Chaplinesque

We will make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random consolations
As the wind deposits
In slithered and too ample pockets.

For we can still love the world, who find
A famished kitten on the step, and know
Recesses for it from the fury of the street,
Or warm torn elbow coverts.

We will sidestep, and to the final smirk
Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb
That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us,
Facing the dull squint with what innocence
And what surprise!

And yet these fine collapses are not lies
More than the pirouettes of any pliant cane;
Our obsequies are, in a way, no enterprise.
We can evade you, and all else but the heart:
What blame to us if the heart live on.

The game enforces smirks; but we have seen
The moon in lonely alleys make
A grail of laughter of an empty ash can,
And through all sound of gaiety and quest
Have heard a kitten in the wilderness.

—Hart Crane

The Talk of Flowers

I do not know, whether the sun
accomplished it,
the rain or wind –
but I was missing so
the whiteness and the snow.

I listened to the rustling
of spring rain,
washing the reddish buds
of chestnut-trees, –
and a tiny spring ran down
into the valley from the hill –
and I was missing
the whiteness
and the snow.

And in the yards, and on the slopes
red-cheeked
village maidens
hung up the washings
blown over by the wind
and, leaning,
stared a long while
at the yellow tufts of sallow:

For love is like the wind,
And love is like the water –
it warms up with the spring,
and freezes over – in the autumn.
But to me, I don't know why,
whether the sun
accomplished it,
the rain or wind –
but I was missing so
the whiteness and the snow.

I know – the wind
will blow and blow the washings,
and the rain
will wash and wash the chestnut-trees, –
but love, which melted with
the snow –
will not return.

Deep below the snow sleep
words and feelings:
for today, watching
the dance of rain between the door –
the rain of spring! –
I saw another:

she walked by in the rain,
and beautiful she was,
and smiled:

For love is like the wind,
and love is like the water –
it warms up with the spring
and freezes over – in the autumn,
though to me, I don't know why,
whether the sun
accomplished it,
the rain or wind –
but I was missing so
the whiteness and the snow.

—Jonas Mekas
(Translated by Clark Mills)

and then I wake up and I thank God that He's ignored my prayers again

Saw my therapist yesterday even though the check will bounce. Told me to go immediately to the emergency room at the hospital on the other side of the highway (the one where He works). PTSD, depressive vegetative state. I have no health insurance, no savings, no credit. No one knows. The only thing I am still capable of feeling beyond this unrelenting fear is shame.

Confession

Doubts about my sanity lately. Not really, but kinda. Been going days without sleeping, then sleeping for days. Falling asleep sitting up, 4 hours after sleeping for 18 hours. Then sleeping for 12 more hours.

I feel so overwhelmed and unable to deal. I can't even break my burdens down anymore. It's all one big solid chunk of immovable granite. No baby steps because my feet are hobbled. No "one bite at a time" because my appetite is gone. Tomorrow is never another day because it's always today, always the same failures, only the leaves on the trees outside my window ever change. I keep reminding myself that none of this matters. People don't matter and are always replaced, places don't matter because you make do with wherever you end up, animals....animals still matter, but they're not supposed to because they're just animals.

I am sick of my sorrow, sick of my need, sick of feeling like I'm special because I'm so lonely and afraid and in so much trouble. I am sick of my inability to rally my strength for any sustained period of time. I'm sick of feeling ashamed of being a sucker, a dupe. I hate my apparently endless capacity to love and forgive. I hate my hatred. I hate that I'm not afraid of my death anymore. I hate that I don't have life insurance. I hate knowing that I'd do it all over again despite knowing that it will always end the same way. I hate that I get credit for doing the things that come easy to me because it just makes me hate myself even more for being such an utter failure at the easy tasks in life. I can't answer my phone. I can't open my mail.  I can't pick up that piece of paper. I can't get out of bed. I can't stop crying. I feel hollow, I feel shut down, I feel like I don't care anymore, but that can't be true because I am still crying. I hate how much I miss my sister-in-law and my nephew and my brother-in-law and his wife, because I hate the way my idiotic fear of hearing a single word about D's wonderful new life makes me unable to pick up the phone and call them. It doesn't matter. Of course he's happy. Of course he's moved on. Of course I never meant a damn thing. So what? Big deal, happens every day, world without end. Move along. Nothing to see here. I hate that my emotions are impervious to my intellect. My mind is mighty, my heart is a grinning gullible fool. Lie to me, I promise I'll believe.

I would give all of myself to make things right, to follow through, to show up, to get this done. But there's nothing left of me. I'm hollowed out, my insides are scraped clean, and I have nothing to show for it. My efforts to build my life only served to knock it down. I have so much, I know I do. I've been so blessed, but it's barely in my grasp now. My grip is failing. I should just let go, but I never will. I hate that I am only stubborn up to a point.

I am so fucking sick of myself. This is all just noise. I am ashamed of these words. But notice I still click "Post."

I know what you're trying to say

In January we lost power in the upstairs bathroom (the one with the working shower) and most of the upstairs power outlets. Consequently, showering has been an exquisitely uncomfortable experience -- this house hasn't had central heat since.....I don't even remember. Six years? Seven? At any rate, we have basically been showering in a bathroom that is ridiculously close to outdoor temps. Showering in the dark is less than fun as well.

Anyhoooo, I was heading in to shower a couple of months ago, and I decided I was going to be super tough and not let the cold misery affect me. It was nighttime, so I lit a bunch of tea light candles all around the bathroom, pondering how I never could have imagined I'd have so much in common with a Japanese snow monkey.

At one point during my shower, I happened to glance down at myself (something I never seem to do except when I am deforesting my legs) and noticed that steam was rising from my skin like smoke. Suddenly it was like looking at an image of a landscape instead of my own body -- the way my wet skin shined, the way my curves were lit with coronas of golden candlelight against pitch-black surroundings, and the steam flickering everywhere like pale flames. For the very first time in my (then) 35 years, I was looking at my body and finding it simply and honestly beautiful. Not in a sexual way -- when I look down I can't see much past the boobs, for one thing -- but in a kind of Earth-mother way, owning my curves, my fat, my abundance, my comforting softness. "I know I'm a good person and worthy, and this is the package in which I am wrapped."

It was incredibly fleeting, yet it only took a few long seconds for the cultural conditioning to come crashing down around me -- obese women are not a hot commodity, not a standard for any kind of beauty. I'm not beautiful or desirable or cherished. Simple truth. That golden moment was brief, but it was profound, and I am incredibly grateful for it. It felt good to accept myself without any judgment, like a huge me-shaped weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

The memory of It resides in a glass trophy box on a shelf in my mind -- I can view it any time I like, but the fact remains that the true substance of that moment is gone forever behind a piece of glass, in plain sight but inaccessible to me in any meaningful way. I can't touch it now. Maybe someday I will. Maybe in another 35 years.

Fin. Sorry for the overshare. I had to get that out.

Sort out the recycling.

It's business time.

Say NO to SOCIALISM

Source

This morning I was awoken by my alarm clock, powered by electricity generated by the public power monopoly regulated by the US Department of Energy. I then took a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility. After that, I turned on the TV to one of the FCC-regulated channels to see what the National Weather Service of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration determined the weather was going to be like, using satellites designed, built, and launched by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. I watched this while eating my breakfast of US Department of Agriculture inspected food and taking the drugs that have been determined as safe by the Food and Drug Administration.

At the appropriate time, as regulated by the US congress and kept accurate by the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the US Naval Observatory, I get into my National Highway Traffic Safety Administration approved automobile and set out to work on the roads built by the local, state, and federal departments of transportation -- possibly stopping to purchase additional fuel of a quality level determined by the Environmental Protection Agency, using legal tender issued by the Federal Reserve Bank. On the way out the door, I deposit any mail I have to be sent out via the US Postal Service and drop the kids off at the public school.

After work, I drive my NHTSA car back home on the DOT roads, to a house that has not burned down in my absence because of the state and local building codes and the fire marshal's inspection, and which has not been plundered of all its valuables thanks to the local police department.

I then log onto the internet, which was developed by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Administration, and post on freerepublic.com and Fox News forums about how SOCIALISM in medicine is BAD because the government can't do anything right.

Today was a good day.

I had plans with My Little AED, and we both overslept. Hee. She stopped by to pick me up at noon, and we headed out to Mimosa Studios to finish the projects we began last May (shut up). AED still had a lot of work to do on Gnorma the Gnome, and I needed to put the finishing touches on the ceramic keepsake box thingy that I plan to use to store my Keeper.

From last year:

Miracle of miracles:  THE GNOME IS FINISHED. So is my Keeper Keeper.  We were joined at our table by a random girl child who wasn't much for talking but really enjoyed painting the hell out of a giraffe. I had a great time and wish I could paint ceramics for a living. Since I finished my Keeper Keeper well ahead of the gnome. AED ordered me to paint something for her to display on her desk at work. She briefly considered a ceramic snake but then decided on a fat little dragon. She gave me some vague color instructions and then got back to work on Gnorma's gnardening gloves. The little dragon ended up being bright teal with "orchid' paw  pads and ears, and his tummy and his....spines along his back? received pride rainbow stripes. I have to admit, he turned out really friggin' cute. However, since Kiki wasn't with us today, we completely forgot to take pictures. S'okay. You'll see them when they're ready.

P.S.  I feel I must confess to Toasty that while I did remember to retrieve the bowl she completed last May, I promptly left it on the table at Mimosa and didn't realize it until after we'd left. But it looks really great! AED and I were very impressed. We'll pick it up for real next week, I promise!

By then we were hungry, so we headed over to the Paradox Cafe, where AED so kindly treated me to a delicious lunch/dinner, over which we discussed such topics as why it's acceptable to pick a small fruit fly out of your food and still eat the food but finding a human hair is completely intolerable. Also AED drank an entire pitcher of water, as she is traveling through the desert tomorrow.

Our last stop was at the Yarn Garden. Never in a million years did I ever think I'd be a person who enjoyed shopping for string, but life is full of surprises. I LOVE YARN. After much browsing and discussion, AED bought some possum yarn, and away we went!

Now I am texting with B, my awesome neighbor, about....stuff. AED, if you read this, he's going to be out of town this weekend, so sooner would be better.

Good night!

Senito aliquos togatos contra me conspirare.

We're getting real close, but I'm waiting to call Official Rock Bottom for when I lose my house.

Only remaining theory: Karmic debt.

Exempli gratia, I was a horrible, horrible person in a past life. Possibly Attila the Hun, but more likely Maximillien Robespierre.