friday

the last time (before the show and tell haircut) i posted, i told all y'all how i hadn't been able to finish a decent post. i think the words were unfit for publication. anyway, the coconut krewe now knows all the backstory, so i can talk about what's been happening here on the plantation.

we have been distressed, my darlings!

these past few weeks have been spent in conversation, sometimes quiet, sometimes loud, sometimes politically charged global and local, but lively. they have also been occasionally mean and unbelievably hateful, but that ugliness never carried over to the next day or even the next hour. the pressure just had to be relieved and of course, it has to be with the one person who can look at you and laugh and make you laugh, too! (we can't possibly ever leave one another because of that!) there is a heavy cloud hanging over the plantation — we are living in faulkner's south at its most hostile. we aren't unique, i know that, but...

miss daisy is not well, so life has been a series of visits to doctors and tests and many, many phone calls. the MITM is one of 3 siblings, but she does live with us, so he's point man on this. i'm just the grunt/worker bee. (sometimes, it's good to be an orphan.) sometime during the last year, but no later than 3 months ago (prior to the MIR), miss daisy had a small stroke. no one knew it had happened. she is different from the woman who moved in with us 1.5 years ago and very different to the woman she was just last december. she's different every day, sometimes, minute to minute.  (note: if you have an elderly relative or friend, make sure their primary doctor sees them personally  more than once a quarter.)


she's angry about her decline, when she's aware.
she's angry with us because we know.
she's angry because she's old.

we've spent a lot of time researching her condition and how we need to deal with her when it's her illness speaking and not her. it isn't easy dealing with a woman who has been a drama queen/diva all of her life. but, what can you do, except smile and remember the good times. it's especially difficult for the MITM because she is his mother and he has to leave again soon. it's very difficult watching someone you've known all your life change in a matter of months.

i have to say, living with her is a cautionary tale about getting as healthy as possible while you still can! it's also about looking at who i am now and trying to correct those nasty habits that only become ugly ways when you're old.  it is also a reminder that expressions of kindness are not always easy, but you never, ever regret them. a sharp tongue or a sarcastic retort may dance off the tip of your tongue, but once out will remain with you far longer than the satisfaction of the witty comeback to someone who doesn't always remember you didn't go to school together.  (didn't i read somewhere that doing sudoku is good for your brain? note to self: look for those puzzles.)   

so, be nice, it's much easier. 
and then go find a quiet corner hidden from sight and jump up and down and silently scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~

i haven't blogged in days and now i can't stop. i guess by now, all y'all realized that mr. moose used my blog instead of his. i know, all y'all knew instantly it wasn't me! proper grammar, punctuation and structure? of course, it wasn't me!

~~~~~~~

this community we've formed has helped me in so many ways. over the past few weeks i've seen our community at its best: comforting each other over the loss of a friend, sharing concerns over the absence of another, offering words of cheer and support to more than one in need. we may not always agree on everything, but isn't that the way of friends? the diversity of opinions/people challenge and engage us, encourage personal growth and expand our awareness on a very human scale. it isn't just reading about events in another place, it's sharing them with people who live there and understanding the impact not only on their lives, but on our own. it's human nature, i know, but i think of the people i know when i read about events overseas, or here in the states...it's all very personal.

who says blogging is dead?

~~~~~~~~~~
 btw, thank you for all the comments  about my haircut! we figured out that it was almost 3 years to the day since my last (same style, same stylist) haircut.




so, there it is. fit or unfit for publication, all y'all can decide.

Smoke & Mirrors

I love reading about the intersection between writing and real life; it's fascinating how memory and dream and the other raw materials of living get composted into fiction. But writers and readers have a hard time talking about it for some reason. As if writing is supposed to be purer, or maybe just more straight forward than all that, no one knows how to categorize the experience. Perhaps we are uncomfortable with alchemy here in the modern world. Or maybe we're just uncomfortable with things we can't label easily. Still, it's a silly discussion. As N. once said, "Writers need to stop denying their work is autobiographical and readers need to stop asking if it is." Colson Whitehead has been pretty open about how he used his own childhood as a broad template for his last novel "Sag Harbor". But even he gets a little snippy when he comes face to face with the question:

How is Benji different from you?

I tend not to act or feel or talk in a way that would add anything worthwhile to an extended work of fiction. I tend not to do things that lend themselves to dramatic unity, aesthetic harmony, and narrative discharge. My leitmotifs are crappy. I need an editor or someone of artistic bent to shape my useless existence into something that would interest other people. Also, I am a real person.

I can see him at his computer punching the keys in a furious rhythm, smirking and barking to himself in triumph. "That should shut them up once and for all!"

matter of trust

it might not seem like much, but today i cut my hair. almost 14" will be donated to matter of trust to help collect crude oil in the gulf. my favorite salon, b street salon is part of the program to collect hair that will ultimately end up as booms/mats to collect some of the mega gallons of crude gushing up from the ocean floor. sometimes, a lot of people doing a little something can make all the difference in the world.

happy birthday, roses!!!

yes, today's her day! drop by roses' place and wish her a happy 40th! she's a darlin girl and the party is delish!



(i'm not really back, but all y'all know how much i love parties! especially birthday parties!)

thank you, poets.org

so you want to be a writer?
by Charles Bukowski
if it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don't do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, don't do it. if you're doing it for money or fame, don't do it. if you're doing it because you want women in your bed, don't do it. if you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again, don't do it. if it's hard work just thinking about doing it, don't do it. if you're trying to write like somebody else, forget about it. *if you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of you, do something else. if you first have to read it to your wife or your girlfriend or your boyfriend or your parents or to anybody at all, you're not ready. don't be like so many writers, don't be like so many thousands of people who call themselves writers, don't be dull and boring and pretentious, don't be consumed with self- love. the libraries of the world have yawned themselves to sleep over your kind. don't add to that. don't do it. unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don't do it. unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it. when it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you. there is no other way. and there never was.     *thank you, UB, for letting me know there was more. it was one i wasn't familiar with, but sensed there might be more.

just so y'all know...

i keep trying to write and end up with drafts that are unfit for publication. 

i am so glad all y'all aren't similarly afflicted! i've been reading and sometimes commenting, just to let y'all know i haven't forgotten my pals. it seems we just need a bit more time...

xoxoxo