Thursday, August 26, 2004
another long while
maine, new hampshire, vermont, massachusetts. the heart of new england beauty. although it wasn't autumn, when most people visit the area the stunning fall foliage festivals, august in the green and white mountains is still gorgeous. because of the wet summer we've had there was an abundance of waterfalls to visit, swelling streams and rivers to fish in (we only got to one, but still), and misty mornings of drifting ghostly fog. and the food, oh the food, how i worship thee. we ate so well; everyone should experience the delicacies of fine new england cooking, and beer. every town had multiple breweries, and though my better half could not partake, i had no difficulty ordering a variety of ales and lagers. one night i had pan seared rainbow trout over home made grits all marinated in a light cream white wine sauce with a side salad of mixed greens walnuts light goat cheese balsalmic vinagrette. and a maple creme brullee for dessert. O. that gets the o face. yeah, you know what i'm talking about. O.
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Tuesday, August 10, 2004
#18
The problem, unstated till now, is how
to live in a damaged body
in a world where pain is meant to be gagged
uncured un-grieved over The problem is
to connect, wihtout hysteria, the pain
of any one's body with the pain of the body's world
For it is the body's world
they are trying to destroy forever
The best world is the body's world
filled with creatures filled with dread
misshapen so yet the best we have
our raft among the abstract worlds
and how I longed to live on this earth
walking her boundaries never counting the cost
from Your Native Land, Your Life -- Adrienne Rich
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to live in a damaged body
in a world where pain is meant to be gagged
uncured un-grieved over The problem is
to connect, wihtout hysteria, the pain
of any one's body with the pain of the body's world
For it is the body's world
they are trying to destroy forever
The best world is the body's world
filled with creatures filled with dread
misshapen so yet the best we have
our raft among the abstract worlds
and how I longed to live on this earth
walking her boundaries never counting the cost
from Your Native Land, Your Life -- Adrienne Rich
Monday, August 09, 2004
Portrait of the Artist as a Telemarketer
Last night, I forget where, but i saw a link for the
Occupation Watch website...it's got a good range of
articles and good organization so you can pick &
choose aspects you most wanna read/learn about. i
really like it. it reminded me of the pain and
suffering i had numbed and blocked out of my
consciousness. although truthfully, only a little a
bit. i guess i'm in that state you used to describe
(closer to the beginning of this present conflict)
where it just don't feel real, ya know?! times like
that I wonder just how much i really give a
shit...there's so much you can teach yourself to
endure and ignore. there's so much unlearning you
have to do to overcome and realize. i can spend all
the time thinking about myself: my wants, my needs, my
pain, my embarassment, my frustration, my happiness, my laziness,
my ego, etc. and not even listen to
other people. not even realize other people are real.
there's so much i can block out, blink out. i can
ignore anything. i can endure anything. i can
normalize and carmelize anything. i was just having
this conversation with caitie the other night, walking
down Montague St. to the pier overlooking brooklyn
bridge & manhattan's glistening financial district: a
few years ago for a minute there i learned how to
truly listen to people. despite what one might expect,
i was able to engage people more than
when i tried to be the (blathering) life of the party.
maybe that is common sense and easy practice for the
rest of the world, but for me, i notice i have to pay
attention to myself to make that happen. which, i
guess, also goes against conventional thinking.
funnily, my job right now as a telephone sales rep
(a.k.a Account Manager) for thebigword incorporates a
lot of these thoughts/ideas, but i have no desire to
talk shop when i can talk life. Life's a Pitch, Then
you Fly...or single out, hit a homer if you're lucky,
probably just get walked if your Q. Public. now I'm
rambling. time to go to sleep. or write poetry.
either one is better than autobiography right now.
GET OUT OF MY SKIN.
