prone and back to back ( Read more... )

Thinking a lot about writing, performing, and social media... 5.5 years ago today, my very first DiaryLand post started like this:


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Why, oh why can't I keep my fingers on the home keys?
Thirty-odd years since my first encounter with a QWERTY keyboard, and I still hover-hunt-peck like a near-sighted crone....

I'm having a rough moment....a series of rough moments, really....strands and strands of rough moments, tangled as a yoke of Mardi Gras beads. Luckily, I'm good at knots - the daily pluck-and-pull, untangling of knots....It's just that right now my hands are shaking, and my damn eyes keep filming over with almost, almost, almost tears.
( This morning was tough )

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hand-written letters
creased with care
ink-winged cranes in flight

Listening to Keren Ann. Sipping Assam tea. Watching K and Anna play through a window rimmed with snow. I pour steaming chai into a mug for him, warm Ovaltine into a red-capped cup for her. Forced air rustles newspapers awaiting frosty boots. Under the living room table, rabbits doze, cuddled close. There's a wine-bathed pot roast simmering in the ( Read more... )

I sometimes feel like I've entered the enchanted fairy tale phase of a bookish life. Started out a plucky Dickensian waif. Slogged through an adolescence scripted by the brothers Grimm. Spent my late teens and early twenties C. S. Lewis-ing it up as a gung-ho Christian "artiste". Next phase: a little Plath, a little Wolfe, a little Dostoevsky. Jung ( Read more... )

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It's late and I am cranky and we snap back and forth 
then I stomp up the stairs mutter curses with each breath 
brush my teeth with a vengeance yank the clip from my 
hair hurl my clothes at the hamper rip the covers from 
the bed toss my body on the mattress punch the pillows 
with my head 'til his hands gentle on me as apologies 
exchange ( Read more... )