It’s really hard to eat.
The progressed moon will conjunct the moon in 8th for me on October 22, so it’s pretty life and death, I suppose.
Increasing the beauty is going to help with what is so damn dark all these years. It hasn’t been me.
Failure to thrive is something we say about infants but it can happen to adults, too.
This is a matter of understanding negative introjects, even as an adult.
Last night I went out for the first time in years and years and years. When you are a wife you don’t really go out anyplace except with your husband, you know?
And if he doesn’t want to?
Then you don’t go.
All of things I used to love are all still true about me. I love movies on Sunday afternoons in winter. I love reading. Last night I just finished this. A friend sent the manuscript to me, but you can support it by buying it in the Kindle.
Oh, trust me — you are going to love this book if this month still effects your psyche ten years after the event that rocked this nation a decade ago.
Anyway, the book is a tell all of sorts but more importantly what it plants is a seed of hope for the reader at its finish.
So this morning, what seed do I plan to plant, I guess. In a garden of wreckage. Where I have had no hope.
Revisits Machado, here — a poem of his: The Wind One Brilliant Day Called.
I first read that at Pacifica in 1995. I was so full of hope then — that I might help others, that I would be a therapist as Dennis had been for me. Well?
Here I sit after working hour upon hour for agencies. My book got a rejection. Fuck.
I’m going to work on maybe figuring how to load it in Kindle — it’s really hard to do, was for the two short stories I put in there as a test.
You know? It would help to have some money at my disposal. It really would. it’s not that I want to buy into the material culture but I do want to be able to fix this effing house before it gets sold.
Plan for today — hang two paper lanterns. Do kitchen counters — arrange things differently on the counters. Soak sweet pea seeds with intention of planting them soon. I have seeds from last spring’s buy. Just like the paint cans, every years the seeds. Year after year after year after year.
Day four anti-d. Read horrible article this am on that. I feel clearer a bit.
Angrier maybe at what has been stripped from me that I might have had as a woman in this lifetime.
Like the promised child you know?
Anyway this whole progressed moon is just increasing my feminine aspects. Yesterday I looked at some really fab plates I wanted to buy. I haven’t thought about that in years. “No money.”
Yeah right. Am starting to realize what an effing discrepancy has been going on or something like that.
Saw some really fab plates from Portugal too. I loved them.
Last night I was invited to friends playing in a band and I went to hear them. They are great!
It was really odd to find myself listening to 80’s tunes. In the now. In those days I always went out.
Anyway, last night I danced. I was there about an hour because I was looking at what the baby boom looks like now. And I was thinking, you know, I am so out of the loop on all of this, seriously. Anyway, I got this fab skirt at the beginning of summer — not that I am buying clothes, you know. But I wore it. I was feeling a bit like Annie Hall last night I guess. 30 years after.
Okay. Skirts. Paper lanterns. The kitchen. This morning. An inventory of things. Which room to do first?
Have bed as sanctuary. Kitchen next. Then bookshelves. I am going to organize them. Mostly what I have are books. Books and Books.
From our beautiful boat that was sold by him in 2001.
I bought a piece of line for $1.98. Mabye I’ll try my hand at a turk’s head knot or something this morning. I love the ropework in that book. I used to dream about making all the things in it, once, for our boat.
I loved the boat.
Maybe I’ll live on one down the road. Maybe so.
I am detached from everything right now.
Except creating beauty in my immediate environment.
Sweet peas. I have two packs of seeds from last sring and these can be planted now for bloom in winter.
Flowers mean everything to me. They really do.
After the kitchen, comes the dining room. Paint, white paint. There is hardly anything here to show for the passage of 27 years.