momma-san

it was so nice stepping in and upon your wooden floors barefoot just now. your house smells of the most lovely images my heart can imagine. as I stood out on your balcony with your watering can I saw the soil consume the small rain that poured. it made me smile Momma-San. there I stood watering your soil while you now walk upon mine in Gettysburg. How fitting is that? You and Nana roam around with your eyes coating that place which I love most. with the amount of water my eyes have stored up I could have easily kept that soil damp for you, but ironically while within your walls it was the only time mine eyes went completely dry.

I stood at the doorway upon departure, hesitating. I didn't want to go. The only allure outside that door for me was the forest in the distance that seemed to beckon. I love that one must drive through a small chaotic jungle before being spewed out to the expanse of the sea that is your backyard essentially...little Momma-San in my mind we embrace.

[that is not a pic of Momma's balcony]

not everything has a title

Strange dreams. Never daylight. I went through the actions of your day, only with my cast. I woke up this morning abruptly. No reason...and just as soon as I was jolted awake I felt a tight grip around the jugular. There it stays, apparently only tightening as the minutes go on. At this point tears sit at the edges of the eyes waiting to take flight.

I'll never be normal

plain and simple. so why should I be surprised that when I went down to bed just now and a bottle of my favorite "extinct" oil the hill woman made fell and crashed into the sink....spraying the freshly cleaned white sprakling bathroom I slaved over for 2 hours today in the muggiest heat....why should I be surprised that I picked up a shard of that glass and ran it along my arm to appease the chaos of that horrid sight. dark brown oil splattered over everything: my fresh white rug I had just placed down moments before after I took it out of the dryer, the floor, the walls, the sink, the mirror, the counters, the objects, and me.

and then the deepr pain which is starting to make me insane. and all for what? what will come of it and the distance? I'm making myself suffer - why can't I stop it. I had no idea I had it this bad...no fucking idea. it's been 14 years since I last made a cut....14 years, divide that in half ... 7...7 years....the 7 year cycle..I hate the number 7...and it would always be 7....I need to go back to the numbness. numb. number.

no words for strangers

...especially those who lack class. Yesterday I was standing third in line for the ladies room at a bar and the two "women" in front of me weren't holding their liquor very well lets just say. The second lady kept half squatting - doing the potty dance, or what have you and shouting loudly to the woman in the bathroom, then went up and starting pulling hard on the locked bathroom door, shaking it in its frame. I was astonished and embarrassed to even bare witness to this.

She then looked at me and said something I couldn't decipher and laughed. I just stood still and fluttered my eyelids saying ".....hmmmm...do you know that woman in there?" To which she flung her hand out at me as if to swat something in the air between our faces and said "heavens no....mummmmble mummm" to which I again said "hmmmmm" and smiled courteously at her and turned my head away to shield a smile from bursting into a laugh. Then she started discussing the possibility that the bathroom wouldn't have a pleasing scent judging from the length of time it had been occupied thus far...only her wording was not very lady-like I can assure you.

You MUST be kidding me I thought to myself. Then I started scanning my eyes over the other inhabitants of the bar and my throat dropped to my stomach in despair. "A whole other breed" I thought sadly to myself. Then suddenly the lady is reaching out and touching my hair and I squint my eyes and smile at her. "OH I WISH I HAD SUCH CUTE HAIR" she shouted in my face. "Well, we always want what we can't have so we better make the best of what we do have right?" I said. She just looked at me.

Then I quickly turned my head to see who just nudged me rudely and sloppily from behind and there stood this "voluptuous" woman who had made herself quite noticeable earlier on the dance floor by her "sexy/neauseating" movements. She stood looking up at me and said some senseless BS to which I could come up with nothing to say. Then she said "once you break the seal! There's not stopping it". I started gagging immediately and looked the other way and thank GOD it was finally my turn to use the ladies room!!!!

drive-thru banking

The other day as I peeled into my banks parking lot I noticed the lot was full of cars (due to the chaos of a recent merger and buyout of the local chain) and the drive-thru only had about 5 cars in it. Obvious choice was the drive-thru where I could at least chill to my tunes instead of standing in a long line under Kenny G musak.

A little over a half an hour later it's my turn at the drive-up window. I wait....and wait...then start yelling silly things at the speaker because the bank was flooded inside and all of the employees had their backs to the window. I wait...., then I screamed jokingly at the top of my lungs "I'm getting very ANGRY out here...hahahaha!!!" - to which a lady inside turned abruptly around and leaned over to the microphone, clicked her little button and informed me "Ma-am, we are VERY busy helping other customers, we are doing the best we can and would appreciate your patience".

I started laughing really hard while rolling up all of my windows as if that would shield me somehow from their stares inside. How embarrassing...

dropkicking words

I had all the words bundled up in my arms but I just dropped them, and I don't have the energy to gather them up again. Don't care to do much else but wait for the words you will offer me. Thats where my happiness lay. It isn't supposed to be this way.

It's always late at night ... when I'm moments from running away. I made a mistake when I inked my fathers name on my back....where one could only see it as I depart. I had put it there to remind myself who I am....and who not to be. I guess that ink didn't seep into my bloodstream because it's still my father's untainted blood running through my veins ... which I can do nothing about in the end.

I'd like to meet him now to see if he's learned from his mistakes. All I need is a handful of minutes. I don't even want to sit down - we can just stand in the doorway. ... I know I won't care what he says because nothing will help me now. I should go and look for those words and kick them deep in the corners ... out of sight.

gone

when I woke up this morning my little belly was empty. all those little birds flew away without me. empty. don't want to put anything in there to replace them either. no appetite. can't eat.

I am

FUCKING DYING.
oops - didn't mean the all caps.
too much caffeine.
too many thoughts.
banged my head really hard by accident and have felt off-balance ever since.
my heart races too fast - I can't catch up - it takes away my breath.
I have words that I cannot share.
...keep them inside - where they fester - and haunt me.
the loud music is coarsing though my veins like speed.
a small guilt is brewing inside and nagging at me.
[omitted]
[omitted]
[omitted]
it shouldn't be this way.
I'd like to bury my head.
pour the dirt over me now.
maybe i'll crawl back into the hallowed ground this weekend.
back from whence I came.

finally

...the day has come to pack the car for Gettysburg. To think I started this blog only a year ago right after I returned from that last trip there. This time we'll head down to Charlestown and Harper's Ferry for a day as well. I need to find a photo gig that allows me to just travel to Civil War battlefields/landmarks for the rest of my days.

It's starting to trip me out owning a home. It just feels like I'm playing grownup for a while. I told the hubs yesterday that if it doesn't work here, I'm already to leave. He said that of course I was, because I'm not happy no matter where I am. So true...so true.

Somewhere in there I have the soul of a gypsy and staying in one place too long makes me severely suffocated. That's why I need to take constant road trips, explore the world. I'm only truly happy then: the kind that dampens the sides of your eyes when you shut them in the dizziness of bliss.

I already feel their feathered wings beating against my rib cage, ready for flight, ready to carry me off. The three little blue birds in my belly...they're really there

summer

There's nothing quite as charming as summer on the east coast in my eyes:

Walking barefoot on warm grass.

Warm evenings with no need to layer up due to the incorrigible fog rolling in over the mountains.

Hazy, humid, languid days that press upon and stretch you out to a peaceful yet ecstatic point of bliss.

Freckles surfacing in the sun, coating me in that far away feeling of youth.

Smiles on strangers faces because they've crawled out of winter's hibernation.

Lush green life devouring the landscape.

Sundresses, skirts, sandals...wearing next to nothing on your glistening skin...

The orange-pink sun dipping into the horizon late in the evening, casting the warmest glow over the land.

Fireflies quietly igniting the darkest shadows.

Refreshing summer flavored cocktails outdoors until the wee hours with friends.

Crickets outside of your open window at night, lulling you off to the most pleasant of dreams.

brown and allen

We went and saw James Brown last night. Electric. He's 73 (I believe) and still gettin' down onstage. What a lively audience. We sat in the 8th row so we had a good look at his large ensemble, his backup singers, dancers, his glittery smiley self. We sat behind 3 tiny silver clouds of hair, it was all you could see above their seats, so tiny these little old ladies, and once the music blared they were groovin' just as much as everyone else, if not more...what a sight!

Quite a contrast to Woody Allen and his New Orleans jazz band the night before, as they sat languidly in a row of chairs an hour and a half. Old tyme music made me shake my shoulders back and forth as we sat but Hubby informed me that I was shaking the whole row so I tried to redirect that energy into my right knee. The crowd was frozen rows of white hair, gold jewelry, sports-jackets, and comb-overs.

James' crowd was studded with zoot suits and fancy canes, all colors of men's fedoras, shiny solid ties tucked under pinstriped wide shouldered jackets, wide brimmed ladies hats and hair braided with strings of golden brightness. Shoulder-padded ladies jackets and shimmery fabrics all pushing tightly upon each-other as there was a mad rush for the entrance only minutes before the show.

Shame on my lack of solidarity when I followed the crowd in silence while Woody's band walked out single file on stage amidst the quiet and then the crowd blew up once they saw him trail out second to last. It hurt my heart and I refused to clap for him. I saved my emphatic claps for the banjo solo's and chuckled after Woody's fluttering clarinet playing. He was humble all-in-all in the end and their overpriced ticket sales were a benefit for New Orleans musicians.

goodness

I am so embarrassed to admit this, but I logged on late last night after having a friend over for cocktails. Our one casual martini turned into hours and hours of wonderful word exchanges and then I grabbed a fresh bottle of six grapes port out of the cupboard and before any of us knew it...it was empty, the candles were dimming out, and his fresh pack of cigarettes had morphed into a pile of mangled stubs and ash in the orange square ashtray.

In any case, I now vaguely recall sitting here typing this entry last night, but in all honesty I had thought I dreamt it when an image of it flashed quickly in my mind today, and only now when I sit to check emails and see 2 new comments had been added did I realize that it had been real. So what I'm really trying to say is that was my first buzzed/drunken blog post! Ick!

Not to worry, I can be dramatic at times, I'm sure I'll post random tidbits from time to time. It is true though that I am overcome with the desire to write in my neglected journal, and I somehow can't manage to do both, it's one or the other for me...all or nothing.

I mean...what's the point really?

No one reads this blog anyway...this may be my blogger goodbye post, perhpas it's time to go back to my hand written journals.