Things called Slugs that come out of a Gun

And turn into their ultimate form.

Tonight's Pizza Story was about a man who escaped from a Fairy Tale. He was too shy to be a Prince, too scared to be Superman.

A little boy decided he would be the one to get him to come out and play. He placed his huge Pokemon stuffed animal outside his door and knocked.

Moments of Clarity

Dear Neighbor,

Which we barely are. I had wanted to be friends, saw a shared experience of enchantment laid out before us.  Warm, laughing pizza nights and afternoon walks.  And excellent conversations.

Thank you for telling me that you are Bipolar.  When I found out in September, I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.  To cut you some slack.  But now, I have found that EVERYTHING has been rationalizations on my part.

I have never tried harder to be friends with anyone.  Gentle and generous.  Willing to silently be there.  And I thought I was reading you well.  Well enough anyway.  (Even at this moment, I have no sense if you are in a better phase now, or if you have always been fine.)

I just realize that I have been giving this entire time.  And you have given me nothing.  At first, I said it was fine that it was emails.  And then you didn't have to give me presents back, but I could give art and just accept your appreciation.  INvite you to places, without expecting an invitation back.  Even though I knew you had the pizza thing.  Or coffee.

How you are in denial.

(I will now step away.  I wrote the above after coffee & before a proper meal.  I took a nap and now feel completely calm -despite hearing that the terrorists were planning to drive (from Watertown to Times Square) and do more bombing)

Goodbye again.  Best of everything to you, but I don't believe we want the same things out of a friendship.  I want someone who wants to enjoy me for who I am, especially in person.  And a person who makes an effort to care/check in on my mental health.

April Morning Patriot Bomber Hunt

Hunting for the bad guys

Lego Spaceship in Space. And Cat.

Handshake on the Sidewalk

Dear Prince,

You sent a note to me today. 23 words or so.

I responded with 19.

You are very stingy with your words. I shall feed you on the same diet. (also because I can't bear to TRY with you anymore)

I know you havent unfrozen yet.

An hour later, we meet on the sidewalk. With others, especially one who is eager to be nice to me.

She talks, wants to be friends. It's easy with her. No games, no illness.

You hold out your hand as if we are friends. I hesitate, but accept and thanks you for the note. Which was a flare on the horizon.

Last time you saw this in me, you hugged me.

And we havent spoken for 6 months.

Pricker's Last Week

To The Knight,
I heard someone reciting a poem in German.
In that exact room, where you sat behind me.
Last year.
And tried not to think of you,
As you are,
Encased in ice.
Imagining that there are thousands of people who speak your languages.
And that you are not the only one,
Inhabiting all these worlds.
Encased in ice.
And losing you in the crowd.
Your back turned, face hidden,
And gone from view.
And gone.
--
To The Prince
So sad this morning.
Sad beyond words.
And tonight,
Alive and squirming to show off your paintings.
Our paintings and sketches.
To my friend from Ireland,
Showing off.
Hair like Rod Stewart
And we ran off to see the Little Red Lighthouse
And our corner homeless guy
Saw me at the river.
Don Quixote.


The Cat.
Purring and meowing.
Loudly.
Just a few weeks ago,
Sitting on my bed, even with the dog,
And the fish
(and David was not dying)
Nibbling on my ear.
I am a Mama,
One of the nipples to suck on.
Forbidden tickle
Now he's drooling and smells of something
Cancer?
Death?
Rotting?
Old cat.

Silence of being Sad

You were sullen this morning.

For the first time.

Silent and half dressed, prostate on your father's bed. Suddenly immobilized. Maybe the thought of the cat only having a week to live. Maybe not wanting to face school, where everything is difficult.

Maybe you are just being a kid. Stubborn (I still am, and it frankly doesn't help. No matter how instinctive)

Don't learn this from your mother (or me for that matter). Silence doesn't help. Neither does getting under the covers.

We see you as something simpler than ourselves, not yet ruined by habit and cynicism. I now know exactly how my mother defines the phrase "beautiful daughter". But I also know that I wince at that, aware all too well of my own failings.

Friday Night Guacamole Drinks and Time Capsules

We went with your best girlfriend and the dog to Bennett Park.

Today was the first real day of Spring, where you could take off your coats and play and it felt okay.

She brought a little bunny that rides on wheels and makes noises when you push the button on its nose.

You brought 4 Hotwheel cars because you wanted to watch them ride down the slide.

You guys played Hide & Seek & Chase around the new playground area. I talked to 2 daddy types. It was the same thing as being at the dog park, but more fun to watch.

You guys came back and played pillow fights. Your father made me a guacamole drink of cilantro. And you guys had lemonade.

I told you guys about Myles and Roberta. How her husband beat her and my mon took her in. And how Myles is grown, but he still remembers me. (Not a brother, I should have tried harder)

The man who ran the Natural Foods store where the 181 restaurant is now was named Julio. Your father said he had lost his woman. And his store was in $60k worth of debt. And then he spelled out hospital. And you knew it!! A few months ago, you wouldn't have. You've been reading a lot better now, we even did a poetry night last night. He was in the hospital because he tried to CS.

I don't know if you have made the association yet.

You and I drew on the floor of my room. We started doing Pokemon. Then I pointed out the building across the way. With the blue design that you interpreted as Hieroglyphics. The box means house. At the same time, the guy on the radio was singing the word "house".

I explained a Time Capsule to you. How we could find a box and put in all sorts of everyday items and leave it for 20 years. And how you should draw things now. And write down his memories. Because you have them in your head now, but by the time you read this, it will all be fuzzy.

We collaborated on the sketch of the building across the way. You kept turning to me and saying, you left a part out! I let you take over. Big brick. Little brick. You are good at details.

When we finished you wanted to frame it. Then do another picture of the sky off the corner of it. Then another one, showing stars. Then another, showing stars and the moon.

:)

Then you packed yourself off to be with your mom for a day or two. She has just driven up from Florida a week ago.

I hope she's okay.

I miss her terribly.

And think about her everyday.

On the Shores of Walden

Spring coming back from the library

Monsters!!

For educational purposes.

Studied during the consumption of celery and pizza.