I lied about the 'forward!'

--sort of. Admitting there is a problem is the first step to solving it? Well, what I have here is admittance.
There are voices under my feet again. A few minutes ago it was 10:00 and I sat down at the piano without stopping to think of it being 10:00 and made it through half a song before I realized I can't DO that anymore. I remember the way in high school I used to crave the piano so badly late at night, and then later, when I had an electric keyboard and headphones and could give in to those cravings, it wasn't what I wanted anymore. So it's ok that I'm not playing right now because if I could I probably wouldn't be.
Last weekend I was in an unfamiliar city meeting people who seemed already familiar, even though they were not. Tomorrow I will be meeting Confederate soldiers and a 8 month old kid named Louie, who, based on the pictures I've seen, has a grinning, drooling beach ball for a head.

forward!

The earrings I'm wearing today are a talisman. I am braced for an explosion and fully expecting to finally reach that branch in the trail in 3... 2... 1...

trip

I was holding a city in my hand
weighing it
against the green hill roads
with no lines
and nodding in one direction
(love)
while staring down
its opposite

green grass and all that

I have forbidden fruit issues.

wanderlust

When I'm driving and I turn down a side road I like or am following whims, it is a bit of a rush to think, well, if my car breaks down right here, when I call the tow truck I will have no excuse for why I'm three miles back in the country on gravel roads. And then, when I'm back on track five minutes or an hour later, I can always tell the instant I cross over from what, why?? territory onto solid on-my-way-home. I wouldn't have to have a story to go along with stuck in the ditch on this road.

harumph

What's MY excuse? Caffeine headache. What's YOURS?

the good parts

Sometimes I'm bored of point A to B. I'd rather start in the middle--when we were sitting on the sidewalk and the duck couple waddled by. There are few things (maybe nothing at all) that delight me as instantaneously as ducks do. To say nothing of ducks in a pair, a mallard and his woman, moseying down the sidewalk on the edge of town, on their way to the creek a block off, necks bobbing, tail feathers waggling. It was twilight, and I can assume they were on a little duck date. A romantic stroll. Was that the highlight of today? Maybe. But I did also really like the way the cheap wine and stale cigarette smoke didn't stick to me, but the friendships did.

a stern talking to

April. Sometimes, you know, a Thing is just a thing. It's not a symbol, it's not a portent, it's not even the beginning of a metaphor. When a wheel on the collapsible shelves in the basement whacked me on the hand, maybe it was just an oops, not a scolding directed at me from the library gods. And the ring on my finger with the silver leaves isn't necessarily a representation of new life or openings, and it's probably not a stand-in for thorns. There's no point in continuing to mistake silence with Silence, no point in finding the shapes in the coffee stain on my sleeve. If it rains and the morning is gray, well, it is spring after all. I don't have to always tell myself that the skies are mourning along with me because a beloved roommate has moved out and my brothers are away. I guess there is sometimes a reason to look under and around the actual, to pull meaning out from where it's hidden. But self, you go too far. Too far, when you're reading a sentence that has been handed to you, and you realize if you take it completely out of context, it might Mean something quite different. That is way too much of sifting through way too small a pile. Stop fracturing the the solid into all those shards of imaginary. ...All poetry aside.

I am all about bright sides

The good part of having broken off my printer's tray is that I never have to remember to open it. Like the good part of forgetting to put my watch on in the morning is not having to take it off at night.

junk!

Am tossing around the idea of living the rest of my life in solitary squalor. Oh, but with my best friend nearby. And clean sheets.