Monday, February 21, 2011

busy and yet

I've been rather busy, not busy enough to have neglected writing, but I have. I edited some poems yesterday. I was rather in love with some lines, the phrase machete shaven.

Last night I started watching Roman Holiday, one of my favorite films. I have a thing for old cheesy films. Insomnia has been a companion of mine my entire life; when I was a little kid I used to watch AMC all night. I particularly loved anything with Danny Kaye. The romantic in me is enamored with the idyllic, the scenery, the ways things work out. I also love period pieces. Kind of a strange obsession but I have it, and I love it. I've been listening to a lot of Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone too. A part of me thinks I was born in the wrong era but then I think about the rights (lack thereof) women had, and especially women of color and think I was born at exactly the right time.

Still, there is a hunger in me to give into some nostalgia that rings from a place I'm not sure exists. I've been remembering Paris and how each morning I'd wake up and go to the window, sit on the tiny balcony overlooking Rue San Jaques and how fucking happy I was. But maybe Paris is one of those cities that is better in memory. I want to travel somewhere old. I want to travel to a place that (forgive me for being so cheesy and un-strong) where I'd feel appreciated as a woman; for grace and femininity, for nurturing. Somewhere where hands are held, shoulders touched. I suppose what I'm saying is that I'm hungry for romance, or some semblance of it. I used to believe in it and sometimes even find it. But as one of my poems says, I was done so hard all of the romance fell out of my body. I want it back. But, then again I don't. To quote another line from one of my poems (is this narcissism Monday or what? Whatever, its my birthday week, I can do whatever I want.) I am appalled when I say follow and am followed.

Friday, February 11, 2011

bone tired

Busy week, I'm tired but happy. Much moving forward, the momentum builds. Fragments of stories are percolating. I'm waking up early again, working hard, sleeping early. Today after work, after a romp in the sunshine I plan to take a long nap so that I can be rested for the weekend. I don't have much planned but look forward to rest, respite, sleep, comfort Maybe a bike ride with the new bicycle basket for the dog attached.

Thursday, February 10, 2011


Happy that I'm busy. I forget that there is a joy in being bone-tired, how food tastes better and how the bed becomes the most wonderful place in the world. I went to bed before 10pm last night and slept deeply, with only a few odd dreams.

The manuscript goes out to three contests today.

Monday, February 7, 2011

years of this

Last night insomnia took over, again. I went to bed fairly early, slept for half an hour then was awake, heart racing. I spent some time on the balcony. I concentrated on my breathing. I stretched. Nothing, sleep wanted nothing to do with me. It was almost four before I finally slept, then the dog crawled out from under the covers and scared me and I was awake again. So, a late start today. The entire time I had the Smiths "Asleep" in my head.

Thursday, February 3, 2011


Cold this morning. I would be happy to stay in bed.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Hello, February

February has always been special to me. Maybe because my birthday is this month, but it doesn't make too much sense since I ever celebrated my birthday growing up. I think I enjoyed all of the pink hearts and candy in the stores, all the Valentines, even if I wasn't allowed to participate in the exchange of cards. I liked that I turned another year older.

When I was a kid I loved getting older as I thought people would take me more seriously. I was a braniac as a child, ridiculously well-read and obsessed with science. I was often frustrated when I wasn't taken seriously because I was a kid. I didn't like being a child, I found other children childish and immature and preferred the company of adults. Looking back I feel sorry for my little girl self, I wasn't really allowed or encouraged to be a child. But I don't bemoan the past. I'm grateful the isolation turned me introspective, creative.

Last night I had drinks and dinner with my good friend A, the therapist. I love our conversations, we crack each other up. I love picking his brain about behavior, boundaries and other little human interactions that fascinate me. Sometimes I consider going back to school to get my MFT. I love unraveling behavior to the root, the rebuilding that comes from it. A had a great quote about action and thoughts. I can't remember what he said but I agreed with it. We talked for a long while about the benefits of meditation. I try, I struggle. I make myself feel better by listening to a guided hypnosis several times a week. Settle brain waves, settle.

I dreamt of boats. I'd like to be on a boat.

Looking forward to seeing the Decemberists in a couple of weeks, they're my favorite band. I've had a brain-crush on Colin Meloy since I discovered the narrative ass-kicking his lyrics deliver, and the music moves me too.