Saturday, October 02, 2010

Disorderly

Minnie Lipke, May 1967

*

They tied her to a tree with a skinny millionaire.


*


The band is going home,
its raining hammers,
its raining nails.




*



Its quiet here. Tom Waits is singing to himself in the corner saloon, and the dog is snoring. The stove gleams like brand new teeth.


I have found a measure of stillness.



*

I was a melancholy child and have grown up to be not much removed from that stance. I love melancholy. To me it means that you are in love with what is passing away, moment by moment.


And I am in love with it.


I hate to see it go, and I always watch as it recedes.


*



Tomorrow I head down south to visit the Wild Woman of Borneo. She's in captivity, which is when it is safe to try to pat her on the head and feed her a hunk of raw meat.



She seems to be doing well, despite her unhappiness there.




*



I would hand her my beating heart if it would save her.





*



Last week some tweakers in our town beat a fifteen year old girl to death and dumped her on the side of the road and set her on fire.




I guess they were sick of her shit.






*



It makes my hands want to break something.



*



I love being alive.



You don't have to take it from me.



Not yet, anyways.



Not yet.



*



Namaste.



***

11 Comments:

Blogger handandspiritstudio said...

Give her a giant hug from me.

7:10 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Will do, baby.

8:50 PM  
Blogger Jaye Ramsey Sutter said...

tell her I love her.

As for the 15 year old in the ditch...a few years ago a cop I was in law school with told me that while looking for a beautiful missing woman he stopped in to talk to a bartender. He said, look no offense but why would a beautiful woman like this work here? Why would a beautiful woman go missing like this?

The bar tender said, "no matter who they are, what they look like--someone, somewhere is tired of their shit."

We are a handful, we women, but no one, ever, deserves to die in a ditch. No shit could be that bad.

I am please to meet you through your writing.

10:12 PM  
Anonymous nursemyra said...

RIP little 15 year old girl

2:02 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Jaye-

No one on earth deserves what happens to them. Maybe that goes for the good parts, too. I don't know.

yrs-

tearful

2:14 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Nurse Myra-

Yes. Amen to that.


PS-

You are twisted.


Just thought I'd say, in case you thought I hadn't noticed.

yrs-

tearful

2:15 PM  
Blogger Maggie May said...

oh nooooo

oh nooo

............

that is not bearable.

8:33 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Maggie-

No, it isn't.


Sorrow is everywhere, there's no safe place. You know the secret though, I know you give yourself to it.

Love.


yrs-


tearful

10:45 PM  
Blogger Ms. Moon said...

If there is no safe place, does that mean that being fearful is an exercise of futility?

1:50 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Ms. Moon-

Of course being fearful is an exercise in futility.

That being said, however, I don't know that any one of us is capable of letting go of our treasured fearfulness.

But it points the way for us, perhaps.



I don't know. I'm still afraid of dying, of losing my wife, my daughter, all the ten thousand things.


They'll be torn from me, or I from them.

The dark beast roams through the sunlit world and eats his fill.


Stuff like that.


I'm going to shut up now. I'm real, real glad we crossed paths.


yrs-


Scott

2:00 PM  
Blogger Petit fleur said...

The way children are becoming disconnected from their humanity is beyond description and expression.

To say it is frightening or sad or wretchedly cruel and cold doesn't begin to cover it.

Safe Passage little girl.
Peace,
pf

6:01 AM  

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