Here's yet another good poem from the writer's almanac. He - Garrison Keillor - is good about printing the poems that echo what's going on in the world. Some days, I feel like he knows what I'm thinking about for sure.
Winter is coming, and you all know how I feel about that. I haven't been able to fill my propane tank for my heater yet, and so I tell everyone that the unnaturally warm winter/Indian summer that we're having is simply prolonged by the force of my will...
Well, stranger things have happened...

My good friend Mike came and had dinner and watched a movie with me last night, it was good to be with him, and to watch a flick that really meant something to him. It's always like a window into someone's soul/psyche when they share an important film or book or song with you... Mike is my oldest friend here in the Carolinas, and he is tried and true. He's doing well, too, and that makes me happy.
Chris came and crashed last night too, and we all had a good chat. I like it when nerds collide... :)
This morning Chris drove me to work, and the three of us went to Mickey-D's for breakfast. On the way there, Chris said, "I got you something." and he reached into his (phat-ass 70's professor pimp corduroy) jacket pocket and pulled out a vanilla Olivero and a packet of matches in a little cigar-sized zip-loc. Man, am I smitten.

Chris is smitten, too, but I think it's with Mike's beautiful, beautiful car*! :D

Better days, folks. God is in the details.
Here's your poem - a very good representation of my feelings about the coming winter.
Much love,
-sam

The North

The ancients knew the sorrows of exile:
If you weren't hanged, they'd pack you off
To the far ends of the Earth,
To go on grumbling, writing endless petitions
That would never reach the Emperor.

The North always the place of punishment:
Unforgiving cold, rags on your back,
And the company of a few sullen barbarians
At day's end when the wind parts the clouds
And the stars seem to be mocking.

Every few years a garbled message from home.
Memory paying a call in the wee hours:
A mother's face; the company of merry friends
At the long table in the garden;
Their wives baring their throats in the afternoon heat…

"The sages suffered, too, exiled from truth,"
That's what you tell yourself…
Not many are meant to retrace their steps
And behold the splendors of the capital
Even more seductive than when you knew them.

The North always the place of punishment.
Deep snow. Blue-veined trees and bushes
Rising against the pink-colored morning sky…
So that briefly, in that one spell,
Your heartache hushes at the beauty of it.


Poem: "The North," by Charles Simic, from The Book of Gods and Devils (Harcourt, Brace and Company).

*MIke is going to send me a link to a paper that he wrote - AND won a prize for about his "Sweet Melissa" - maybe I can talk him into sending photos, too. I am SURE he has some!

Poem: "Call and Answer," by Robert Bly.

Call and Answer

Tell me why it is we don't lift our voices these days
And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed
The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting?

I say to myself: "Go on, cry. What's the sense
Of being an adult and having no voice? Cry out!
See who will answer! This is Call and Answer!"

We will have to call especially loud to reach
Our angels, who are hard of hearing; they are hiding
In the jugs of silence filled during our wars.

Have we agreed to so many wars that we can't
Escape from silence? If we don't lift our voices, we allow
Others (who are ourselves) to rob the house.

How come we've listened to the great criers-Neruda,
Akhmatova, Thoreau, Frederick Douglas-and now
We're silent as sparrows in the little bushes?

Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.

it's been a RAAAR! day, and i'm not sure why (but only 'cause i haven't had time to really sit down and think about it...), especially considering that it started out so nicely with a veryvery handsome gentleman treating me to breakfast and being so sweet...
sallie thinks i'm allergic to eggplant*. i have been sick with a cold, and i think it's turning to bronchitis. lovely. bluhr. i just want to be 'baby', like when i was a kid and sick, i want to be loved and petted and brought mushroom soup with a straw** or gingerale and sherbet. but mostly love is what i need. the snuggle-up skwooch kind like where it just means "aw" and nothing else. dad was good at that, and so was steve...
stewart is doing the best he can, he's invited me over to watch the Two Towers(!!!) extended version(!!!), yay! and sallie was talking to me like we talk to our dogs. which is nice. she's a good cheerleader.

i found out from rob today that sloane's girlfriend tried to go with him. i feel for her so much, to wake up (27 hours) after trying that and finding your love that way. but she woke up, and that in itself is a miracle. i wish i could talk to her. i am sure that she is having a really hard time, but i hope she realizes that she lived for a reason. who knows why, but she was just not meant to go. i pray that she gets some help, and i pray that she learns to love herself and life, and that she can learn to be all the way alive, to live to live life to the fullest - enough for herself and the memory of sloane.
sad, sad, sweet babies. my heart goes out to her.

last night chris brought a movie that was the most amazing thing i've ever seen on film (and i've seen a lot of amazing film). it was called "Russian Ark" and it is a film about the history of the russian people that was filmed in ONE SHOT and ONE TAKE.
it was incredible! beautiful, lush, amazing, stunning, and a MIRACLE of film-making. DO see it, and be sure to go potty and get a drink before you start it because you will not want to pause it or leave it until it is done. in fact, it seems that it would be a crime to do so.
(rory, if you read this, please write me and tell me what you thought of it. i remember how impressed you were with that one long tracking shot in... was it goodfellas? i thought of you.)

i'm also delighted that i have someone who will bring me rare films like this and then curl up on the couch with me and watch them, and have good discussions afterwards.
what a treat. i am a very lucky girl.

i think i am also a fairly sick girl, so i hope i get some good rest tonight. i've forgotten what all the rest of the week has in store for me, but i hope it's good.
i hope the same for all of you.

oh, before i go. y'all send good thoughts out aunt sue's way. she is still in the hospital and about to undergo the third surgery on her hip. i finally talked to her last night and her spirits were good, but i know she's trying to be a trooper. she has a few complications, but aunt rhonda is looking out for her, so she is in good hands, and her doctors sound like they are doing a good job.
i wish i could go see her for christmas...

if wishes were horses, huh?
much love,
-sam

*ask me in person, or e me, if you reallllllly wanna know.
**gramma cut a giant pixie stick for me to use as a straw so the mushroom bits could get through. that's love. and ingenuity.

well, my fingers are starting to look less like boiled kielbasa (ewwwww!) and more like just severely heat-damaged fingers. this is a good thing. sallie was starting to get pretty grossed out by the whole effect, and they were the source of mine and my beau's first fight... raar!
so what else is news?
i auditioned for a play in asheville and got multiple very choice roles - but i turned them down for several reasons, mainly that my time and $ are so very dear these days and priority-wise, it wasn't prudent. i really want to spent any spare time i have being with my friends, helping with the faire where i can, and working on my art. i was WAY flattered to get cast so nicely, especially since i have NO experience with this kind of theatre. i do hope i get another chance someday.

my doctor has come to some sort of conclusion re: what's wrong with me, but as far as i can see, he's based this diagnosis on nothing more than a complete lack of evi-dence. all hail modern medicine. he seems to have decided on fibromyalgia, and he has prescribed me an antidepressant because fibromyalgia is an "emotional illness".
i told him that he might consider investing in a police riot shield if he felt that he was going to have to be giving that speech to a lot of women who had been in pain and feeling weak and exhausted for a long time.
i told him i'd try it though, because i told my friends and my family and myself that i would go to the doctor and that i would do what i was told. within reason. so he gave me five weeks of samples - that's the prerequisite two weeks to let it "build up in your system" and then three weeks of seeing what it's like. it's not one of the strong ones, and it's a low doseage, so we shall see. if it does what he says it's supposed to, and it doesn't numb out my feelings like the drugs i took when i was dependant on the mississippi mental health system*, then i will give it a shot.
we shall see.

there's other stuff going on, too. good and bad, happy and sad. one of my old friends from hattiesburg committed suicide this weekend. he was a very broken young man. life and his father had seen to it that all his possible defenses were removed. he subsisted by trying to exist in a state of complete drug oblivion. he would take ANY kind of drug, and when nothing else was available, he would huff glade air freshener. needless to say, those moments are my most vivid memories of him, but i have some gentler ones, too. he was a beautiful person, physically, and he had a sweet and erudite soul. in those extremely rare moments that he felt safe enough to let that show, he wrote poems and talked about words the way i love to. he came to my house fairly often, seeking warmth and safety. i am sad that his life was like it was, and as horrible as it seems to say this, i'm glad that he finally found some kind of real peace.
sleep well, sloane. i hope it's maxfield parrish land for you, wherever you are.

now i am off, to warm my house, love my dog, and let someone hold me.
wishing you all such simple pleasures,
-sam


*now THAT'S a scary thought, innit?