Laurel tagged me for a meme, though I confess
to not knowing exactly what that word means.

I am supposed to reveal eight things about myself.

Hell, I reveal much about me here on a regular
basis, but I found it hard to come up with eight
things. I will find it equally as hard to realize
another eight I didn't think about listing.

*sigh*



*



Reveal eight things about yourself

It used to be that my life was an open book,
as the old saying goes. Now, I find it’s best to listen to others
and leave me out of the equation as much as possible.

I wanted to be a dancer/choreographer. A choreographer friend
of my mom’s taught my sister, two friends and me a dance routine
for the school talent show when I was in the 7th grade. We chose
the Jet Song from West Side Story, and I fell in love with dance
and orchestrating dance movements to music.

Some nights (many lately), I go to bed without washing my face
or brushing my teeth or even taking my clothes off. It’s like I am
always ready to jump outta the bed and run if need be.

I had the chance to meet the man once (Dylan, of course), but as
the crowd surged forward and pushed me into the front of the stage,
I got so panicky I made my way over to the wall. The girl I had
been with through the whole concert who told me she had been with Dylan
in the 70s in Louisville after a show told me to stay with her
and I'd meet him. She said she had "been with him" kind of been with him--
(or so she said). She assured me if I stayed with her, I would meet
The Man. I watched from the wall as Dylan pointed out three women
(including the woman I was with through the whole show until my panicky
episode) and his stage crew took the women by the hand and took them backstage.

I like to dance alone in my dining room or kitchen. I play The Doors, Zeppelin,
Sinatra, Dylan, Hole, L7, Coltrane, Miles Davis, Lucinda Williams and others
and I just dance without reservation.

I was loving on my puppy, Molly, and damn if she didn’t tongue kiss me!

I hate the heat. I’ll take winter any old day. I can put on layers to be warmer
but not much I can do to be cooler.

I live a life largely filled with fear. I work on overcoming the fears, but they
work on overcoming me.

Rather low key day

today. Son (youngest) called at 5:45this a.m. Had spent
the night with a friend and was feeling bad.
He still feels bad--throat and headache.

I worry about these kids. I guess my worries
are a bit trivial in light of many other worries
parents have, but I asked if he had taken a drink
of someone's drink (thinking mono). My daughter
contracted mono at age 19 or 20 and the Epstein
Barr virus stayed in her system and she has been
fighting CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) since
that time. She is much improved. She credits
much of that to a gluten-free diet.

She is 26 today. I sent her a card and said
I didn't remember much about being 26,
but I do, as I found out as I was writing her
a note in the card.

The summer before I turned 26, we went to L.A.
for the first time. Griffith Observatory, Hollywood
Wax Museum, Hollywood Bowl (the L.A. philharmonic
was doing a salute to Wagner--the Olympics were
taking place), Graumann's Chinese Theatre, Knott's
Berry Farm, Disney, etc. etc.

We went to Lancaster to visit my grandmother.
I knew if I was ever going to see her again, I would
have to go, and I wanted to, but my panic disorder
was so bad and my fear of flying so extreme that I didn't
know how I was going to do it, but, hello Amtrak!

We took the train from St. Louis to L.A. Long trip
but one filled with many exciting (and terrifying
moments--like when the power went out
and we were in the middle of a mountain tunnel
between CO and NM). But, but--I made it,
and I was so happy to see my grandmother.

*

All of this makes me think of the trip my daughter
and I just took to Naples in late May. She wanted
to take a boat to the Keys, or just drive there.

I hate!!! bridges, so I couldn't bear the thought
of driving over all that water, and I don't like
to be out on boats, so that was out. Of course,
there was a daily flight there as well, but with
my fear of flying, that was not an option.

So,we got home, and I thought, and I still think--
why?
Why do I have to live my life in this fear?
Why is everything I do so defined by these tangible
things?

*

And I wish I was well and whole and could seize every
opportunity for fun and new and being alive.

Cat Power - Living Proof

I like Cat Power's m usic a great deal. My daughter is the one jumping over the hurdle.

I need a new bra.

When I was young, my mother and her friends
were burning their bras--that was their rite
of passage. They were in their twenties, breasts
still firm and nipples erect, even after birthing
numerous children. I have birthed my own
and mothered more, and I say it's time
for a new bra, one with underwire that stays
in the seams, one with useful straps, one I can
toss in the dryer and still wear the next day.
Utiliatarian--that's me. Sexy, once. Pretty, maybe.

I gotta go. The new bra story must wait.
House full. Doggie needs walk. Should eat.
Will eat. Sister's a songwriter. Baby great-nephew
will be one year old this Sat. Friend of mine lost her daughter
to cancer (doesn't really feel right to put that in here
but I am thinking about the family).

Bras and the need of such and the burning--
well, the burning never ends.

I think


it went something like this:

I don't feel like I'm runnin' my life, Doo.
I feel like my life's a runnin' me.

Something like that. Coal Miner's Daughter.

*

I completely and utterly and regretfully feel the same way.

*

Am applying for a position at the community college.
Called a friend from the writer's group I used to attend.
She has her MFA and works (I thought) in the program in which
I intend to apply. Turns out she's applying for the same
position. Yikes! Made for an interesting conversation.

*

Watched Bobby last night and Last King of Scotland
last weekend at Dawn's. Bobby was a better film.
Not enough info about Idi Amin in LKOS, and there
was just enough about Bobby to make it an interesting
take on things. Couldn't help but think about myself
in 1968--almost 10--not worldly by any means
nor politically savvy, but I had a father in Nam,
so I was quite keenly aware of what was happening.

*

Goodnight room.
Goodnight moon.

What I know

I know today was hot, but hotter
days have covered my body
like a shroud in billowy accolades.

I know death is true and life
uncertain. A coral bell succumbed;
a petunia endured. And the yucca,

ever indifferent, stems done
with it all, still found room
to cascade her lovely dying

white across a range of green.
I know I have not heard
your voice in some time, its

rise and fall, its unmistakable
cadence not capable of reaching
an audience now. I know I miss

you, most acutely today, with summer
flinging herself full-fledged and bold,
daring the bravest to come out and play.

On days, such as this, when I hide
behind windows with no blinds
and beneath a comfortless comforter—

I know you are gone.