isn't it grand?

'tis

Comments

Post a Comment

Thoughts?

Popular posts from this blog

forces pullin'

Image
When it rains it pours we say sink or float leaves for boats  in  a perfect puddle the playground is ours and the rain picks up we are singing we are swinging and everything is new for a couple of hours the grey arrived along with fall thoughts dad worries electric bill went up temporary crown broken mom split a gut laughing at an inside joke from childhood and the kids grow and grow and grow until we are all very old rain, rain splish splish splash thunder lightning listen- CRASH! Oh now feel it when it rains it pours centrifugal force and I see the grey and it smells like rain and I feel it I feel it Alive and afraid to lose. Less and less light on incredible views melancholy right on cue and I feel it
Read more

The Last Years of Long Beach

Image
Passing the lagoon, I see a woman bent with time park her car and slowly lower herself into the water for a solitary swim. It feels like witnessing this ritual makes me part of something sacred. A coyote prancing down the sidewalk midday. People stop to stare and I, in momentary confusion, shout, "Is that your dog?" Every Friday night there is a car chase somewhere in LA and now that we have all the tv channels, we can usually find it to watch. Once in awhile it ends somewhere near and we hear the helicopters hovering overhead for hours. Wandering walks. The light hits just the right way and the air is dense and the day feels both unspecial and extraordinary. I look down at my hand and have a profound experience. Hard to explain. My hand suddenly seems to me entirely unfamiliar. These prints and lines, with me all my life but changing too, seem so much a part and so fundamentally separate from me in this moment, that it temporarily stops me in my tracks. Hard to ...
Read more

Need

I want you to know that I have grown used to the lines by my eyes. They are mine. When I see them now, I do not startle.   Recognition. I want you to know that the robots let me go. I tried to call The New Yorker to bargain down my subscription renewal. Instead, I was greeted with a robot voice. Instead of connecting me with a human representative, it cancelled my subscription and ended the call. Goodbye. I want you to know that it can flip like a switch. Topics that consume so much energy, anticipation, intrigue... all the bigs, at any moment, can become nearly repulsive.  I do not want to hear one more word about it. Unsubscribe from the podcasts. Close the blinds. Cancel the library holds. And all that rejection leaves a massive nothing and a dull ache in its wake.  Filled in the rabbit hole. Staring at dirt.  Next. I want you to know that the past doesn't hold me with much of a grip. I remember some things in flashes, but mostly the fog has settled in. Large stre...
Read more