A Little More Introspection

Not a love poem this time, just one that is how I feel... not that anyone cares, but after all, this is the place where I toss little pieces of me to the winds, perhaps hoping that they will coalesce into some sort of covering to warm my heart and protect me from harm and/or any more hurt or unhappiness. Why do I do it? The answer is one that almost every writer gives: Because I have to.

Learning...

I have learned from my own and other's failures
In many things, perhaps even motherhood,
How to roll with the punches, take the blows
And often rise above the whole damned thing.
To forget and forgive: family, friends, enemies,
For there is more to life, and fighting is useless.

Further, I have learned that war is useless,
Feckless, futile, ineffectual, hopeless and a waste.
How have I learned this? By living through
So many, of my own making, and my country's,
So many that I do not want ever to hear
The ludicrous ranting of some useless leader
Who cares so little about peace and prosperity,
About the life and death of his country's people,
That he will simply avoid diplomacy and declare war.

"At Break of dawn...

there is no sunrise... when your lover has gone..." and the damned weather has gone along with me for this miserable week, too. We're going into what they laughingly call 'winter' here in S.F. It just means that we get snivily, drisily dark days when you can stay inside and cry and nobody notices... and you can turn over at sunrise and finally go to sleep and nobody misses you 'cause who goes out in this weather anyway. Well, at least I guess that it means that I have finally come to and realized that after nine years of what I thought of as a 'forever friendship/love' has ended by my being dumped in an email. I still find it hard to figure out how he could spend at least eight years telling me and writing me about how much he loved me and then could suddenly write an email saying he didn't. He couldn't even call me... after I had sent him a phone card when he was in a mess and had no phone he could call me on. So much for love and romance... this is the last time I want to have anything to do with it. I love guys, but I want no more love affairs. What am I saying... at my age I doubt that I will ever have a chance at one again. Love doesn't run out, but I guess that time does. And to think that nine years ago I wasn't looking for love or romance... I was just looking for a writing partner. Well, we did write some interesting poetry together, but that was the extent of it, and now, in my depression, I am having trouble writing my name, let alone any stories. What am I saying again: I wrote a 3-day novel in which he figured prominently, got beaten up and wound up being brushed off, while I turned my sights to another nutty guy. Oh no... it was only fiction, but it felt good to have him beaten up.

One of my problems is that music is a big thing in my life... and certain songs bring K back and are hard to listen to. I love Lee Wiley and some of her songs were so much a part of "us"... like "Any Time, Any Day, Anywhere" which brings him back to me so quickly. And I find myself mooning around the house singing all the terrible old 'when your lover has gone' songs. I had forgotten how many of them there are, and a sweet program on KALW took the time to remind me of ALL of them. At least they serve to remind you that you are not the only person to suffer... there must be thousands... millions... billions... beating their heads against the wall and saying, "Why me? Why me?" And yet... they eventually stop crying and get back to work or play, or something like a normal life... so I guess I will also. But right now, just let me cry and get it out of my system. You don't even have to sympathize -- just tell me to shut up and go away... it might even help me to learn to say goodbye gracefully.

I Need to see a Face

I think I have just been told goodbye by K. I shall miss him...nine years of almost constant communication is hard to forget about, particularly with someone whose mind seemed to run on the same track as one's own. I'll probably never again know anyone to whom I say, "me too, me too" constantly, and get it back again constantly. Sad times, goodbye times. But I really have to see a face to believe what is said. A look... body language, all that, all necessary really to believe it's true. That, unfortunately will not happen, for it cannot. Sad.

But I guess best thing to do is accept it, so I have written a poem, as usual. Friend Erna from my poetry group also felt a great loss, and feels it is one of my best... I don't know, I can't judge anything this new. Maybe years from now I can look back and judge... if I last that long.

You

You are not my happiness
You are not the center of my life
For I have found contentment
Of a sort.

You may still live within me
In that confined, crowded space
With others I have loved
In my heart.

You cannot push them out
Anymore than I can toss you out
So learn to live with them
As I have.

For life goes on for me now
And even without you I can live
As if you had never been
My only love.

Isn’t it amazing that you fade
Into the clouds of my past
And might even disappear
From my life.

Confined with all the others
In that tiny, over-crowded place
Full of forgotten memories
That is my heart.

I did it, I did it! Finished the story for the 3-Day Novel Writing Contest on Labour(sic) Day Weekend. I'll never be the same (good lord, everything I say turns out to be the title of some old song from childhood...never be the same in this world...) If there is more I've forgotten it.

I was ruthless...used everyone I know, and some rather badly, in the story. Poor K got beaten up and J wound up in a bar, being stalked by a killer. I had a nice call from Gail to wish me happy birthday, so I threw her in as a therapist. Well, I told her I would and she said it was OK. I was up until dawn on Sunday night...when stationary things began to move around, I figured I'd better get some sleep and set my alarm and conked out. I lived on the fried chicken and potato salad Ana went and got for me, plus the lovely cherry pie...I am having another piece right now. She also got me some white zinfandel to have to salute the end, which I am doing, having sent Anastasia off to the Post Office today with the printed copy of "Obsessions, Passions, Fixations, Oh My..." and I was certainly happy to see it go in its little blue and white jacket from the P.O. It's gotten quite expensive to send anything to Canada...that little package cost me $10.95. I guess it's gone up in the US also though...I didn't bother to find out. It's only going up over the border to BC, so that seems like a lot.

Elvira will be back tomorrow and Sylvia and I will be happy to see her. We had a strange substitute Tuesday. She reminded me of nothing so much as a tiny Uncle Miltie. She came in, did the phone bit, went out to the kitchen and put on her plastic gloves, which were too large for her, and raced around, throwing stuff into the waste basket and folding and rearranging everything in the bedroom. She cleaned out all the big cardboard things I had stuffed under the cabinet in the bathroom and the place looks magnificent. Luckily she was too busy in the other rooms to come in and toss all my stuff in here, or I would never again see my 'important' papers. God knows what's gone, but right now I don't know so I don't care. Every time she came and did something for me I expected some of the Uncle Miltie schtik and sometimes got it. She even had dyed black hair...fabulous. Good thing she left at five...having to push the phone buttons a million times with those funny long plastic gloves...wonderful.

My crazy French phone in the bedroom fell and did something terrible to itself...half the time people can't get me, as it slides off. I may have to abandon it, but I hate to. And crazy Ms.Katt has taken to resting on top of my Dover bag, which is on top of my briefcase and my new gorgeous Levenger messenger bag (half-price sale!!) I'm afraid I have a thing for Levenger products. I cannot resist red leather accessories! Or the 'bomber jacket' leather series. Now I need somewhere to go to carry the lovely things. I got some new cards...purple, of course, and I had to have a new case for them. It is red and holds a little pad for writing also. One of these days I'll try to get more of my lovely fold-over cards that I used to write information on. Have to map them all out again and that is a chore. My new cards list me as Poet, writer, eccentric. That's me!

Saying Goodbye Is Hard

It's hard to say goodbye to the last of a group of brothers who figured so much in our country's history during my lifetime. The final Kennedy brother, the baby brother, has gone from this life and history. The way I shall remember him is as a man who made mistakes in his early years and spent the rest of his life working to make up for those mistakes. Everything he has done from his seat in the Senate was to help his fellow man woman and child, and to make this country a better place in which to live for all of us. His personal life was not a happy one, but he did not whine about it, and probably worked longer and harder than anyone else in Congress for this country and its people, sitting in the back of the room where he started, never pushing to the front as the other Congresspeople did. He always tried to get people to work together for the betterment of man, eschewing the usual pettiness of minor legislators. Teddy tried for consensus, but only if it meant that the country was being served well by that consensus. He worked for the best for all of us.

I shall miss that booming voice, the brilliant smile, and the good will of a great man who tried so hard to help those who often had no other voice to help them. Goodbye Teddy, in your own way you were the great one in your family and I fear you will never be replaced. A hard thing to say in this cold, sad world that now needs you more than ever.

Late Night Musings...

What I learned today: I am now told that the correct way to say aluminum is to use the English enunciation -- al-u-min-i-um, so I guess one must add the extra 'i' also. Strange. And what dictionary told us this... I have no idea. I guess I wasn't listening that intently.

I still cannot put any weight on my right foot without great pain ensuing. Have just about decided that it is a recurrence of the gout I had so many years ago, so I shall avoid all innards and all the other things one must eschew (have to look on the Internet and get a list) and hope it will stop stabbing me constantly and waking me up in the middle of the night. Most annoying. This would happen just when I was getting out and getting some exercise... now I shall have to begin again, if the stabbing stops. I found the elastic stockings from the knee ops, so I shall use them when I go out. I do want to go to some of the things in the S.F. Fringe Festival. Have been trying to find Joe Bullock as he usually knows all these people, but he has disappeared like all my friends seem to just when I need them.

At least I have written the bit I do with Mel for the Poetry Reading on Aug.25 in Yerba Buena Gardens... and the new 'Health Care' nursery rhyme for same. Hard to write when in pain. I do hope it is gone before Labour Day weekend and the 3-Day Novel Writing Contest, as I am determined to enter that this year. Which reminds me... I had better fill out the entry form, write them a check and get it in. Then I will surely write. So, off to bed now so I can get up early and get all the other stuff done -- letters to kidlets and clear out all the pileups of unopened and unread mail, both snail and emails -- too damned many of both for one person to handle. I need a secretary again... or a 'wife' or a bonfire... or perhaps all three.

Today I received something in the mail I have been wanting for a long time... of course, the mail people ran over it with a truck and broke the case, but the CD is OK, I'm pretty sure. It's a copy of Lee Wiley's "West of the Moon" album. Oh, if only I had that voice. She could slide from note to note like no one ever has... her phrasing is astounding, and that soft, almost Memphis accent, backed by some of my old Dixieland buddies from NYC... perfect. I'll listen to the whole thing tomorrow and feel like I'm back in New York. This is the album that all the musicians love... me too, me too. The title song just knocks me out.

Having spent the day not only getting my poetry writing done, but also working on getting the word out on health care reform, I am very tired... and so to bed... but before I leave, a quote of Mel Books' from an old favorite film, "The Twelve Chairs": "Hope for the best, expect the woist!"

Yeah, I'm STRONGER...

I keep telling my kids and all my young friends... don't get old. Well, I'm telling y'all IN SPADES tonight. I was doing as I was told, lying down with the foot up on a pillow, so what happened? The damned foot started stabbing me with pain, which it continues to do now, although it has let up a bit... I got up, as, why should I lie there and suffer, why not get up and suffer a little more... hell, I can take it... Oprah just started to tell me "YOU'RE STRONGER THAN YOU KNOW...How to tap into your true power and really make it work for you." Well, at least that's her word for the day in her HUGE and getting huger magazine "O." Jeeze, "Newsweek" is hurting for money, the ad revenue goes down and down for all the decent little mags like 'Atlantic' and 'Harpers'... and "O" is heavier every month (as is "Vogue," "Vanity Fair," etc.) and has more ads than any of them. Is this what this country has come to... a bunch of dippy women buying makeup and $500 a pair shoes, and what Oprah considers a nice little bargain of a dress for only $895. Here's an example of one of the 'advisors' pages on what YOU can buy that will make all the other ladies sit up and take notice: Versace glasses, $264, NARS lipstick $24, a cute little Smartcar for $11,990, Ralph Lauren Home 'throw' Blanket, $1,795, Marni skirt, $720, Orla Kiely case for your ipod, $298, Orla Kiely coat $699...my god, what bargains!!! Oprah, maybe you had better quit, I think I just spent my entire income for the year, and I didn't even get the iPod to put in that cheap little case!! Well, thank goodness, the Salvation Army is having its 50% off everything in the store this weekend. Not that my foot will allow me to go to the sale, but I can DREAM can't I?

Yep, getting old and being broke gets to be less and less fun when you can't put any weight on your foot. Well, you can still laugh once in awhile... I was on the phone with my friend Pat yesterday, and when she asked what I was doing, I said, "I'm just lying here with my feet in the air..." and then started laughing, as did she, at what I was saying. "Only problem is," I said, "I'm not having any fun..." and I imagine the picture going on in her head was probably the same as in mine. (OK, Whitney, if you don't like the tack this is taking, go read someone else's blog...) To continue: it gets harder and harder to be 'alone' as one gets older. Thank god I have Elvira and Anastasia and Ana, at least for a few hours, or perhaps until the governator decides to take them away from me so that he doesn't have to tax any of his wealthy friends.

Caretakers are already disappearing, and I fear that if I can simply move mine might be snatched away, too. I sure hope not, as I get the feeling that the reason the foot is biting me now is because I kept having to get up and either find things for the Elvira substitute I had today, or show her for the third or fourth time, how to work the 1-cup button on the microwave. Yes Oprap, I am stronger than I know...just hand me the cup and I'll do it myself! I made a typo on Oprah, but I kinda like it, so it will stay. Now here I sit alone, praying that Elvira comes back tomorrow...she knows where everything is, what I like to eat, how to...face it, do everything....she and Ana both.

Barry, wherever you are... dead and buried up there in Sonoma... I find myself missing you terribly. If you were here, you might be lying with your head in my lap, laughing at me and my complaining. That's how I remember you the best... fighting sleep and asking me a million questions... right now you would simply sit up, fold me in your arms and kiss me gently and so sweetly to shut me up... kind of a 'kiss and make it better' one. You were the best kisser, Barry... no, I take it back, Kirk was the best kisser, and yet he, like you, deserted me when he was having problems. The two loves of my life... my two love-at-first-sights... one at the beginning of my life, the other at the end... and how I miss them both. Of course, the first died young, but the second will probably outlive us all, up in the wilds of Or-re-gun. Funny, I had the same experience with both of them... an evening of questions back and forth... both of us talking fast to get it all in... followed by a long, long, wonderful kiss, whispers of how we loved each other, then out the door with calls of 'next time...next time..." and when 'next time' came, after what seemed forever... the flying together like magnets for a repeat of that kiss. Ah, an hello kiss can be even better than a goodbye one... and they were. So the aloneness swirls around my head as the foot quiets down and stops biting so severly. I guess I did just get it off my mind... practice breathing Peggy like Les told you to when Whitney wouldn't make her appearance in this world almost a month late... or as Nancy tells us to the breathe in the poetry before our group meeting... or as I have been told to do for meditation... can't fool me, it's all to get your mind off your pain or your problems, or your aloneness... I can do that deep breathing until the cows come home... DAMN, the pain just stopped. Wow. Maybe it does work! So I guess I had better hie me off to bed before it starts up again. Sylvia will give me her version of the 'kiss and make it better'... she'll lie on top of me and keep me warm. Hey, I'm not alone... I have a spoiled rotten Ms.Katt, Ms. Sylvia Katt stretched across my body and purring in my ear. What the hell more do I need!