Archive for July, 2009

Coffee, wine & sex

July 23, 2009

I told D he was not allowed over for at least two days. I really need to recuperate. I have once again started up with my coffee binge (that’s two espressos a day instead of my usual one). That’s not good in itself as it leads to dizziness. But then when I go and add alcohol and sex to the mix (and lack of sleep) it becomes lethal. It’s only a matter of time before I run myself into the ground. I actually left Kelly’s class twice this morning because of dizziness. I thought I was going to pass out or die.

She talked about “balance” in class today, about the importance of balance and how your mind, not just your physical body, needs to work extremely hard to achieve physical balance. When I start eating junk and drinking excessive amounts of coffee, I am truly upsetting the balance. Mind, body, spirit; all of them are affected. I need to pull back, rest, and reset my mind to focus on balance.

I’m currently reading: “Buddhism for the West.” It’s a rather old book and smells horribly old too. But it’s good. It talks about clasping your hands together to pray or bow. How that symbolizes the “coexistence of two inseparable worlds…two aspects of one Cosmic life.” I liked that. It leads me to believe that the strife, imbalance and addiction, at times, inside me, belongs there, but can be quelled and coexist with the more peaceful side of who I am.

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Just askin’: toothpaste

July 21, 2009

At what point in your life do you opt to buy a “small” tube of toothpaste? Considering that you’ll probably be using the stuff for life, don’t you think you’d always want the larger, more-value-for-your-money size?

Just nod your head for “yes!”

July 14, 2009

But then when he had got settled at the hotel, and they had started their little pattern of cafe life at the Eckmühl-Noiseux, there had been nothing to write about- he could not establish a connection in his mind between the absurd trivialities which filled the day and the serious business of putting words to paper. – The Sheltering Sky

I am at a point of stunted growth, or shall I say, blankness. I have no mind right now for words and meanings and conceptual thinking. And it will take grad school to bring it all back to me. I was talking to A last night, who I’ve known since PBQ, circa 2002. She’s just finishing up the MA program, while I am heading into the MFA. She was telling me, “your soul will just explode with creativity and energy for life once you begin your classes.” I am so hoping this is true. Lately, to which I’m sure this blog attests, I have been uninspired. The only thing on my mind is love and making love and sex and D and keeping my kids busy and happy and grateful this summer. And though all that is GREAT, I really can’t wait to begin caring for my mental state. I can only handle “suburban housewife” trance for a few years at a time before going nuts.

Dream of the week: bees and recovering alcoholics

July 3, 2009

Alex2_Wicker_Man-500

I slept like crap last night and nearly had a panic attack. When I finally did go somewhat under, I dreamed that I was being attacked by bees. They were covering my entire body and head as if I were a beekeeper, and the only way to get rid of them was to dive into a pool. D and I were covered together and constantly trying to hide from these bees.

I woke up, took aspirin for a bad headache, and fell back to sleep. In the morning I dreamed that I was in a huge parking garage in New York City which had many exits leading to the street, but some you had to walk through malls or bars to get out. I was with a bunch of business men and decided we we’d go through a bar before heading home and once inside, Alcoholics Anonymous was having some kind of convention. Everyone was drinking juice except this one guy. He looked much like BJ and he was drinking beer in a shots glass. Everyone was trying to convince him to quit drinking and he kept laughing at them saying, “you think your ways are right, but I’m the one that’s happy…”

The anniversary

July 1, 2009

Doug’s “We left our watches…” reminded me of an old piece I wrote about five years ago called “The Bed,” that I’m posting below.  I’ve renamed it “the anniversary.” It was written as a tribute to Faulkner and an imitation of his writing style.

photo__Hotel_Room_by_silentmagician2001

Photo by: ~silentmagician2001 (deviantart.com)

THE ANNIVERSARY

A man and a woman stood at the foot of an old bed in a small, lousy, creaking  hotel room, with hardwood floors and the smell of staleness and closedupness. It wasn’t a king bed, not even a queen. It was a double, deceitfully grand, and covered over in one of the proprietor’s chenille bed covers- over a mattress dipping down noticeably in the center.

“It won’t be much effort in us falling close together, you and me,” he said, touching her shoulder, and her eyes opened and closed with excitement and shame. His face had been dreamed up so often by her that now, it seemed different. Not the same.

The sheets were cold, but white; the pillows sadly pulpless, deflated by a long history of faceless faces buried in them. Its one redeeming quality, the room, was the window with its openandclose shutters and transparent yellow drapes that caught the west wind in summer and the cool and renewing salt of the ocean breeze in winter. An old confederate wicker-back chair sat there at the window at a sideward glance. Its placement revealing secrets of previous guests.

The woman smiled at the man, not feeling false or untrue, and began to undress. There wasn’t much time. And yet, they both, simultaneously and unknowingly, felt as if their relationship had lasted through those entire ten years. In the cool empty timelessness of the room they felt like an old married couple, seventy, maybe even eighty, still in love and lasting, here to revisit the antiquity of their past as proof that they’d outlasted time itself. “And we have lasted so long, you and I, haven’t we, dearest?” he asked.

The woman lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. She thought for a moment how permeable she’d been to the pain and suffering of her life, how at times she wanted to run away and lose herself in the abyss of unknowing. She thought of the sacrifices she had made for her family. And the sad resignation that there would always be a hopeless emptiness to her.  But before she lost herself too deeply in these wounds, she opened her eyes, outstretched her arms and nodded, “Yes.” Through the musty thin air of the so long shut up hotel room, the man and the woman embraced. Their newlovesmells and happy breath and perfumed spiritscents swirled like a sweeping breeze through an open window. Here. Timeless. As the dust settled from their last visit, they once again stirred their hearts, falling impatiently, younglaughing, into the dip down curve of the old bed.