Category: Humanity

It may well be that i should be a meme. in entirety. A human, walking meme.

i try to make funny out of everything, but now, all i think about is death, beauty, children, feeling, money, dirt, taxes and now the fafsa, and what it means for the future, or not, or if there is one. Will we ever have a full day snowfall again? and trying to make funny out of all that is played out all over the place, in memes. so maybe i’m trite. is that it?

(and honestly, when i look back at what i think about… is there anything else?have i EVER thought about other things? i mean, i’m sure many folks have better perspectives and less anxiety about taxes, and zero to do with fafsa, but…) and then there is Palestine.

its an enormous shift from joy bubble or ‘look how pretty it all is’, to a soul crushing devastation. deflated and lying on the dirt.

how dare i?

i feel the whiplash of my personality as this personal season of ‘figure it out’ has arrived. I’m so lucky, unbelievably, to have had a tough marriage to a wealthy person, so that now, for every bad memory I still need therapy for, I get a check. It’s not erasing his debt to me, but it does enable this house and a job at a farm.

There’s a lot there though. i love that work, so much. the air, the green, the breathing involved. dirty hands, calloused and rough. i am not a vacationer in the land of blue collars. i’m shy too, my hearing keeps me there, as casual chatter is not really something i can do. Like, imagine, not being certain of the person next to you in line at the grocery store, will you be able to make it out, what they say? It sometimes can be a weight.

But farming? Farming is just good. like, selling books. Its good for the world, unbeknownst to most of the world. And man, is it hard work for little praise and much less money. To have it be something that i will have to leave in order to make more money and more stability for myself and my future, feels very raw to me. Raw because I rub up against the practical and recognize it will be necessary. How long can I hold on? Am I destroying myself? GAAAAAh. ANd what about the everyone else without the profitable divorce? Where will we get our carrots in the future?

Am I a kitty hanging off a shelf? Am I the prancing lady with clever sayings overlaid? What’s my story? Where am I going?

goddamnit.

today i just don’t know.

love you anyways,

kate

I’m dropping services like flies. just ask my landline. gone baby gone. things gone.

lighten up. brighten up. if i could sell all the words I’ve got, i’d do it. let ’em loose.

set a fire, let it burn. but. . .

I’ve got a list going of things not to forget, not to forget. what’s important to remember, forever.

baby feet.

the smell of breastfed baby poo.

the ways my boys try to get in my lap still, rolling over the backs of sofas, sprawling half in and half out of wherever i am.

laughing until i choke with my daughter on one of her last nights sleeping in my bed. I don’t know when it’ll end, I just know its on a countdown.

righteous anger.

the floorboards in the pawtucket house. little hands crawling. children falling asleep against my body.

roxanne, the best beagle. her ears.

each of my many painting phases. that time i made angels of fabric. and quilts.

conscious communicating. working at it. being curious about origins of feeling. uncovering. always trying. remember.

my dad’s hands.

the rings on Kate’s hands.

the joy of turning a phrase.

Love love,

Me.