their very own mother, how convenient. I am often impressed with their singleness of purpose. go, babies, go.

Sunday, June 08, 2008

Shhhhhhh, the s.u.n is out, don't say the word out loud, you'll scare it. I'm going for a walk in the s.u.n, with s.u.n glasses on, omg.

Today is the day I write a mint poem. It is going to be brilliant. And so minty.

Friday, June 06, 2008

I got two poems accepted to 21 Stars, yeah! This makes me pleased, happy, glad, life is worth living etc.

A nice person in my suicide group has offered to give me some of her checks to make up the difference in my pathetic fund drive. Then we're walkin' 20 miles, from Seattle Center to Seattle Center, wha? I haven't seen the route but I bet we will wander downtown aimlessly, wearing headlamps and camelbacks. Eventually we end up at the fountain. I'm supposed to decorate a paper bag for a luminaria. I think I will put sequins on it. My brother was so not a sequin kind of guy. I might wear a feather boa however.

Josh sent me a poem about mint. I might try to write about mint. I'm turning over a new leaf, so to speak. I'm going to write garden poems now. Nice poems, I can too, I can write some kind poems that are not full of razors and blackened fingernails. The ones you hit with a hammer, the hammer you used in the garden to smash the dandelions, no wait, that's not it. I'm going to try really hard, I can change, I can.

Thursday, June 05, 2008

Tonight Rebecca fed us blueberry cobbler that was so good, I wanted to take the pan and a spoon and go sit in my car and eat the whole thing. Shamelessly.

Josh wrote a poem about fava plants and it was gorgeous, sad and wistful. I told him I am going to write a garden poem. I mean it, I am done with suicide/accident/trauma poems. Like the one I brought tonight. Kelly wasn't there and I missed her. I always miss her when she doesn't show up.

More tornadoes expected. Seattle just gets buckets of rain and glowering skies. We have been bad, very, very bad to deserve this. In Syracuse it rains this much but that is because the honkies stole salt from the Iroquois and they were pissed so they cursed the city with endless rain. Seems only fair.

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

I went to see Young @ Heart, a movie about old people in a choir, not just any choir either. They 'cover' Talking Heads, Coldplay and James Brown. When they did I Feel Good, the crowd went wild. Their average age is 82 or something. The oldest member (92) said if she ever died onstage, they should just haul her off and keep singing.

The suicide walk is in 2 weeks and I haven't raised all the money yet. I am so lame. One member of my support group has raised $13,000!!!! I can't even raise $1000. Gawd, why is is I don't have rich friends?

I watched Barack give his acceptance speech last night. We are going to have a smart, kind, decent black president, as I live and breathe. Unbelievable. He was even nice to Hillary. How is it that some people seem trustworthy and sincere? If John McCain gets in, I'm going to Canada.

Sunday, June 01, 2008

I found a squirrel tail on the floor in the cellar, next to the washing machine. I think it is a sign. I wonder where the rest of the squirrel is. The cats are looking particularly pleased with themselves tonight.

I hiked Rattlesnake Ridge today. The green made my eyes water. There were many dogs, straining at their leashes. Whenever I heard choking and huffing, I knew another dog was behind me, attached to a human. At the top of the ridge, I ate almonds and squinted my eyes like John Muir must have done, off in the distance at all the fuzzy mountains and terrible trees. Then I swooshed out my primo walking sticks and caroused down again. I must make many more trips to the forest. Large pieces of nature everywhere.