i'll let you know when i get there

these are some fragments of a little moleskin that started one of the most important friendships in my life.  before we even knew much about each other, we started passing this notebook back and forth throughout the school day like little school girls passing notes (m's idea).  this notebook and the subsequent friendship has become more important to my experience and sense of self than i can even express. this was back at the beginning of so much change and ache and joy and shift. in so many ways, everything has changed.  in so many ways, everything is the same.

what's so great about the giving tree? i wish that trees had legs so it could run away if it wanted to.

outside myself watching from somewhere until a trigger sends the register of some hurt flashing across my face flashed seen and impossible to reclaim somewhere, a door closes. some light lifts and sends shadows on words where there were none wait rage rage rage like dancing alone with a watcher unmoving rage rage rage

"Into that empty space of not knowing- a space sometimes colored with righteous resentment at what could have been cowardice, stupidity, or bad luck- that empty space of no definitive news was filled now with a brand-new sorrow, and who could tell how many more on the way." -Toni Morrison  Beloved a silence and a sob wrestle to fill the space   where a promise used to be.

i woke myself laughing at the puppet head.  the mistake was just hilarious. (you see, in the dream there was some sort of documentary program on the screen.  the voice was talking about a woman's life and how she'd changed over the years (i do not remember for better or worse) and i was extremely interested.  but what really got me was when, instead of showing pictures and footage of the woman, the cameraman made the mistake of letting the camera land and remain on the head of a puppet.  a hollow head of a puppet, smiling and unmoving.  and in the dream the cameraman's error was so funny to me!  it was the story of a woman and how she'd changed but the shot was stuck on some image of a puppet, unmoving!  how come no one noticed the cameraman's error!  how absurd!)  i woke myself up laughing, and apologizing for laughing but it was just too, too funny.  i've told the story two times now, since waking up, and i'm staring to wonder if i...

this generation don't know nuthin about stickin to something don't know nuthin about a promise. nuthin about stickin with a job for a whole of your career about loy- al- tee about marryin and stickin to it always jumpin from one boat to another all of em leakin go to the doctor and get pills so you can live on borrowed time don't know nuthin about plantin gardens and watchin em grow the only attempt you manage to muster is a halfass promise to the credit card company and even then, it's a gamble and a prayer that that promise means squat but you HUNGRY for it god, you starvin you don't know nothin BOUT a promise, but you love hearin about and believin about it somebody on tv promise you life gonna look different if you buy something new and you sell your soul to chase that promise you feel some kind of itch to try on every promise to see if it fits you jump through apartments and lovers and religious and political a- feel- ee- Ations but you lo...

Finished a second reading on September 11.  Not as many tears, but a deeper connection to Oskar due to a greater understanding of PTSD.  On my first reading, the Something/Nothing dichotomy stood out  much more clearly.  Perhaps it spoke to the moment. The only tears shed this time  were caused by the build that resulted in the last line: "We would have been safe." and the frozen image of the falling body,  reversed to ascension,  but still and inevitably a remnant of something that cannot be reversed.   a stilled reminder that there is no safety.   there is no way to take that body out of the air. that spoke extremely loudly to me this time, it is incredibly close to my biggest fears of helplessness.