two weeks
in and out
a perpetual
Go
Go
Go
from New York
to Maryland
(to Adelphi, to Baltimore, to Ocean City, to Frederick, to DC)
to New York
to Upstate
(to Batavia, to Byron, to Elba, to Waterport)
to New York
and now
are we still
Go…Go…?
from Brooklyn
to the Bronx
to Manhattan
and back
and back
and back?
or is there a moment
of rest
to recover
(or is the rest
also going to be
from bedroom
to Zoom
to Zoom
to Zoom
continually
ad infinitum
and on and on and on?)
i hope
when i die
the memories can be joyous
and my stuff not just stuff
and that rainbows
are the dress code
for a day
(or two)
Morning Pages
but in the evening?
[how gauche]
the tears
come in waves
like the grey/white/foam
the boat rocking
our grief
and joy
and stress
and discomfort
and we simply wish to be
together.
coffee beats
caffeine beats
coffee beans
coffee club
caffeine caffeine
(will there ever be a time
that covfefe might be an adorable memory from the past
instead of the trigger
it is now?)
(doubtful)
~~~
my head is pounding
from my sinuses
to…the rest of my body
(all from my sinuses)
(my sinuses are fully to blame)
and i’m blaming my sinuses
also
for not feeling
quite
fully
awake.
~~~
are these half-asleep
ramblings
the things
i really want in my poetry blog?
(when haven’t they been?)
A life
A life well lived
A life well lived for a long time
Spunky,
Always learning,
Always growing,
(except in height)
Always pushing the boundaries
Of what it means
To be a woman
In a yacht club
In a college
In a profession.
To be a person.
And the stories
(oh the stories)
A letter full of spelling mistakes
(from a spelling-bee winner)
Kept for decades
Touted as her favorite letter.
Working in the general store
Her father owned
But banned from interacting with customers
Because of that one time she threw a potato at one.
Wearing witch stickers,
Being a dog magnet,
(when she didn’t really like dogs),
And the one I got to experience:
Staring at a piece of art for a long time
Asking ‘Who did that?’
And when we said ‘You did!’
Her response was,
‘I thought I liked it.’
Let’s raise a glass
(of Vernors)
To Jean Jackson Price.
those who
decide to
or decide not to
have actually made a decision
those of us who
stay in the middle
are doomed to
stay in the middle
~~~
it’s always interesting
to be clued into
another family’s drama.
i’ve only ever been privy
to a few sets of families
but whenever it happens
i feel like an uninvited audience member
to a preview
where the actors aren’t ready
and break character
more than they stay in
and no matter how much i try to tell myself
they’ve invited me here
i’m a part of the family now
i’ve married in
legally
i’m in
i still can’t help
but feel as though
i’m
intruding.
~~~
now i’m becoming worried
of writing too much
of being too real
too honest
for this little experimental experiment blog
when
when
when
did i switch from feeling too fake
and too impersonal
and wanting to be more honest?
[is it just the subject matter i’m worried about???]
wake
car
pack
car
breakfast
car
stop
car
gas
car
stretch
car
snacks
car
hotel
car
family
dogs
play
talk
food
campfire
memories
people
car
tired
sleep
another adventure
another setting out
this time for something
not quite as happy
but hopefully fulfilling
and connecting
and kind.
~~~
there are studies
that show
the earlier you deal with death
the better
(or so much worse)
you are at handling any death
as an adult.
i solidly fall into the second category,
my brain short circuiting whenever death is present
whenever someone is grieving
my go-to comfort is
to leave them alone.
but when you’re not a pre-teen
figuring out exactly what you need,
most folks would opt for connection
for a few words of comfort
not alone time.
so
after months of watching back episodes of
“Ask a Mortician”
and
reading her books
and
listening to her podcast
i’ve figured out a better way of dealing with death:
i ask the grieving person
what their favorite memory is of their loved one.
i specify they don’t have to share with me,
(but i’d be happy to hear if they choose),
but to simply think of their favorite memory.
i’ve only had two opportunities to use it so far,
but both felt connective,
kind,
and i felt useful
(all i really want to feel anyway)
so,
anyone grieving,
(or having gone through grief),
what’s your favorite memory of that person?
~~~
our dog
staring at her food
for minutes upon minutes
as if she’s having an existential crisis
(what a way for the universe to show us she belongs with us)
in that strange way
i’m feeling very much a certain way
a solid emotion?
[that never happens;
i am a master intellectualizer]
i suppose my one emotion
is the burgeoning of emotions.
in therapy i’m asked
‘how does that make you feel?’
and i can follow my thought process
what it makes me think of
the connections i make with past/present/future
but emotions? what a laugh.
[is my go-to coping mechanism no longer humor?]
intellectualizing is a fine coping mechanism
for someone not trying to actually get in touch with their emotions
but as an actor, i’d like to have a whole toolbox to play with
not just ‘all good emotions’
not just ‘all emotions that aren’t too tough’
not just ‘all emotions that don’t make me feel out of control’
my biggest fear is going crazy, losing control on my concept of reality
and if i let the ‘bad’ emotions in, how will i ever be able to stop them?
how will i stay in control of where/who/what i am,
when i feel like i’m a pre-teen and in Ohio and totally out of control
when i feel even a shadow
of those feels
i know i should
i know it’ll be good for me
i know i won’t lose touch with all of reality
but that doesn’t make it any less scary.
kipventures 