i've been under the ground reading prayers from this old book i found under the ground

Apr 04, 2007 00:12

over the past few months, i have consistently told myself to post in my livejournal to no avail.  perhaps i don't really have much to say, but it's more likely that i have had too much to say;  so much of which can't be articulated.  i used to write about this all the time (and used to write about writing it all the time, as well).  the way we try and try and try, as hard as we possibly can, to fully articulate the way we feel and the things we experience, and yet there is always the bit that gets lost between the living and the writing; it's that bit that makes living into writing.  that's why living is living and writing is not living, but writing, i suppose-- but that's obvious, right?

something true: the last twelve months have been the hardest of my life thus far.
is that just inherently true because of the age i'm at (and have just entered, perhaps)?  will each year after this one become successively more complicated?  will that be true simply by virtue of the fact that it will be an addition to the years before?  or, do things, at some point, occasionally, normalize? 
something true: this has left me writing less and less.
objectively, i would assume the opposite would be the case, but it's just not.
i cling to the fullness of the last twelve months, but not to the brand of fullness they possess.
i wish i were already at the stage of articulation.  i wish i had the distance needed in order to have that.

in less pensive obscurity: good things have been happening this spring.  good things happening to people i care so much about, and by extension, good things happening to me.  more details on those things later.
as for me, patrick and i have embarked on an enormous project in the backyard which has the signs of spring renewal project written all over it: from the breaking down of concrete and planting seed, to the compost heap and the new bird feeder.  the whole back area of the yard (approximately six by twenty feet), we discovered, under about two inches of dirt, was covered in brick.  as we were planning on planting our garden back there, we had to go about the task of digging up the hundreds of hundreds of bricks, and finding something to do with them.  also, given that i sprained my ankle two weeks ago, patrick had to do most of the work on his own, bless his heart.  it was an intense project, and so far from done, but i'm excited about what the results will be.   heather (the roommate) said tonight that her favorite thing about us  (p and me) is that we are so "wholesome"; i.e. we cook together several times every day, we garden together, etc.  when she said this, i was happy.  simply so.  on sunday, i told p that i imagine years and years from now, when we're seventy-four and seventy-five, respectively, we will look back on the mornings and nights we habitually spent in the orange kitchen of my apartment, me in my two-dollar apron, stirring a pot, and he chopping onions (since i cry like a baby when i do) in his old jeans and no socks, and see them as some of the most wonderfully blissful times of our entire lives.  speaking of p and all the mushy, sappy stuff that goes along with, i leave for pittsburgh tomorrow morning.  i will be spending the late afternoon into the evening sitting in the bakery trying desperately not to distract him from his duties, but being bored out of my wits, i'm sure.  however, after the six hours of boredom follow six days of freezing temperatures and sharing space, the most time we've ever spent together (can you believe it?).

the hard things are so impossible to write about, and the easy things just come.  but that's obvious, right?

i'm going to write the hard things soon, i really am.

where have you been
and what have you done?

i've been under the ground
reading prayers from this old book i found
under the ground
saving it up
and spending it all
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