Songbirds, song birds… song…

My head is a living forest full of songbirds. – jena schwartz

a sort of poem in response…streaming:


song sounds like an Asian name, and i don’t know enough to know which language.

but song.  Song.

I think of artwork rendered in one-dimension line drawings, always with a bird, a bird, a bird.

not living, like an abstract intellectualism of flight. a spot on the landscape that happens to move when not caught on paper. pinned.

and yet, how i love abstract intellectualism. abstractly.

while my heart is filled with the noise and chaos and cacophony of the dawn in my pre-winter days. . .

the fully fleshed, but ah, a spot on the landscape… a twitch in the bramble.


—sigh, you guys. i still choose joy. i still choose the twitch in the bramble. but i fell off the earth this week, clutching at tree branches as i spun out.  the whole monkey mind thing really took me out, and yesterday i took a nap. its a sign of my inner chaos, i think, bigger than i was aware of.  and i’m trying to assess how much of it is because i’ve been handling all the things so calmly, the car, the pipes, the cigarettes, the pinkeye, the no heat, the grief, the birthdays, all of it… the holidays have become such a strain on my impressionable psyche, I might just spin until january, when it all drifts back down to the ground again.

so thats where i am.  i’ve stopped texting ‘that guy’ and i’m not yet clear enough in my head to not be making up stories, and i’m getting pissed off at myself. i cannot currently tell the difference between intuition and compulsion, and thats a freaking biggie.  so, hands off everything til that one settles out.

but i love you, i do.  that much i know. if you know me, you know i do.  if i don’t know you, let me. I’ll love you too. I will.

(but i won’t smell that good while doing it, thats all. ) 1211181322


Skipping it.

so, double pink eye . on me, tha mother.

this sucks it.

but i got  some new curtains and i love them.

they are pink velvet .  and they have tassels. because. target.

1206181413my mom is not coming over to take the littlest to dance bc of the contagiousness. so we are going to be skipping it. which will make this littlest SOOOOO  happy and will make me only have one trip out for a child, which makes me SOOOO happy.

the days of darkness have arrived.

any more metaphors out there for me?

my vision is literally clouded.

the ceiling has fallen.

the beaten down yeast has risen again, and been cooked.

what we most fear (being duped) happens to us again and again

the pipes have burst.

the windows to the soul are full of gunk. crud.

pink the color of dawn. pink the color of contagion.


Divorce, Humanity, Uncategorized

Fog continues. Grief. I know fabrics.

Today i’ve turned off all the kitchen lights, and am typing by computer screen, sparkle lights and a damp grey morning. soft wool. 1120180831a

people are really lovely, they really are. above all.  cashmere.

and still, yesterday i almost crawled back into my bed while the kids were here.  it can be done, but i can only handle it when there is no will left in my body, and vomit is coming forth.

so i must have some will left in my body while the fog is here.  i stay out of bed while kids are here.  old school corduroy, stiff, scratchy.

but man, this grief is hitting hard this year.  and its been five years, so there isn’t a real trigger, except in realizing how much time has passed and how mad i am at my dad for not being here for these five years, and how i would really like to have him around, mad or not.  and how i still look for him everywhere. piles and piles of washed cotton, cold and damp.

its been a big five years.

i think i’d still be unhappily married if it weren’t for what his death showed me.  it uncovered the truth of my unhappiness. the untrustworthy man, the unreliable man, the inexplicable man that i was married to brought Bold in the loss of what in many ways was his opposite.  the things i loved so about my husband were washed out by the things which really make him ‘not the marrying sort’… no matter how many times he tries.

and here i am, swamped into the tub, barely reaching the lip to see out.  turning down work, or asking for delays while i sink.  flannel.



its been a big five years. plasticwrap. (not fabric, but still. how it feels.)


morose. but willing.

it snowed last night. Around here, its really early for a first snow. and it was at night when it happened, so that whole lovely ‘first snow’ feeling never happened.  and it just reminded me so much of the winter wherein the snow never melted and we all went a little crazy, like northern maine crazy… jack nicholson crazy.

so there is that feeling upon waking up… trapped.

and yesterday i laid down a cool 4 thousand dollars to keep my car on the road for another few years.  now, unlike the new fridge of a month or so back, there is no glory feeling, no feeling of accomplishment.  money was fished out of the sock drawer and the credit card was used.

and the car is still full of kidcrap, and it is all very very unsatisfying. they had to move everything out of the trunk (why? WHY?) so all that crap is now in the backseat of my car, staring me right in the face. and it snowed last night, so i don’t really want to deal with it today.

whatever. i’m morose, and dealing with it. at this point, i’ve felt most of the nontraumatic feels i am going to feel in my life, and i’ve bounced from every single one. so i’ll bounce from this.

I’m eating cashews for breakfast and lunch and that’ll take me a long way back towards pleasure.

i’m back on the dating sites. one guy just asked me to send him money. for real. another guy? i thought i’d be going out with him tonight, to hang out and be new friends.  but no, he disappeared. and its not the first time, for him, or in general.

and there’s no crush, my feelings aren’t hurt… its just mildly disappointing and a little confusing. i’m not really a big fan of being confused.

and i would have preferred to not add confusion to the morose.






Word Choice

i’m doing all this editing of so many different things lately… its inflating my sense of authority to ridiculous levels.  and words, words, words… perspicacity.  pernicious.

ooooh.  i wonder how hard i’d have to work to type a word you had to look up.  hm.

but i’ve got other things to do, and you all are smart and pretty damn well-read, as far as i can tell.  so i’m going to turn my energies elsewhere.

here’s another list, because i am out of morose, and out of extremely seamless gratitude. . . . .

lists make me happy.

  1. car is still in the shop. they have to take the engine out and still don’t know whats wrong.  who can forsee a problem? hmm?
  2. i haven’t used my credit card in a long time, but i will. soon.
  3. i have my own new word for the week.( at least) … here it is……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………DRIFT.
  4. so many dots, because otherwise the automatic numbering system was going to utterly defeat me.
  5. my baby turned 6 yesterday, and we had such a lovely time with a bunch of six year olds in the house, and grandparents and color… so much color… and gumballs… she hates cake, so we have ice cream sundaes in teacups… and so much more color…