Wednesday, August 25, 2010

The Crossing






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It could always be worse than it is right now.





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I try not to lose sight of that, but it's hard to keep it in focus. Like remembering the fact of my own mortality, it requires constant reminders to keep from letting it just drift away over the horizon, like a message in a bottle that no one wants to read.


Bye, bye, my mortality! Write when you get work!








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I am embarked upon a period of deep dissatisfaction with the way I am conducting my life, with who I am allowing myself to become. I hope that it will engender a change in my behavior that might result in changing course, but I am not optimistic about that outcome.

Ah, geeze. Listen to me.


What a fucking crybaby.



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But whatever the reason, I am mired. I cain't get unstuck. I won't.


I'm going to sit in the dirt and draw with a stick and not budge until the world burns away.



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What are you up to?



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Namaste.



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14 Comments:

Blogger Vespersparrow said...

Perhaps someone you don't know will sit in the dirt beside you, with their own stick, and you can just sit together for a while, quietly, and maybe a little strength will pass between you. I don't know. I just got here.

6:16 PM  
Anonymous Penelope said...

Yes, and some others of us will gather around with our own sticks, not always saying much, but present. That's seems to be the way of it these days.

6:35 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Vesper Sparrow-

Welcome!

I'm glad for the company. I've got another stick around here somewhere...


Thanks for stopping by, and for the offer of companionship. Hope you'll make yourself at home.


yrs-


tearful

6:38 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Penelope-

There's lots of room.


Seriously, thanks for the kindness. Glad to see you here.


yrs-


tearful

6:39 PM  
Blogger Elisabeth said...

Don't give up...Peter gabriel says it and Tracy Chapman say it well.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AhVrtzxeRw4

4:55 AM  
Blogger Marylinn Kelly said...

The news fails to report it but I swear we are in the grip of an epidemic of uncertainty. Or perhaps we are just a few. Meanwhile, as long as there is room for one more, I will bring my stick and join you.

8:35 AM  
Blogger susan t. landry said...

i am thrilled with the korean film suggestions!

i hear you about Gen Kill; but, for the past several years i have been obsessed with 'reality.' read mostly nonfiction, can barely read fiction. i dont know what it is. i fantasize about slipping inside the membrane of a cell, looking around. i think it's just the flip side of what you talk about sometimes, of finding a way to come to terms with it all.

thanx for everything.

9:01 AM  
Blogger Marylinn Kelly said...

I needed to say that none of my comments has been intended to trivialize your experience by saying that others may be going through similar things.

2:05 PM  
Blogger 21k said...

Personally, not up to much. Nothing worth mentioning. Just stopping in for a glass of wine and stuff.

be well

3:31 PM  
Blogger T. Clear said...

Eating one of my three tomatoes from my harvest of three tomatoes.

6:51 PM  
Blogger Maggie May said...

i've been mired in physical pain which has triggered my severe anxiety and so the entire world, color sound and feeling, has altered for me, and everything is harder and scarier and i hold mr. curry every chance i can.
i pray. i wait for this to pass and look at my children and say thank you.

9:37 PM  
Blogger Radish King said...

Your art grabs me by the scruff of my neck and shakes me hard and look at the child look look look and there are secrets in his eyes and she knows more than we do and the rain on the peninsula behind the way rain looks across the sound when you know it's coming your way.

It's the full moon. It's Mercury. It's cell salts. It's raw. It's human.

Sometimes I stand in the dirt in my garden and whisper secrets through the tall fence to the severely autistic man who lives there. I think he understands me. He has never answered but I sometimes put tomatoes or flowers on top of the fence and I'll see his hand fast like an animal grab whatever gift I have left him. He's my son's age. We have never met even after 20 years but I hear him howling and swinging on his big wooden swing and it sounds like a song to me it sounds animal and pure to me.

I have felt lately like I've been reconnected to my missing twin with my brother around. This feeling is astonishing.

I'm so lucky to have 2 Scotts in my life.

love,
Rebecca

7:37 AM  
Blogger dottie kee bones said...

this post made me laugh now and a couple of days ago. i'm pretty sure it was the

what a fucking crybaby.


that actually did it.


thanks.

(:

7:12 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

love you mothers.


i am glad of you here.



Rebecca, if I have won you as a fan of my art, I have done something fine.


You are a wonder.




Dottie-


Glad i made you laugh! You can't get too much of that stuff.

6:05 PM  

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