pot stirred and stoppered

There’s probably a word for this feeling in some other language. This feeling of emotion built up and stuck. “Uptight?” Nope. It’s like a pressure cooker. Last night was fitful sleep…as in I kept having fits. At one point I was certain I was being held by the shadow of a man. I couldn’t turn; couldn’t move. I told myself to wake up; that this couldn’t be real. It took …

an uncertain equilibrium

Imagine a three foot wide walkway suspended at a great height. It’s solid. But you can see over the edge the potential for a great fall. You’re in no danger, other than your own body threatening to trip you up. There’s nothing particularly interesting that you can see ahead, there’s no going backwards, and this spot is already well explored. (There is just the slate slab and joint.) That’s what …

it’s just a body

Sprang for a massage chair. In the absence of regular sex, this is the best thing ever. The stroke was three (?) years ago, and since then I’ve had a bunch of problems. Tendonitis of the hip, a lower back vertabrae out of whack (not quite slipped) that’s been pinching a nerve and weakening the leg and additionally causing lower back pain, then there was that hormonal shitstorm called menopause. …

ending

It takes a long time for the heart to catch up with the brain. Maybe not so much to catch up, but to adjust to the reality of the present. On facebook the other day, the site so kindly offered me a video that said 8 years ago, I had friended my dad. He’s been gone for three years now, and the loss is still there, but it doesn’t hurt …

with age; value

Infinite shades of grey. That’s how the world is. Not sure that even the blackest black is all that, nor the white. Well, maybe there are some absolutes. I was dorm queen at the Pennsylvania Governor’s School of the Arts at the ripe old age of 26 (was it?). Old enough to be considered a grown up by these fifteen through seventeen year olds. This month long program of artists, …

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