1985

I walked into the place and decided that this was where I belonged for the next two years. It was loud and raucous, and I could not hear my own voice when I ordered a drink from the bartender with hair standing straight up on her head. It was 1985, and one-night stands were in season. Perhaps they were popular and frantic because everyone knew they were on their way out. Like the bees in September.

I met a man who sang at the piano once or twice a weekend. It wasn’t the same as the driving disco beat and crappy singles bar feeling. It was a hint of something smooth and fine, lounge music adding a dirty tone to what I had heard now and then on my folks’ t.v. I was in love.

I had a crush on the man but I was in love with the music. The words. The romance of the piano in the night, speaking to me of longings that were very old. I knew this place. I had known it years before I walked inside.

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Monday Random: thank you

The miracle of gratitude is that it shifts your perception to such an extent that it changes the world you see.
-Dr. Robert Holden

  • This week while boiling off some great broth for Thanksgiving gravy, I remembered that I used to write out a gratitude journal
  • I got the idea from an Oprah show in the 90’s, but I’m not sure if the idea came from Oprah or Iyanla Vanzant.
  • I learned a few things from both of them back then, but first, the journaling
  • Oprah suggested writing 5 things a day you are thankful for. They do not have to be big
  • What I learned from this exercise is that choosing to be grateful changed how I viewed the people in my life
  • It changed how I viewed God’s influence in my life
  • It made me less bitter
  • That one is huge

Continue reading “Monday Random: thank you”

Kinder

coffee-and-tea-bw

I am in the kitchen writing out my life
Chopin is in the living room, urging me not to quit
the sadness (over breakfast) and a hurried car ride
heavy and burdensome

I don’t care (I said) because of course
I care more than life itself
but if I have to give up my life
in the process (I don’t care)

Then what is the purpose of living
this strangling, overarching plot
that no one would buy
is dancing in my last nerve

So it is like this. That you will
treat me kindly in the future
and I will continue to write my life
both wonderful and terrible, and
this is the contract I bid you sign

Monday Random: imminent disaster

  • It has been a while since we’ve convened on a Monday, hasn’t it? Let’s do this
  • First I wanted to tell you that I got a little sick from eating a bitter zucchini.
  • Apparently, this is called curcurbit poisoning
  • I found the information while looking for ways to curb the flavour of a zucchini that was particularly bitter i.e. like in the way that you make eggplant palatable
  • This is very rare, so don’t be scared, just take note if your squash tastes bitter
  • You can lose your hair
  • You can die from it

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Monday random

  • Have I mentioned how much I love bullet points?
  • I have a tendency to go on and veer off-topic, and, what’s the phrase for it?
  • Oh right, I go off on tangents
  • These little points keep my tangents brief, still allowing me the pasture my mind seems to covet
  • It is funny really, as, inside me, there is an orderly person trying to get out
  • Just like I prefer wide open spaces in a home, expanses of carpet and minimal, comfortable furniture
  • Only what is needed
  • No you may not see a photo of my home
  • or my desk

Continue reading “Monday random”

you do the math

dancing in my living room
to George and Elton
(does it really happen
if no-one sees it? like
that proverbial
tree in the forest)

he says I never go out
(though I could tell him stories
about 1985, when I lived ten years
in 12 months)
and I dance and dance

my head full of 1990
(wonderwall, hammer, hit me baby)
one more time–-let’s dance as one
I’ll lead this time–you follow–-
if you still have that notion
that 1+1= 1
and 2+1= no-end-of-joy

perhaps we will find
a new kind of joy
wrap’d in understanding, and
lessons learned (old flames–-
new rites of passage)
let’s not forget, and dance to now
(rhianna, radiohead, foo fighters
+ the beatles,
the eagles, and 21 pilots,
shaken and stirred)

once I thought it was crucial
to fly without a net
but I believe
the real trick
is to not let go

Monday Random: Let’s talk about depression

  • My husband has Mondays off, so Tuesdays are like Mondays for me; and yesterday was an impossible day to write this, so don’t worry, you did not go back in time
  • We’ve all heard the news this past week, like other weeks in the past, when someone takes their own life, or more than one someone
  • When suicide is in the news, some people on the news will talk about asking for help if you are in trouble, and others will talk about talking about it too much, that it will create copycats
  • I actually do believe that the latter can be true, as I think back to a time in my life where I romanticized suicide
  • There is nothing romantic about it, and I tend to avoid literature where it does seem to be the climax of the film and something very hopeless that had no other choices
  • This is not to say that we should not talk about it, hell no!
  • Hell no!
  • It is the secrecy that sometimes makes it oh, so easy, when no one knows to come and help
  • Or maybe you have been talking, and not felt listened to. And then there is that person who says, ‘it’s only a cry for help.’
  • Really? What does that tell you?
  • Yep, I’ve been through all the stages. The last stage was about fifteen years ago, when I promised my children that throwing in my cards was no longer on the table.
  • But I will say that this past week when I heard about the third suicide in as many days, that I started contemplating things
  • Then I told myself, ‘Stop it!’ ‘Quit it!’
  • Depression lies
  • So does fear

Continue reading “Monday Random: Let’s talk about depression”

Monday Random

  • I am going to have to sacrifice some morning writing time for sewing, or get better light bulbs for seeing in the evening. I have a huge sewing project and I find it very easy to mix up brown and black, and never can tell the difference in the evening between beige and pink. This is a new problem, but solveable
  • Our birdy friend on the deck is still out there chirping for a mate. Here he is:

Sparrow

Monday, Monday (can’t trust that day)

I don’t typically have bad Mondays. To me Mondays have always been a sort of do-over for me, a fresh start to things that are best left to last week. Today felt like all those Mondays. The good news is I did not die when my husband drove nearly 50 in a 30 in the rain in anger when I made him late. In all fairness, we both set our alarm clocks wrong. He set his for Sunday and I set mine for p.m. But my body always wakes me up anyway. So I really have no excuse as I was up in plenty of time but was still eating my (oh so delicious) poppy seed bagel ten minutes before we had to leave. No I was not dressed yet either. So the anger was justified, but I didn’t want to die for it.

The other good news is that we don’t have bad brakes. In the process of loading himself into the car he shifted the emergency brake with his water bottle so the brake light came on. So our little detour to stop and check the brake fluid was not my fault, a minor point at such a moment, but since we are talking, I thought I’d throw myself on the mercy of the court.

This is where my day started to get better.

Continue reading “Monday, Monday (can’t trust that day)”