spree

This goes against my ancestral bones (but then, so does the word 'fuck' and a penchant for Jack Daniels), but lately I have been uncoiling my mind late at night with fantasies of unaccountable shopping sprees. Just going out and taking everything off the rack.

Time to wake up.

orders

Relax into the fingers,
scalp.
Rest your fragile bones onto the insoles,
feet.

Start beating again,
heart.

used to be

My toes remind me of pomegranate seeds which reminds me of the first time I bit into one and the mattress that used to be on the floor.

breaking

Oh lord, my apathy. Oh, the apathy. It sometimes feels like it's about to breach my containment walls and take over this whole body of mine. Stand up, stand up! One foot after the other! Job! Walk! Dote! Damn. Even the small things are taking on an air of Not Really Worth It, and is this just because it's Monday?
Or am I legitimately breaking?

ego

I wonder what it would be like to have grown up in the center of the universe. I have too much of that already--entitlement and (inaccurate) self-grandeur. I am way too eager to accept praise and unjustified kisses. Sometimes I pretend I'm not, but it's a load of crap. I am full of myself. I suppose this could have been tempered by direct intervention, full attention from day one. But I'd say probably not. I'd say if I were the only thing that mattered I'd choose turn myself into a wild-eyed source of destruction. I'd say I'd probably be bending myself in half in the pursuit of freedom. I'd probably be miles away.

one side to the other

I am keeping the feeling of floating on my back in a big blue pool as tonight's number one rock-me-to-sleep thought.

denying the inevitable

Last night was unexpected. I never really expect failure and tears and running away. Though I suppose that might be part of my problem--the fact that I don't expect meltdown. If I anticipated it better perhaps I could prevent it. In this case, go back in time by two months and start rigorous training so that I can feel like I'm capable of honoring the music I'm playing and the brilliant boy I'm playing it for. So anyway, I got to 7:00pm and a short break and my heart was racing and my head was pounding and there were hot tears just under the surface of my lids and it's like, keep it up? Keep it up, April, and stick through hours two and three? I am not sure where the line between cowardice and self-preservation is. I'm never sure when I should give myself permission to throw up my hands from duty and run for comfort. Not surprising, as I'm the same girl who has never known the line between a blemish and a beauty mark. I ended up taking off. Driving too quickly and without my license and begging for reassurance from S, who met me in front of his house with a few wedges of a fresh orange in his hand held out to me. And instead of fighting my way through a long rehearsal, I spent the evening in the audience of a jazz ensemble concert led by one of the greatest drummers who has ever lived, and I smiled and laughed and thought, 'this is so life-affirming!' This is a really great way to deny the inevitable.

tweet

I think, very seriously, that the new bird song clock in our front office is hilarious. O'clock and it lets out a mighty chirp and we all jump and I laugh and laugh. It won't last--it's bound to drive one of us crazy and be taken down, silenced. It will drive one of them crazy, I mean. Not me. It is exactly that thing once missing from our wall that suits me best.

well

To the fingernail clippings and the ugly dark stain:
well, it's been fun.

incompletely

I incompletely cried three times today. The man in the pew in front of us in church collapsed during the middle of the second hymn this morning. He hit the bench hard. He was gray, stiff, unresponsive. We got out of the way of the stretcher and my eyes welled up because of the people who knew how to help and the way they darted over before the verse had ended. And later, after lunch, a perfect quartet made my eyes water. The incredible, crisp richness of four people breathing through their horns together. They rehearsed a romantic piece, the swoony sort. Soprano, alto, tenor, bari. I shivered from my seat off to the side, waiting, wanting more. And then tonight, after all that came between--after a walk through the spring hills and a long hour sitting in tall grass left over from last summer, after a meal with my new family and food so good I kept reaching for more, after time and time again with my lips brushing up against his--S and I were on the couch, watching Futurama, sipping a strong drink, the smell of clean laundry filling the room, and as the time wore on and the drink sunk in I leaned down until my head was on his lap and I fell asleep quickly and shallowly and when a half hour later his laughter woke me, my eyes had run together, pooled on his leg. Crying without words, without thought. That's a good ending.