fire and night and a tired soul.
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Thoughts and Feelings
as Appleton Road, bruises, campfire, close, dancing, easy answers, embers, heat, home, house, inner dialogue, last dance, life, measuring stick, movement, peanut gallery, respectability, road, self, time
I smell like burning things and ashes and heat and outside.
I smell like the night and the time of year when Pennsylvania becomes her wild, gypsy self all over again; she is movement and color and light dancing on the tops of the trees; she is here but fleeting, always fleeting, so you’d better go out and see her now. She is the last dance before Winter comes and reminds her to slow down and rest; that life is very long and you might actually need to sleep a little from time to time.
I smell like the crisp cold air that presses up against me, all around, so I press in, close as I can–so close, in fact, that I keep an eye on my boots, watching to make sure they don’t become just one more thing burning.
I smell like a campfire.
There was one tonight, right outside my house. And long after everyone had gone home, I went back to the fire. I was sad and the fire brought some comfort. I stared at the embers a long time. I listened to the cars passing by on nearby Appleton road and imagined them something else. Something more interesting, something otherworldly. They were monsters. They were dinosaurs. They were the sounds of unrest. They were the sounds of my inner dialogue.
I wonder, sometimes, how long my heart will be a peach that bruises so easily.
Somebody said something tonight that made me feel terrible. They didn’t mean to. But I felt it go right inside of me, even as I laughed it off. And the thing is, if someone would make fun of me for being short or maybe for being large, I wouldn’t really care at all, cause I might be a lot of things, but I am not short or large.
But when someone says something that is too close to home, I get down on myself. I take out a measuring stick and I am found wanting. I think about my life this time last year and I mourn the respectability of that. The quick and easy answers that came with simply having a job that I loved, being married (end of story and no more questions from the peanut gallery), knowing what was next. Which isn’t real, anyway, but man, the illusion is to die for.
But that fire, it was good. It asked no questions and made no judgements. We were just two entities, respecting each other as such. I understood it was very hot, so kept my distance; it understood I was very cold, so stayed just close enough. It didn’t mind my tears; I didn’t mind its ashes.
Life is just about every little thing, isn’t it? And you feel all of it and that’s exhausting, but better, I am sure, than feeling nothing at all.
baths and secrets. but not secret baths, that’d be weird.
in Thoughts and Feelings
as A. Mess, Appleton Road, baby bear, bath, brother jason, door, house, Jason, Mama Bear, Mexico, papa bear, sun, time
First, I’ve been feeling like Goldilocks lately.
And not just because of the color of my hair.
More because, see, I am a fan of a good bath. But recently I’ve been striking out. And it’s been all Papa Bear or all Mama Bear all the time while I’ve had to jump out of the water, it being too hot or too cold, without ever finding my Baby Bear kind of just right.
And a bath is a commitment. It takes some time to fill the tub, not to mention the fact that it is a drain on my bubbly resources. And no, I don’t mean champagne because no, I don’t have any of that. What I do have is some precious stuff that makes the water smell really nice and then get all good and bubbly and so you understand that I don’t like to waste it.
Oh well, there are worse things, I suppose. Like the time I was in Mexico and showering regularly with cockroaches that looked like they ate better than some of the people I met down there.
Next, I have pink shoulders.
Why?
Oh, because of that lovely and unbridled sun. Because of the way it encouraged me to wear a tank top. But also because it’s still the tricky month of March, and though I remember to grab a sweater before I run out the door, I don’t quite remember to wear sun screen. And though I remember to sit in the sun for a very long time, I don’t quite remember that my shoulders have been through a long winter and perhaps I would do well to ease them into sun worshipping rather than bam! here’s the sun: get to it!
And lastly, I am slowly building up some secrets. And now my brother Jason has stopped reading because he is busy texting me, asking me what secret I am referring to on here.
But what I mean is, I am becoming like a city enclosed again, I think.
Or maybe just a nice little home. Some flowers out front. A piano inside. But a lock on the door, which is kind of nice too.
See, there is this house on Appleton Road that I pass by quite a lot. And house is putting it kindly; it’s more likely called ruins. There is no ceiling, no door, and nothing close to four walls. This house, it has no secrets. Anybody passing by can see exactly what is going on, if they care to look. All that it contains is exposed, poor thing.
And sometimes it reminds me of me. Or at least the way I’ve been. It’s weird to be an adult and have your life completely exposed. To suddenly have the door ripped off the hinges and the blinds pulled up, and everybody saying, Oh, wow. That’s what’s going on in there? What. A. Mess.
But now I’m gathering some secrets and I’m feeling less exposed and I’m less like wickipedia and I’m more like a journal and there are songs that I have written that I cannot yet sing for you and there are pages I am writing that nobody has read and I’m feeling some autonomy and I’m feeling less like ruins and I like the feel of a door right here again and I’m careful about who I let through it, can you blame me?
And I think all of this is a pretty good idea.
One heck of a run-on sentence, but still, a pretty good idea.
rapping and the milk fairy. but not rapping about the milk fairy.
in Funny Stuff, Loved Ones, Thoughts and Feelings
as A. So, Appleton Road, carton of milk, cereal milk, Chick-Fil-, Claus, day, fairy, getting a divorce, kind, milk, morning cereal, rap
Oh my gosh, I wrote a song that’s kind of like a rap. And yes, my goodness YES, you can laugh. But okay, now that was enough laughing. I haven’t played it for anyone yet, but wow, I have a good time playing it for myself. I was driving in the car and thinking about [...]
