“it doesn’t really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist’s chair or let your hands lie in your lap.  the drill drills on.”

“I see the chasm and everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man.  And now the bridge is breaking.”

“For in grief nothing “stays put.” One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?

But if a spiral, am I going up or down it?

How often — will it be for always? — how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, “I never realized my loss till this moment”? The same leg is cut off time after time.”

“Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for appendicitis is one thing; after he’s had his leg off is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will stop. Presently he’ll get back his strength and be able to stump about on his wooden leg. He has ‘got over it.’ But he will probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged man. There will be hardly any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.”

C.S. Lewis

the world ending isn’t hard.
what’s hard is when it doesn’t end.

there’s no end to that misery. 

been feeling like shit.  crying and junk.  my eyes are too swollen to wear makeup.  but no one says anything.  I guess they’re either being polite or they don’t notice.  overwhelming oversensitivity and self-doubt.  didn’t really know why till today.  there’s been enough other stuff and just ongoing stuff, that it could have just been a buildup.  but I realized, I think the trigger was my biological dad’s birthday on sunday.  sent a card.  probably not early enough to get there on time, cos I’m self-defeating like that.  so I sent an email sunday, saying the card would likely be late (there were small presents in the card and the girls signed it too). 

I didn’t get a reply.  and I relegated that to the back of my mind.  I compartmentalized it.  I do that when initially confronted with something I’m not sure how to react to.   gives me time to kind of mull it over without activating my sensitivities.   today I’ve realized, however, while I’ve been peripherally aware of the situation, I haven’t allowed myself to face it dead on:  my dad and I are estranged.  he won’t take or return my calls or mails.  his wife has been signing his name on cards.  I knew it, but I chose to ignore it.  my sister is not aware of there being anything wrong, as far as I hear.   my dad still talks to/sees her and her family.

I feel kind of wrecked, but on one side I kind of think I don’t care very much anymore.  but what it does do?  makes me aware of feeling very small and alone.  unsupported.  makes me very sensitive to perceived slights in other areas.  most of the time I genuinely feel pretty zen about stuff.  about everything.  but occasionally I feel really bereft.  and alone.

I guess it’s just another road to walk.  one that will lead to something else eventually.  just try to keep moving.

sad motherfucker

sometimes seven syllables

is just too many

nature abhors a vaccuum.  and so do I.

guess my misery tank was getting empty.

they say you’re never given more than you can handle, but I think the universe gets overly optimistic about my ability to bounce in a short time period.

easy to keep your head above water; empty things float.  float.

keep passing the open windows!

I had forgotten about this… no longer relevant but I still like it:

I was married by a judge.

I should have asked for a jury.

…Groucho Marx

Now For Something

COMPLETELY DIFFERENT:

I love you dear; you are my love
You were sent from up above…
Betwixt the clouds the birds fly high;
Your love just hit me in the eye!

But that’s okay! You made your mark-
One day while strolling in the park,
You laid your cloak atop the muck…
I could scarce believe my luck!

A true Gallant! A Manly Man!
How shocked to end up on my can;
You grinned with glee and slung the cape
And tossed me off, you dirty ape!

Through the years our love has bloomed,
Though some had thought it surely doomed;
Respect has grown as years trip by;
Behind my back I hold a pie…

for my love.

where does it come from?
is it ever
will be
go away?
maybe
not today
more salt please
for my wound

Henry Miller: “Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we dent, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.”

“To love a person is to learn the song that is in their heart and sing it to them when they have forgotten.”
~ Thomas Chandler

the walls are closing in.