Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Feet Feats

Golden Child is doing this now:

original link

I’m truly and literally overjoyed for her about this because, while I don’t have many memories from when I was her age, I do remember being able to do this.

I remember it being the most amazing thing ever. Huge. That I could maneuver those things up to my face, to my mouth, and it was pure joy.

In retrospect, I don’t remember thinking others were better than me because, heyo, they could walk and stuff. That didn’t even compute since they were them, and I was me.

And, heyo, I was bad-ass. I could put my feet in my mouth.

Granted, all this is translated into my current head-voice and vocab. Of course. I didn’t have those specific cognizant baby-head-thoughts back then. But you understand what I’m saying, right?

How, it was awesome that I was accomplishing this heretofore impossible task.

And how it had nothing to do with anyone else and what they were able to do. I’m sure I recognized on some level that we were all different, but there was no distinction of which different was better or worse. There was no such thing.

As I have small, daily freak-outs in front of my computer where I try to talk myself down from trashing all my writing because it isn't up to par with so-and-so's writing, my daughter puts her foot in her mouth and reminds me -- there’s still no such thing. 

Makes me think fondly of this: 

How are your daily freak-outs and feats coming?

Tuesday, January 21, 2014


So have you heard of the seven basic plots?

I’m trying to figure out if I buy into the notion.
See, there’s the thing with color and what we as humans can perceive in the visible spectrum. R-O-Y-G-B-I-V. Wavelengths vary greatly outside this range – from the size of the universe to somewhere in the vicinity of the Planck length (as far as we know, but really, what do we know?) – and yet we can only see these certain ones with the naked eye, right? 

original link
Is it the same with the human experience? While the possible hues of our histories, life events, and realities may seem limitless, are we so constricted by the confines of our language and perception that we can’t move away from:

  • Overcoming the Monster
  • Rags to Riches
  • The Quest
  • Voyage and Return
  • Comedy
  • Tragedy
  • Rebirth 

I can't seem to get my head out of this thinking spot, lately.

Also, is it just complete coincidence that both the basic colors and basic plots come in seven?

What are your thoughts about all this?

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Burning Again

It's been long enough, I think, since I’ve been consistent on here. I'd really like to be consistent in more things. For example:
  •  Getting up in the mornings to read and stretch and move before the Goobers get up.
  • Looking at the stars, especially when the moon is huge and round to hang out with too.
  • Vacuuming.
Just to mention a few.

Also, to write here every Tuesday like I did before this. So I offer you some lovelies to get things burning again:

Same Thing

I laughed because I didn't know what else to do.
Really I was squirming inside my skin.
Kicking and screaming inside my stretchy skin.
He touched my skin with strange hands,
and he kissed my skin with strange lips.

A stranger to me --
I had never seen him before.

A stranger to him --
he didn't ask who I was, who I am,
just assumed he'd make me feel full?

I wish he wouldn't have touched me.
I wish he wouldn't have kissed me.
I wish he wouldn't have assumed anything.
No. I wish I wouldn't have laughed.

Two women stood witness.
Their eyes --
I wish I could have disapeared into their round.
Now when women laugh, I try to really listen.
If they need them,
I try to offer my eyes.
Hollow places where they can be swallowed,
just for the moment, if they so wish it.

Sometimes, when people make that face,
I can't tell if they are laughing or crying.
Sometimes, maybe it's the same thing.


The Game

I know what you want me to say,
so I'll say it,
because I don't want to see you again.

I know what you don't want me to say,
so I won't,
because I don't want to see you again.

I know the game.

I know the face you want me to wear.

You put your feet up on the chair.
In China that gesture is offensive.
I wear Chinese symbols for a reason.

But I'm in debt to you,
so it doesn't matter what I want you to do,
and it doesn't matter what I wear for me.

I will not wear my own face in front of you.

You don't want me to.

I know your game,
and I play it,
because I never want to see you again.


 Hide and Seek

Pearls yearn.
We're born of sperm.
We sit and squirm.
What questions are okay to ask?
To think, and then say out loud?
For you I burn.

But that's not a question.
Is it?
What lays inside,
yearning to come out?
Where do we look --
awkward --
when those questions come out?

You wrap your shells around me
and I am safe on your soft tongue.
From them I come.
For you I hum.
And when I'm ready,
I will be said out loud.

Ready or not,
I'm going to open my eyes.

original here

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