for Jamie’s menagerie
GPOYW looking out, looking in
as I type, looking up, mister mister suddenly appears. he’s fallen out of bed
his face contorted. he can’t find the words, I follow him to the bedroom. the words come. he tells me.
I fell out of bed
other others falling to pieces falling to bits
dreams of bodies, bodies’ marks and leavings. swollen. old people apartments, dust, dusk, dark. muted lamp light.
his face distorted, inflated like a soccer ball.
I phone sarahinmi we neither of us know why; she’s just phoned me, she says
and repairing a house or a trailer before or after a storm
more or less the trifecta of all the fucked up things that our bodies do and the world does and the control we have over it. exactly none.
our reward is the aggressive chorus of construction machine and voice screech and scream
more lost bits and fragments
help me god I can’t swim
vexed by an overheard conversation; overheard because those conversing spoke loudly. said things that offend. I don’t want to judge conversations that aren’t mine, but then, please loud people. lower your voices, close your doors, do some thinking before you speak.
suddenly very very tired. couch o’clock would not come amiss just this minute. nor would an uninterrupted night’s sleep be unwelcome.
the teaching thing, the mornings. small hope in possibilities.
the earth week plant. week what is it now?
if I think any further past the day or two or next week, nothing useful will happen. one unanticipated benefit of my inability to face certain certainties is in living in the nether world of it could change, we’ve never not gotten there yet and we’ll sort it. somehow. and the ever popular knowledge that the sun will come out tomorrow. until it doesn’t.
and the ever more popular credo: we jump the bridge as we cross it.
meanwhile: gratitude for the network of care on the screen, on the telephone lines, in the day or the other day and the people who come to us, too.
and you lot, for your ear. your time.
today and three more days
I love this. learning
things I wish I’d known. knowing now and glad for knowing anew all there still is to do and know and try to be
and back. last week of classes. bittersweet about missing so many days. trying to be more mindful of what is and less attentive to what is missed, lost.
speech therapy done for the day
lasagna from Barbara
visit and time from Dana. and cucumbers
Heide tomorrow and Tony
we’re lucky, some. mostly. if you don’t take the whole stroke thing too much into account
time is not what I thought was
birdsong and the persistent drone of a fundamentalist mosquito
we’ve been back a week and a day and a morning. seems a longer stretch of time. or times: w and t with us til they have to leave. grab bars installed. therapy appointments, PT, OT, speech. visits and other visits. and days with only each other. meals macgyvered, friends in so I can go to work. phone calls. email. people asking questions they should know not to ask.
laughing. not laughing.
relentless unreeling of day to evening to night and again