Archive for the ‘random thoughts that cry out to be heard’ Category


July 2, 2010

I woke up wondering why I felt slightly enthusiastic. What was happening?  A trip? Pastries? Then I remembered the glory of the extra day off – and the slow, unremarkable, routine 8 hour workday I still had to get through.

It’s not that I hate my job. It’s just that I like doing and imagining so many things more.

Like drinking a leisurely cup of coffee in the morning. Or imagining drinking a leisurely cup of coffee at a Vermont campsite surrounded by pine trees in the damp morning air.

Like staring off into grey skies. Or imagining staring off into grey skies from the porch that looks out over the meadow and duck pond of my home in the country.

Like making a small origami box. Or imagining a small origami box, the paper it’s made from, the love notes it’s filled with and the look of it on my doorstep.

Like baking a blueberry cake. Or imagining the sound of the bucket that clunks against my leg as I walk up the hill past the big elm tree to the blueberry patch.

Hunkered down in my cubicle with 4 more hours to go I close my eyes for just a moment. I see the pale pink petals as they float to the ground.

My existential crisis is pointless

October 27, 2009

Just wondering about the point of all this – the bureaucratic paperwork, unraveling relationships, being reasonable and creating meaning out of  mundane repetition.

I think about train stations that smell like piss and an old man I once saw shopping for rosaries at the Salvation Army.

Yesterday I was content  making tiny pumpkin books and apple “brownies” and playing Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary among the dirt and flowerpots.  

Today I feel empty. I’m a  nihilist poseur, a label that means nothing because nothing has any meaning. 

I am familiar with this feeling, though I do not understand it. What’s needed is a slice of late afternoon sunlight. It’s not a remedy. It’s magic.


April 21, 2009

You can’t reason with your brain when it enters worry mode in the middle of the night. It will go where it wants to. There is no stopping it. It will act out scenarios and present little dramatic plays which, though entertaining, are not relaxing. At 3:45 my brain turns into Quentin Tarantino.

I’ve given up trying to reason with it. 

Shake vigorously for fresh-squeezed taste.

Maybe I’m Just Tired

April 5, 2009

(My heavy head is full of debris  -As Tall As Lions)

Like my sick kitty, the wisdom teeth, the car mirror, locking the keys  in the car, getting my hand stuck in the shredding bin, and people who don’t help their kids.

(I know we’re all souls just trying to connect with someone – As Tall As Lions)

Dan Nigro played in bare feet and said his father owns a paper company like Dunder Mifflin, and my sick kitty is brave and full of purrs even when she’s unwell, and it’s National Poetry Month, and she made me an ATAL shirt and he gave me a Liguus fasciatus shell.

(You’re lost in your mind -As Tall As Lions)

Is anything going to happen in Agnes Grey or is she just going to go on and on about being a governess and will I ever figure out what’s going on in Little Dorit or will I just continue to watch because of Matthew MacFayden, will she get better or will she just keep losing weight, is she in pain, how much better looking can Jack get and when will Des be on again, do people really get what’s coming to them (is it wrong of me to hope they do) and what’s the plural of amaryllis?

(I stay awake thinking this life is lonely – As Tall As Lions)

Maybe that’s why I just want to sit and work on eggs, bent over the table, listening to music, getting a stiff neck. Lost.