Sunday, June 29, 2008

Crazy Love

Seven years after the fact,
Like a blow to the head,
Every one of you dead.
Mama come home,
Daddy hold my hand.
I am so alone here
And fear the fog I’m dressed in.
Shroud, in the car I want to drift
To the highway’s shoulder,
Lay my head down
On glass.
I’m tired
Of this unrequited love,
The ache and the looking
And my empty empty hands.
Please don’t leave
Me here.

M.J. Tenerelli

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Dream Love


Good morning. Just got off the phone with Jr. who spent her first night in Weehawkin and has already seen a ghost! Male figure standing next to a ladder that she thought was Troy until she realized Troy was asleep next to her. LuLu went into the extension in the middle of the night and barked her head off until Jr. went and picked her up. Poor Jr.! Jr. and Troy June have much work to do in new house. Everyone say a prayer!

Kids are gone this weekend and I am going into NYC tonight to a poetry reading. Hurray! LC, if you are reading this, email me. Maybe we can have dinner afterwards. Indian? Have to figure out how to hook up new printer so I can print out new poems to bring, I think there's an open mike afterward. Anybody in the NYC area at six tonight, go to the Cornelia Street Cafe to hear excellent poets Miriam Stanley and Jackie Sheeler read.

So much to do here. Apt. needs to be condemned. Listening to the Siren Songs internet channel though, which will make it easier. Why do I hate cleaning so much? I hate mess, but that doesn't make me like cleaning any better.

My dreams have been like scenes from chick flicks lately. Romance to the nth degree, forbidden love, a little kissing, much longing, no sex, just powerful attraction and love like a teenage crush. Men from my everyday life that I don't actually like in that way...guess they're symbols. I'm a little nonplussed, what is going on with my head?

Time to vacuum. And fold clothes. And maybe read a little Shipping News in between. Have a wonderous day all.

Amelia

I was driving across the burning desert
When I spotted six jet planes
Leaving six white vapor trails across the bleak terrain
It was the hexagram of the heavens
It was the strings of my guitar
Amelia, it was just a false alarm

The drone of flying engines
Is a song so wild and blue
It scrambles time and seasons if it gets thru to you
Then your life becomes a travelogue
Of picture-post-card-charms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm

People will tell you where theyve gone
Theyll tell you where to go
But till you get there yourself you never really know
Where some have found their paradise
Others just come to harm
Oh amelia, it was just a false alarm

I wish that he was here tonight
Its so hard to obey
His sad request of me to kindly stay away
So this is how I hide the hurt
As the road leads cursed and charmed
I tell amelia, it was just a false alarm

A ghost of aviation
She was swallowed by the sky
Or by the sea, like me she had a dream to fly
Like icarus ascending
On beautiful foolish arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm

Maybe Ive never really loved
I guess that is the truth
Ive spent my whole life in clouds at icy altitude
And looking down on everything
I crashed into his arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm

I pulled into the cactus tree motel
To shower off the dust
And I slept on the strange pillows of my wanderlust
I dreamed of 747s
Over geometric farms
Dreams, amelia, dreams and false alarms

Joni Mitchell

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Any Major Dude Will Tell You

I never seen you looking so bad my funky one
You tell me that your superfine mind has come undone

Any major dude with half a heart surely will tell you my friend
Any minor world that breaks apart falls together again
When the demon is at your door
In the morning it won't be there no more
Any major dude will tell you

Have you ever seen a squonk's tears? Well, look at mine
The people on the street have all seen better times

I can tell you all I know, the where to go, the what to do
You can try to run but you can't hide from what's inside of you

Steely Dan

Monday, June 16, 2008

Not Sarah M., But Beautiful



Look what Buddy taught me to do! Above is Avril Lavigne doing a gorgeous cover of Adia.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Song in My Head


Adia

Adia I do believe I failed you
Adia I know I let you down
Don’t you know I tried so hard
To love you in my way
It’s easy let it go...
Adia I’m empty since you left me
Trying to find a way to carry on
I search myself and everyone
To see where we went wrong
’cause there’s no one left to finger
There’s no one here to blame
There’s no one left to talk to, honey
And there ain’t no one to buy our innocence
’cause we are born innocent
Believe me adia, we are still innocent
It’s easy, we all falter
Does it matter?
Adia I thought that we could make it
But I know I can’t change the way you feel
I leave you with your misery
A friend who won’t betray
I pull you from your tower
I take away your pain
And show you all the beauty you possess
If you’d only let yourself believe that
We are born innocent
Believe me adia, we are still innocent
It’s easy, we all falter, does it matter?
Believe me adia, we are still innocent
’cause we are born innocent
Adia we are still innocent
It’s easy, we all falter ... but does it matter?

Sarah McLachlan

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Thinking

Thinking this morning about the decency and strength of the people connected to my life. Thinking about love and the necessity of give and take, helping hands, the downside of too much solitude. All the people in my life who don't know how much I love them. How keeping the desire to give needs to be stoked because if you don't watch out, it curls up, dries out and drifts off as you get older. Fear causes a gathering in of the soul.

Read this yesterday and it knocked me out. From Howard's End by E.M Forster:

"Looking back on the last six months, Margaret realized the chaotic nature of our daily life, and its difference from the orderly sequence that has been fabricated by historians. Actual life is full of false clues and sign-posts that lead nowhere. With infinite efforts we nerve ourselves for the crisis that never comes. The most successful career must show a waste of strength that might have removed mountains, and the most unsuccessful is not that of of the man who is taken unprepared, but of him who has prepared and is never taken. On a tragedy of that kind our national morality is duly silent. It assumes that preparation against danger is in itself a good, and that men, like nations, are the better for staggering through life fully armed. The tragedy of preparedness has scarcely been handled, save by the Greeks. Life is indeed dangerous, but not in the way morality would have us believe. It is indeed unmanageable, but the essence of it is not a battle. It is unmanageable because it is a romance, and its essence is romantic beauty."

Yes yes yes yes yes.

Monday, June 09, 2008

Heat


Holy god, it is 10:00 p.m. and 93 degrees. Tomorrow school will be closed if it gets to 100 degrees. Lost cable and phone for a while this evening, traffic lights out too. Thank god the A/C is still going.

In other news, the boy has lost air gun privileges because because he shot the computer screen. There is now a bullet ding in the screen. In happier news, the new beds for the kids came today and they rock; really comfy and twice as thick as old ones.

Last night I dreamt I was having a screaming fight with BFI through a screen door. I would like to a have a dream where I run his head over repeatedly in the driveway.

Back hurts from hoisting old beds to curb and putting up new ones so I am going to lay down now. Maybe Cash Cab is on....

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Robert Frost

Sunday, June 08, 2008

Dead T.V.



Are you people watching that t.v. show Lisa Williams Talks to the Dead? That may not be the exact the title, but holy god that show scares the bejesus out of me. Not the parts where she is channeling people's dead mothers and spouses. It's the haunted house part, where nasty energies bellow at her to get out and zoom through her body and show her how they got their heads blown off in drug deals gone wrong etc etc. She actually said last night to some horrible man who throws people's luggage out of "his" room in a hotel, "If you are here touch me or one of the crew." I can just imagine the camera guys thinking "WHAAAAA?" Do not touch ME guy who decapitated a blonde and threw her in the closet! I have been watching entirely too much T.V. Fox cancelled New Amsteram. The show about the guy who was given the "gift" of eternal life by native americans in the 1500s in New York and is now a cop in NYC. I thought that show was genius and am now in mourning. I am very pathetic lately. And speaking of pathetic, I am suddenly blocked from buddy/FP's blog...FP, send me an invite so I can get back in!

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost

Sunday, June 01, 2008

Dropping the Axe

After the dusty tablet
I know my core again
The hard oak
Life of the two of you.
I have dreamt of leaving you behind,
When my feet are your roots
My belly your bark and bulk.
The elemental can only be revered.
How easily I would be felled
Without this dense love,
Without the sacred trees
Of the two of you.
How useless
my wild dreaming otherwise.

MJ Tenerelli
I Don't Know Why You Say Goodbye



New meds and back from the dead. Sunday and listening to Coast to Coast A.M. show about angels, getting ready to clean house. Think some stuff got resolved in dreams last night, though no clear idea what. I actually slept through the night! Kids with BFI until tonight. Disturbing images of the silver revolver gone away again. Being crazy is exhausting.

Back

We try a new drug, a new combination
of drugs, and suddenly
I fall into my life again

like a vole picked up by a storm
then dropped three valleys
and two mountains away from home.

I can find my way back. I know
I will recognize the store
where I used to buy milk and gas.

I remember the house and barn,
the rake, the blue cups and plates,
the Russian novels I loved so much,

and the black silk nightgown
that he once thrust
into the toe of my Christmas stocking.

Jane Kenyon