On purses

Tonight Courtney reminded me of freshman year, when I started out still carrying my purse around all the time. And at the time, I liked it a lot. I didn't even feel complete without it oh MAN DO I HAVE TO RETYPE EVERY WORD WITH AN "H" IN IT AND WHAT EXACTLY GOT UNDER THIS KEY?

Anyway. Looking back, I know that that purse was cumbersome, unnecessary, inefficient; it restricted my movement, my lifestyle. And for better or worse, the sad fact is that I don't love it anymore.

This is not an ethical issue for others to judge. This is part of my life, and in my life I am glad to have moved on. Maybe someday I'll settle down with another purse that meets my needs. In the time being, I'm happy with a cheap wallet.

Stuck!

Driving the interstate on my way back to Michigan this year, I came across one of the species that could be called the law-abiding train-- recognizable by the police car embedded in the midst of several normal ones. This particular one travelled at about sixty-four miles an hour. (The speed limit was seventy.)

I couldn't really get to the alarm clock stuffed into a laundry bag in my back seat, but I had an idea of the time, and I was already running late.

I have passed police car trains at perfectly legal speeds.

"I'm gonna pass this thing," I said to myself. "See ya."

Well, I would have done exactly that... before. Before the first pull-over and probably even after it. But probably not after the third one and definitely not the fourth.

I couldn't do it.

I'm losing my edge.

Seen and unforseen

Early January: In a discussion over the kitchen table with Dad and Marty, I revealed that I had flunked an English class. That is pretty flammable material. My revelation was deliberate, if not... planned, and I'm very pleased to say that I wasn't afraid of their reactions at all.

Dad actually surprised me. As I'd predicted, he couldn't help but get in a little dig by the end of the night, but I think he sees me as more human since coming into such knowledge. I think his mild distaste was combined with a new warmth.

I guess there are other ways I could have shown him I'm human, such as dismantling my torso and handing him my organs, but I see elements there that might distract from the main point.

Gold in the clay

Not sure if it matters
But you're still magnetic
When your pieces are scattered
And have no direction
It must be the way
Of the stuff you're comprised of
Like gold in the clay
When it loses its shine
Love is diseased

Erythraeum

Seven shadows grim and tall
Grow and focus on the wall of
Water sculpted in the sky
Thicker than our blood

If creatures breach the fluid dam
And in the ancient cradle land
Clay will fill the vacant eyes
Bones lie in the mud

Turn the fevered wails to ash
God, the demon faces laugh
Stitched with cravings of our past
Vomiting our grime

To our backs the sun erupts
Scalds a name into the dust
Were our faces not our masks
We could see it climb

Mottled clouds of frosty black
Of what we carried on our backs
Our captors' monuments and tombs
A stranger's barren spires

Will we hold the children's hands
Turn in feeble trust again
Feel the rush of light consume
Flood our eyes with fire