Semi-Daily Scribbles

Arrhythmia

So traumatized Chuck still works the mines.
A poet's soul with hardened arteries.
The company doesn't pay Chuck for his turn of phrase and artist's heart.
It's a tough task to write the perfect stanza when crafted in the arc of a headlamp.

The Wait is Over

Hi Richard,

I can't remember the last time we spoke. I think it was before the move to Alpha Rd. We didn't have a lot of interaction as teammates since we had different schedules, and then later on you worked remotely, but I'm happy our respective reality bubbles collided, if only for a short time. I'm sorry I didn't congratulate you and your fiancée on your recent nuptials. I hope your Big Day was fun-filled and included all the people you loved. Other than missing the chance to pass along warm wedding wishes, I didn't really have a whole lot to say to you in recent months other than nudges via group chats that I was sending an incident ticket your way. Ack. But I did cry when Steve told me you had died.

I'm not sure everyone on our team knew you. Your passing wasn't commented on by very many of us. That bothered me, so I shared with a few people the first time we met. I think you thought I was someone else. No introductions, you just launched into a story that, quite frankly, I had a hard time following. Something about an ex-wife, perhaps? I nodded and smiled and thought: "Now here's an interesting fellow..."

Your journey this time around was short, as you endured pain and waiting and rounds of treatment that offered brief relief until the cycle began all over again. You also had a droll sense of humor and a flair for the random. Like picking up where you left off in the telling of a story. It didn't matter if I caught the second act of an ongoing saga. Some lucky person heard the first few chapters, while the conclusion of your tale is forever held in the hearts of your inner circle. I'm glad I got the opportunity to meet you, as well as having worked with our colleague, Ivan. I will keep you both in my memories as I move through this adventure, ever learning and always looking out for fellow travellers.

No worries. The fight is over. You are at peace.

The Hidden Part

What is it you need to show to the world? What's the one thing you want me to know about you? How can you tell your story without it being a masterfully manipulated collection of photographs on Insty-Sham?

Here's what Phyllida wants us to know about her:

I am the Crone. I am your Forever Home. Come rest in my arms so evergreen. I am soon to be riding the #9 and so close to being whole. I feel young/old/accomplished/benighted ... happy to have sensations at all. I am grateful for my cave; my hideout from the world as I've undergone this painful transformation. I don't look any different. The wrapper is no worse for wear. But the little spark of wonder that has always caused me pain is now a rampaging flame of wisdom. Can't unknow what you know. Or, in other words, this light ain't goin' out any time soon, bebe ko.

Be the Star

Not a proper Year-In-Review this. Not even going to speculate on what's in store for 2019. Just a handful of things that happened:

* I rescued a withered Philodendron scandens tucked amongst boxes of Tampax stacked on a table of markdowns at Walmart. I christened the plant Luz.

* Learned to embrace the ludicrous and my worldview improved immensely.

* Wrote some pretty shitty poetry.

* Got to be a tourist in the city where I live when family came to visit.

* Colleagues were given the Fourth Quarter Boot Scoot at my place of employment. I'm still there.

Snapshots of a life lived as the planet does its slow dance around the sun. Time, too, continues to communicate in its ebb and flow way. And each one of us a star. No, really. We follow stars across the sky in our search for home. But as a star, the only place one can return is where you are.

Blessings

jennie wrenn, my very best friend, and a profligate's definition of an angelic vision, is the girl i love the most. blessings pour from her lips like incautious kismet as my feather queen is perched upon her bed of sleights.

Don't listen to anyone right now. Your senses are heightened and intuition has elbowed you in the ribs for the past two years (...don't get comfortable, this is only a well-manicured dead end...) You were hired as the janitor, not Janus. An influencer all the same. Spin that shit until it is silk against your skin. You needn't tell me to fill my days with as much beauty as I can pocket (it's sewn shut anyway.) If you have to peer that deeply into the bowl, dump the water. All the good bits of wisdom ought to have already risen within view.

Achievements and Mistakes

The world was carved by the right hand of the pagliacci. Reality is as entertaining as one's daydreams, and as tangible as the gash you stanch with little chance of it becoming a scar. We all weep at the sight of a well-rehearsed faux pas. Perseverance is the best way to force an outcome, and no one can annihilate an expectation better than Buddie Lewis. How sharp she keeps her charms; silver burnished to draw down the moon.

july bubbles over

we've been summering
bubbles & sun
family & fun
cares have been left behind
at least for a little while

hope you've been soaking up
happy hot weather memories too

we'll catch up when it's cooler.

Stories We Tell Ourselves

Storytellers and makers of beautiful things sometimes deal with the downside of creativity. Maybe this next bit will come off as triggering, but artists don't always have an easy time on this rock. For some, these trips around the Sun are white-knuckle rides. One way or another, we all stick around for as long as we can, so it's best to focus on the joy and memories and stories and beauty that's been left for the rest of us to hold in our hearts.

Oust About

Dudes are getting in trouble for being dudes. The rest of us are scrambling to fill the  positions from which said dudes (Tastemakers!) get ousted. What will the world look like when power is shifted? We are still humans, after all.

Can I raise my hemline and my vibration at the same time without inciting a sense of ill ease? Live & Let Live doesn't come naturally when fleshy needs scream to be soothed. Our little lizard brains will keep us chasing tail until the day we die.

Disruption of Functioning

Pitchforks grasped within sweaty fists. Fair and balanced they are not, but the Tastemakers set the pace and throw shit like nobody's business. Drop and roll and duck and cover. Misery is today's Blue Plate Special. Hatred is an acquired taste. Acceptance, evidently, requires a blood test.

Have willpower, Patience!

You'll never be the right size in their eyes.