Noah's Bitch

There is a time immediately following a disaster when all you can do is talk about it. Repeat the same story over and over again. And then three months later, when you are still trying to cope, finding the words that you used ad nauseum seem to fail you. Because you are tired. And depleted. And talking about it just seems so useless. And you just want to lay down and beg for a different life. Then when you are thinking there is no light at the end of the tunnel, bulldozers are in your ravine and dump trucks are dumping, excavator jaws are screaming and diesel fuel is the fragrance of hope. But you are still exhausted and stressed because life doesn't stop when all your personal shit has hit the fan. It's like a death. People are around when it first happens. It's the afterwards when they are needed most. You find you are just dragging yourself through another day. If it weren't for The Minion I think I might have gone out back and drowned myself in the body of water that caused all this. The meaning of Irene is "peaceful" in Greek. Fuck that. Mother Nature is a bitch.

temporarily lost at sea

It's been a bad week. Maybe it was the eviction notice. Pinot and Freddie seems a good way to escape for the moment. And the f*cking awesomeness of Ian Anderson performing with an orchestra. When I was younger I wanted to play like him. Or be his flute.

Winter

Makes me go to the "happy place" that features a sunny deserted beach, a pile of books and a pitcher of something sweet and buzz inducing.

I can never decide whether to shovel out the van before the plow comes, then do it again or wait till afterward and move triple the amount of snow. Not that it really matters. It's all the same snow, just rearranged.

I miss leaves and grass.

Resolutions

I'm not a fan of denying myself things that are pleasurable, so I rarely resolve to stop certain behaviors in the New Year. I don't need to lose weight, I like having a bottle of wine every few weeks and smoking 5 to 10 cigarettes a day isn't good for me, but I certainly smoke less than I used to. I could be nicer to folks that irritate me, but basically I avoid those in my life who make me feel like I need to break out the razor blades. At work I have the"helpful smile" down pat. New Year's resolutions remind me of Lent. Find me a Catholic happy about Lent. There aren't any. This evening I'm going to enjoy the bottle of Pinot Noir I just opened, nibble crackers slathered with fat-laden cheese log and go outside and puff.

But this year I am resolving to do something I will enjoy. I am going to send one postcard a month to a friend. Or maybe more than one friend. Or maybe even...a letter. I honestly don't remember the last time I received a letter. The postcards may be crammed with regards or they may relay a single word or a list of things I'm reading. Technology has made it far too easy not to spend time on people. To loosely quote someone who will begin receiving said postcards: After the revolution we'll have to start writing again.

Geethali Is Her Given Name..

Ravi Shankar's lovely daughter, Norah Jones



Happy Christmas!

she loosed the chain and down she lay

She sings the poem in its entirety on her album "The Visit".

Love Song circa 1981, Clapton is God and a Woman who sounds as Lovely as she did 20 years ago.