not really a story...
this night, after seeing captain marvel again, 2nd time with my daughter abhaya
it was great. and now listening to the new and I suppose last Download album by cevin key from skinny puppy and phil western who passed recently. much lighter than skinny puppy which is nice right now. I have not really been able to listen to s.p. as much lately, too dark and heavy. I ordered this new Download album on bandcamp and a limited red vinyl version, as I now have a new small turntable/record player.
I have not listened to Download in a while. I’m tired but trying to do at least a little writing, just like I started in high school in the early 80s, the idea of writing a little bit every day, even one word. or drawing or making art for 5 minutes. or meditating for 5 minutes. working on my new memoir/novel.
tomorrow will be taking abhaya to a horse lesson, worrying about money, going grocery shopping, therapy, a dance performance somewhere. waking up to coffee, maybe meditation, writing, art. my week of corporate tech sales has crushed me but I will be ok in the morning.
a prose poem? what is this worldly thing, this flower bursting out of its seams with butterflies and flying fish and fire. that energy of the woman, the new woman who is thin with greysilver hair and bright blue jewish eyes that see me in a way only a magic bird could see me. as if the red cardinal flew above the white snow and saw me for the very first time. digging in the sandbox, that rope swing that existed on the willow tree or maybe only in that dream last year. a memory or a dream, eating corn and apple sauce with a spoon and that picnic where my father yelled at me again, the spoon, the wrong, so wrong.