Touching Base with Spirit

Sometimes just touching the water helps.

Just a wish for me and T.O. to go back to being 9 years old, a day at Canobie Lake Park.

No grownup responsibilities, just the ability to explore and play and discover things together.  With smiles on our lips, laughter as the default.  Living in the present.

Stripping away everything except spirit.

Knowing what it would be like to escape the complexities of now, of work, of family, or the world we live in.  Escape to a protected space, where it is only glowing light of summer and looking forward to a whole day of joy.  

Dream with the kid

An unmasking? Unsexing?

There was some afternoon gathering.  With a doctor.

I had cut off my breasts, so that they were complete, self contained, unbloody, cone line & dense pillows.

I did not have a memory of cutting them off. I only knew that the doctor would return that afternoon to put them back when it was more convenient.

And then the doctor brought in sanity, implants, why would I want the old bags anyway, except for the nipple.

Em tossed then around a bit too much and I thought the nipple of one stretched down too far, to the bottom and wasn't very aesthetic.

I had no sense of pain or loss. But these things felt solid, like tightly wrapped sandbags. Something that I had to remove for convenience.

Also,

I drove to Maine last weekend

I listened to too many lectures from the handsome guy at work.

Like getting myself off soda, I have to learn to associate the flatness at the main character of the thing.

And lose interest.

Mothers Die

Fact.

Lovers too.

The woman in hospice, who will miss her hands. Her body. 

"I don't have a choice. Even after the arguments with God. I must give it up."

Fresh Air

Chaplain On Living

Leonard Cohen

Intersections Across Stories

I wonder if this story is ALSO about M. (The Lyme Disease Guy with Blue)

Or about T (The Machine), Imaginary Friend.

Because when you ask someone about the edges of their sanity, you are bound to find some unsettling pieces.

M is alone, the ice cream , the accident, the toothbrush.

T is so uptight, so serious, but he can laugh.  There is a crack in there somewhere.

People Going Crazy

They are all around us.

People who may or may not have a mental issue.

Brain chemistry and wiring, PTSD or difficult memories.

Bad experiences that create other bad experiences going forward for other people.

We are on this giant marble, a bunch of tinier marbles, careening into each other.  And sometimes causing sparks.

There once was a very talented songwriter, who took the wrong drug and never came back.

Of course, it happens a lot, more than we realize.  Every beautiful and creative flower, every poetic phrase, every explosion of energy that comes out in a beautiful way....there is an equal and opposite reaction somewhere waiting for us in the future.

At least for those of us who are marked/diagnosed.

http://dangerousminds.net/comments/meet_craig_smith_l.a._pop-folk_golden_boy_turned_lost_psychedelic_genius_th

Your Ghost Songs Still Haunt Me

Everytime I hear a song that reminds me of you, or think of a place that I associate with you, I am taken back.

Little Green Cars
Oh, no, I'll never go back there no more
NIWS/LIWNMTS
Please Read the Letter

Even though I know you have moved on, and are living somewhere in Africa, I still think of your bust of Mozart.  And the sunshiney yellow walls of your apartment.  And that couch.  And that time she dressed in black.

I still think of the dragon, and the lake, and how easy it would be for us to take a day to walk around the Pond.  And all those moments in between, when you lock yourself in your closet, in the dark, to keep yourself away from me.  When the danger takes over.

I'm still waiting for you (even if I don't seem to be).  Which drives me crazy.  Can I wait and both not wait for you?  Have I already moved on?

Your Ghost Songs Still Haunt Me

Everytime I hear a song that reminds me of you, or think of a place that I associate with you, I am taken back.

Little Green Cars
Oh, no, I'll never go back there no more
NIWS/LIWNMTS
Please Read the Letter

Even though I know you have moved on, and are living somewhere in Africa, I still think of your bust of Mozart.  And the sunshiney yellow walls of your apartment.  And that couch.  And that time she dressed in black.

I still think of the dragon, and the lake, and how easy it would be for us to take a day to walk around the Pond.  And all those moments in between, when you lock yourself in your closet, in the dark, to keep yourself away from me.  When the danger takes over.

I'm still waiting for you (even if I don't seem to be).  Which drives me crazy.  Can I wait and both not wait for you?  Have I already moved on?

Sandy and sexy

A picture from the beach 3 or 4 years ago, NJ shore.

That boy who has glasses now, and who graduated from 6th grade?

And has 2 little baby siblings.

What a different world.

and the Beethoven statue and the baby grand and the gold walls.  

And the closet with the scars

And the bed and the leather

And the record of the Moody Blues.

Wandering in Werifesteria

There be dragons.

Wander around the Pond.  Where are the fairytales?

It is you/we/us who make them up!

The railroad reigns us in

This is the story of 100 summers and more

And all the other forests, all look alike, except in different ways.  The challenge is to be lost and found again, to recognize all the trees.

Our days are all alike, except they are all now.

Every tree has its own character, imagine them as people, or as ghosts, or as beings.

There was a time when most of Concord was clear-cut.  When trees were firewood, waiting for the axeman's kill.  But this was always a forest, Fairyland Pond stood guard.

What is at the bottom of this Pond?  And will it ever reveal its secrets?

"werifesteria" is an obscure word from Old English. 

"to wander longingly through the forest in search of mystery and adventure."

NIWS=LIWNMTS

NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN >>>INVISIBLE MAGIC!!

(LANCE)

LIWNMTS!!!!! To LG

FAIRY TALES

(one story/chapter per line)

Beauty I’ve missed with these eyes before

I love you

Gazing at people

Hand in hand

Just what I’m going thru

They can’t Understand

Some try to tell me

Thoughts they cannot defend (SHRINKS)

Just what you want to be

You will be in the end

SCENE of BOTH of them, the same age

PROMISE ME YOU’ll come back to this day, no matter how old you are, just focus on us sitting here, on the shore, this day, this perfect day

WHAT if this is the truth??

And that life, the jobs, the idea that you are crazy, unhealthy

What if THAT is the sickness??

(JUst what the truth is//I can’t say anymore)

Oh, how I love you!

(Hanging out a window!)

Both sitting 20 stories up!!

I used to open my bedroom window whenever I heard the song

And I was entranced by the dew on the Lilac trees

When they started to bloom again, 2 or 3 years after my father died

(I swear, there was NO spring or fall, no action of nature.  Except cold.

14yrs old!!

So they made it partway around the lake.....

She was about 85 and he was still only about 8.

They had gotten as far as Lifeguard Beach (Red Cross Beach), the sign for the House Site.

She was winded.

He was skipping stones and hitting his feet on the rocks under the water.

Suddenly, he had an image of her, of both of them, young and in love, but there was something...

They were sunning themselves and reading on a beach blanket. Not this day, another day, a day in summer.  She wanted to go to the House Site, he stopped her.  He grabbed her hand and she started as if he had touched her with fire.

And then again, they were the same age, but older, and it was Fall.  The leaves were beautiful but it was too cold to step in the water.  Their shoes were on, and the sand was not tempting.
He was sad about something, and she put her arm through his.

Looking each other full in their faces, their eyes, everything was taken in.  She said, "If I live forever, I'll never want to let you go. I'll always want to come back here.  To keep walking along these shores with you.  We are always safe here,"

And then-again-he was torn away.  A dragon, Thunder, fire, a blade coming close to his skin.  Pain. Pain. Pain. Darkness.  He was locked in, he kept banging at the door. Pain.

And then the old lady turned around.  "Let's keep going, I'm ready now,"

And he emerged from the water, a little boy of 8 years old, and led her gently by the hand, afraid to turn back and see the dragon that was hovering over the water.

Bus Stop outside an Old Folks Home

As a young woman, I have dreams of parts of my life.

As an old woman, I have dreams of being a young woman.

I've run through the streets, trying to get back to one of the places I've lived, without being able to remember which one it is.

Or the job, which I'm so proud of, and not remembering where it is or where my commute is headed.

I sit at a bus stop, in Deuseldorf Germany, and I forget everything in the space of that wait.

Once, I escaped, a young woman trapped, arrested, kidnapped, stuck in a facility with others, a German camp? We are denied our clothes and only have hospital gowns.

I am only 24, but when I look in the mirror, I see an old woman. I can't imagine what kind of drugs they give me.

The bus will never come.

I miss the sense of being on a bus, going somewhere. All the buses, in my hometown, to the big city, across the country, the shuttle twice a day.

I met myself. Again. Only an old woman.

From the Viewpoint of the Sexy Tragic Muse

What if there was a girl who had to call 911 on her friend who was close to CS'ing??

What if she knew what it was like to be there herself??

Recursive story!!!

http://www.guerrillafeminism.org/mental-illness-and-the-male-gaze-anne-theriault/