TIME TO TRAVEL
i remember his mouth
pushing air across the contour
of his lips, except no sound was
coming out as everything else
gave in. i remember the cold
sitting up in the hospital bed
and how that giant white-rolled
paper felt, the kind they'd let
you draw on as a kid. and if i had
some crayons i might graffiti it. a nice
house, some trees, the sun wearing
sunglasses...how i envy him. i wish
someone could have drawn a way
to protect me from myself. so many
words have no meaning. they don't
stand up or carry weight but hide rather
in a sentence. they need their friends
for relevance. though some words
stand alone. like a naked man
on the street, they stick out. and
what an awful face it takes to pronounce
the letter "C". squinting your eyes almost growling
while showing half your teeth. and
the tongue disappearing before it starts
flirting with the "N's" sound, humble
not quiet it lives towards
the roof of the mouth. and "R"
is simply all throat with a quick in and out
and your left staring at an ansel adam's
wondering why in god's name haven't you
been to that place yet?
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
THE NEON
the neon above my head
flickers in its unnatural rhythm: millerlite.
millerlite. millerlite. miller. they don't
even serve it here anymore but hangs
still. like an old family portrait with
the soft blue background, sweater vests, and sunday bests. each face adorned
with the most perfect smile one could muster
at a Kmart after church. long since
divorced parents hands
resting on their children's shoulders who might be
old enough to drink here by now. and billy
who once loved baseball is leather clad
in the corner. brandishing nose rings, and
skull tattoos, a chain clinging to his wallet.
maybe that's julia, the oldest, leaning over
to ignite on a match held calmly by a man
who won't respect her in the morning.
and that incessant buzzing hums on as
a reminder. what's here today will
be gone tomorrow. that history might
as well be hanging from the walls
of every dive bar in america. a shrine
to things never working out as planned.
and with every sip the buzz gets louder.
drinking to forget in the first place.
the neon above my head
flickers in its unnatural rhythm: millerlite.
millerlite. millerlite. miller. they don't
even serve it here anymore but hangs
still. like an old family portrait with
the soft blue background, sweater vests, and sunday bests. each face adorned
with the most perfect smile one could muster
at a Kmart after church. long since
divorced parents hands
resting on their children's shoulders who might be
old enough to drink here by now. and billy
who once loved baseball is leather clad
in the corner. brandishing nose rings, and
skull tattoos, a chain clinging to his wallet.
maybe that's julia, the oldest, leaning over
to ignite on a match held calmly by a man
who won't respect her in the morning.
and that incessant buzzing hums on as
a reminder. what's here today will
be gone tomorrow. that history might
as well be hanging from the walls
of every dive bar in america. a shrine
to things never working out as planned.
and with every sip the buzz gets louder.
drinking to forget in the first place.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
I'm not sure what you each need around grandpa but it looks like he's getting ready to finish this lifetime fairly soon. He'll be entering the hospice facility today and their job will be to keep him comfortable...the hospice nurse let me know that she's not certain how much longer he'll hang on and has encouraged me to get down there fairly soon. She'll be calling again later today with an update.
I'd love you all to be there but understand that might not be possible. I'll pay for you tickets etc if you decide to come down. Clearly the decision is yours and I respect whatever decision you make. Let me know what you think ASAP - preferably this evening. I know Matt's at Keewaydin so I will call him there.
Love to you all...and know that Grandpa loved you each for the incredible individuals you each are!
Hugs - MOM
In the end what matters most is:
How well have you lived;
How well have you loved;
How well have you learned to let go?
Saturday, August 11, 2007
OPEN INVITATION (NEED ALL READERS HELP)
...i'm getting ready to send out some poems for publication this fall and need all the help that i can get. if you tend to read my blog once and a while and have some spare time on your hands, i'd love to hear which poems are your favorites. i'm looking for around 10 total but am having one hell of a hard time deciding which one's are the best. sometimes you're too close to your writing to actually be able to choose your favorites, or choose them wisely rather. if any of you out there in blog land want to go through my archives and pick your 10 favorite poems in ranking order (1 being your favorite and 10 being your least favorite) it would not only mean a whole lot to me, but it would also be doing me a huge favor. and who knows, maybe with all your help i'll be able to get a few more publications under my belt. just type them up and send them as a comment to this post. if you'd like to tell me who you are that's cool, if you'd rather not mention your name, that's okay too. it'd still be a huge help either way. look at it as a way to give back to the person whose given you countless minutes of mediocre reading material while you're at work/at home/prolonging your homework/getting home drunk from the bar (you know who you are)/ or just stalking me in the only way you know how. thanks again....
-m-a-t-t-h-e-w-j-o-r-d-a-n-m-a-r-r-o-
...i'm getting ready to send out some poems for publication this fall and need all the help that i can get. if you tend to read my blog once and a while and have some spare time on your hands, i'd love to hear which poems are your favorites. i'm looking for around 10 total but am having one hell of a hard time deciding which one's are the best. sometimes you're too close to your writing to actually be able to choose your favorites, or choose them wisely rather. if any of you out there in blog land want to go through my archives and pick your 10 favorite poems in ranking order (1 being your favorite and 10 being your least favorite) it would not only mean a whole lot to me, but it would also be doing me a huge favor. and who knows, maybe with all your help i'll be able to get a few more publications under my belt. just type them up and send them as a comment to this post. if you'd like to tell me who you are that's cool, if you'd rather not mention your name, that's okay too. it'd still be a huge help either way. look at it as a way to give back to the person whose given you countless minutes of mediocre reading material while you're at work/at home/prolonging your homework/getting home drunk from the bar (you know who you are)/ or just stalking me in the only way you know how. thanks again....
-m-a-t-t-h-e-w-j-o-r-d-a-n-m-a-r-r-o-
Thursday, August 02, 2007
CARVE MYSELF A DREAM
some nights i lie awake
and convince myself i'm fine.
that the breeze through
the metal screen is really comfort
calling me for sleep.
though knowing one thing
and pretending another
becomes a cut so fine and deep
it goes unnoticed
until infection.
maybe it's pride
that screams intelligence
is the only help we need.
maybe fooling the mind
enough times can actually
change its make up...to
renegotiate the truth.
but something is telling me
that i'm so very wrong.
that time has never really healed a wound,
just lent itself to getting used to.
the fact is, we're all of us
bleeding from somewhere ripe
desperately trying not to look down.
in the tiny corner of my room
the curtains swell
like giant lungs
then exhale across the bureau,
the book left open
next to the bed stand
has started reading
with a pair unseen hands,
the slightest breeze
which can turn a page stops,
then looks
for a place to keep going.
the night draws out;
a serrated edge on a blade
and i can't remember the last time
i'd met myself
and had something interesting to say.
in the soft quiet of my sheets,
i do the very first thing
that comes to mind, turning
my head ever so slightly,
closing my eyes,
to carve myself a dream.
some nights i lie awake
and convince myself i'm fine.
that the breeze through
the metal screen is really comfort
calling me for sleep.
though knowing one thing
and pretending another
becomes a cut so fine and deep
it goes unnoticed
until infection.
maybe it's pride
that screams intelligence
is the only help we need.
maybe fooling the mind
enough times can actually
change its make up...to
renegotiate the truth.
but something is telling me
that i'm so very wrong.
that time has never really healed a wound,
just lent itself to getting used to.
the fact is, we're all of us
bleeding from somewhere ripe
desperately trying not to look down.
in the tiny corner of my room
the curtains swell
like giant lungs
then exhale across the bureau,
the book left open
next to the bed stand
has started reading
with a pair unseen hands,
the slightest breeze
which can turn a page stops,
then looks
for a place to keep going.
the night draws out;
a serrated edge on a blade
and i can't remember the last time
i'd met myself
and had something interesting to say.
in the soft quiet of my sheets,
i do the very first thing
that comes to mind, turning
my head ever so slightly,
closing my eyes,
to carve myself a dream.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
THE FRAMING
maybe it's because we learn
each way save forward?
sideways in our convictions,
experiencing life
with what's peripheral.
it's not that hindsight
has great vision, but rather
that the past stands still
until bumped into again.
there's a winding path
through gentle woods
and wisdom is a river there
if fall asleep next to.
dreaming of stones
shaped by time, i hold
ever close to me.
my heart is so very similar
it astounds me.
made of all
that's passed over it,
blood.
water.
flesh.
love.
the ideas of something
better hinting at, and then
leaving nothing behind
but shape.
carving out the negative space,
around the man
i'm soon to be.
maybe it's because we learn
each way save forward?
sideways in our convictions,
experiencing life
with what's peripheral.
it's not that hindsight
has great vision, but rather
that the past stands still
until bumped into again.
there's a winding path
through gentle woods
and wisdom is a river there
if fall asleep next to.
dreaming of stones
shaped by time, i hold
ever close to me.
my heart is so very similar
it astounds me.
made of all
that's passed over it,
blood.
water.
flesh.
love.
the ideas of something
better hinting at, and then
leaving nothing behind
but shape.
carving out the negative space,
around the man
i'm soon to be.
Friday, July 27, 2007
FEELING "YOUNG"
it's the smallest
of gestures that keep me interested,
the tiny things for which i look up.
a blue dress passing my eye, a smile
owning a room, a single ring
out of a bracelet
composed of many falling, too
cheap to clasp back on.
so you fashion it for me
into my very favorite of clichés.
the last of which who still
stands for something:
the shape of a heart.
bringing flirtations
to a recognizable halt, or enough
at least, to re-examine.
another level of how cute we are.
perhaps a small step forward?
i keep wanting to go back, and
ask you out again.
after a thousand tiny dates
of besides the point, under
the unfortunate pretense of simply
being friends.
it took away the edge, leaving assumption
and nervousness behind.
all things real
replaced pretend, so that
we might know each other
slowly.
a single sarcastic comment
at a time, one tiny truth
to hide behind, a field
who mumbles softly
of wild flowers. knowing
of it's beauty, yet afraid
of what it could possibly mean.
i enjoying being here with you, yet
intend to something about it.
it's the smallest
of gestures that keep me interested,
the tiny things for which i look up.
a blue dress passing my eye, a smile
owning a room, a single ring
out of a bracelet
composed of many falling, too
cheap to clasp back on.
so you fashion it for me
into my very favorite of clichés.
the last of which who still
stands for something:
the shape of a heart.
bringing flirtations
to a recognizable halt, or enough
at least, to re-examine.
another level of how cute we are.
perhaps a small step forward?
i keep wanting to go back, and
ask you out again.
after a thousand tiny dates
of besides the point, under
the unfortunate pretense of simply
being friends.
it took away the edge, leaving assumption
and nervousness behind.
all things real
replaced pretend, so that
we might know each other
slowly.
a single sarcastic comment
at a time, one tiny truth
to hide behind, a field
who mumbles softly
of wild flowers. knowing
of it's beauty, yet afraid
of what it could possibly mean.
i enjoying being here with you, yet
intend to something about it.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
LATE JULY
it's mid-afternoon
before the beaten down porch
catches enough of a breeze
to warrant company.
the honey locust clamor
from the heat and july
didn't take the time to be noticed.
i try suggesting a better spot
for the spider interested in real estate.
building condos in the only corner
flies don't vacation to, but the
translation gets lost between
the ashtray and sounds of children playing.
so the enjoyment of my july
is lemonade, the scent
of hibiscus groves from next door, and
the hope i'll fall in love
with something more than these
kinds of moments.
too few and far between
for anything less
than a brief affair.
a small, and fleeting taste
of each other's
eccentricities, like
chocolate flowers
on the finest of pastries,
melting full bloom in ones mouth,
as sweet as the finest summer day...
then gone.
it's mid-afternoon
before the beaten down porch
catches enough of a breeze
to warrant company.
the honey locust clamor
from the heat and july
didn't take the time to be noticed.
i try suggesting a better spot
for the spider interested in real estate.
building condos in the only corner
flies don't vacation to, but the
translation gets lost between
the ashtray and sounds of children playing.
so the enjoyment of my july
is lemonade, the scent
of hibiscus groves from next door, and
the hope i'll fall in love
with something more than these
kinds of moments.
too few and far between
for anything less
than a brief affair.
a small, and fleeting taste
of each other's
eccentricities, like
chocolate flowers
on the finest of pastries,
melting full bloom in ones mouth,
as sweet as the finest summer day...
then gone.
Monday, July 23, 2007
so few things get under my skin. though somethings surly do. using a plant as an ashtray. or putting the milk away, without leaving enough left over for cereal. not all these things in a bad way: one of the most notable would have to be how you always combined your "shrugs with a smile," the indian name i would secretly give you if i had the time to do so. and sense you refused to apologize for a single one of your foibles, i fell in love with them one by one. but not in a comfortable way. but rather like a bandaide being pulled off so slowly that the wound was healed by the time it got there. you always wore your downfalls like a dress i'd take you to dinner in, but which you refused to wear out. i long for the day when i might see it again...commenting on how beautiful you look.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
PERIPHERALS
i could understand you know,
if you told me.
how you can
try and love
a family man,
without the time to make one of your own.
the world is always going on without us,
traveling, buying cars, having children, as
proof that they exist.
you can always tell when
someone cares for you, if
they neglect to mention
caring for someone else.
i could understand you know,
if you told me.
how you can
try and love
a family man,
without the time to make one of your own.
the world is always going on without us,
traveling, buying cars, having children, as
proof that they exist.
you can always tell when
someone cares for you, if
they neglect to mention
caring for someone else.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
TOURIST
i'm a tourist everywhere i go.
even at home
i'm always looking up.
the sky won't wait
for approval
turning from blue
to a pumpkin colored warmth
on a dime better spent
on a head tilting up
to smile.
i spent an entire season
on a mountain side,
getting to know
each tree by name,
flower by scent,
rock by shape.
i remember how it changed
the texture of my personality,
smoothing the edges
of who i was
until all confusion had left.
so with eyes closed
and arms outstretched
i too, was part of the forest's canopy.
casting shadows on unknowingness
shedding light on things to come.
i'm a tourist everywhere i go.
even at home
i'm always looking up.
the sky won't wait
for approval
turning from blue
to a pumpkin colored warmth
on a dime better spent
on a head tilting up
to smile.
i spent an entire season
on a mountain side,
getting to know
each tree by name,
flower by scent,
rock by shape.
i remember how it changed
the texture of my personality,
smoothing the edges
of who i was
until all confusion had left.
so with eyes closed
and arms outstretched
i too, was part of the forest's canopy.
casting shadows on unknowingness
shedding light on things to come.
Friday, July 13, 2007
WALK
stop the change
to darken streetlights up,
negotiate only once
with each type of beauty.
the air turns thick and sap like up,
with a backwards view of consumption.
a smile gets stifled in the giving...
the process of a sidewalk
mumbling softly to a shoe.
everywhere i've been gets reminded
heads turn swift on dimes
violently dropping
a sycamore from realizing
it's been paid
minimum wage. and i'm
so very sick of trying
i fail upwards,
a new promotion...with each one of my mistakes.
stop the change
to darken streetlights up,
negotiate only once
with each type of beauty.
the air turns thick and sap like up,
with a backwards view of consumption.
a smile gets stifled in the giving...
the process of a sidewalk
mumbling softly to a shoe.
everywhere i've been gets reminded
heads turn swift on dimes
violently dropping
a sycamore from realizing
it's been paid
minimum wage. and i'm
so very sick of trying
i fail upwards,
a new promotion...with each one of my mistakes.
WHOA-ES-ME
...i guess a blog is as good of a place as any to do some simple bitching and whining. and although it feels shallow and wrong to complain considering my life, i suppose everyone needs a good vent from time to time. just as long as you readers understand i have no right doing it, being brought up right (for the most part), with an amazing family and a silver spoon so far away from my ass i had to shove it up there out of curiosity more than anything...and even then, in all honesty, i had to borrow a silver one from a friends house. with that disclaimer being said, let the bitch-ass-pouting begin...you spill the milk and i'll start the crying.
i've been having trouble as late trying to balance myself...or my thoughts for that matter. it's always been a struggle with me and is something i've grown to deal with rather than pretending it might be something that even could be fixed or cured all together. the way in which my mind works is part of who i am and i have certainly come to terms with that fact. but it's also a condition that i wouldn't wish on a snake. it's hard to describe...
my brain works fast. and when i say fast, i mean almost stupid fast. it's truly maddening at times. it won't shut up...at home, on the street, while i'm working, reading a book, listening to music, watching a movie, talking to a friend, playing the jukebox (sorry laura). IT JUST WON'T STOP. it's almost as if it doesn't belong to me to begin with...as if i could take it out and set it on the table and still be a normal person with regular thoughts and complete cognitive function. i guess i should clarify "regular thoughts" so that i don't sound like a mad man. it's not that i have irregular thoughts, or that they're dark and disturbed (excluding, of course, those blog entries which are nothing but "dark and disturbed"...they were suppose to be funny) it's just that all these things are going by at the same time at unimaginable speeds. and lately it's been getting worse...for example: when i go to talk someone new i either come across as a lobotomized freak barley able to form a complete sentence, or some mensa ridden prick on a soapbox talking down to everyone. neither one is actually me. working at the bar seems to help...trading in real conversations for quick flirtatious comments, but even then, the entire time i'm speaking consists of a completely separate and often times more clever response that would fly over the persons head if verbalized for real.
i've also recently noticed it in my poetry as well. those two extreme sides tugging at the middle. either my writing begins to rhyme (something i've never done before) or the free verse is so incredibly free it turns into a cryptic prose that sounds amazing but comes from a place so close to me...only i know what i'm talking about. here's an example.
stop the change
to darken streetlights up,
negotiate only once
with each type of beauty.
the air turns thick and sap like up,
with a backwards view of consumption.
a smile gets stifled in the giving...
the process of a sidewalk
mumbling softly to a shoe.
everywhere i've been gets reminded
heads turn swift on dimes
violently dropping
a sycamore from realizing
it's been paid
minimum wage. and i'm
so very sick of trying
i fail upwards,
a new promotion...with each one of my mistakes.
sounds great doesn't it? could you tell what the fuck i was talking about? didn't think so. anyway, i'm sure i'll figure it all out...self medicate in the garden, hide myself behind a pen or a tiny canvas. i'll find the balance the way i always do...but in the mean time...please forgive me for acting weird, talking fast or not at all. give me a hug when you see me next and i'm sure i'll be okay.
...i guess a blog is as good of a place as any to do some simple bitching and whining. and although it feels shallow and wrong to complain considering my life, i suppose everyone needs a good vent from time to time. just as long as you readers understand i have no right doing it, being brought up right (for the most part), with an amazing family and a silver spoon so far away from my ass i had to shove it up there out of curiosity more than anything...and even then, in all honesty, i had to borrow a silver one from a friends house. with that disclaimer being said, let the bitch-ass-pouting begin...you spill the milk and i'll start the crying.
i've been having trouble as late trying to balance myself...or my thoughts for that matter. it's always been a struggle with me and is something i've grown to deal with rather than pretending it might be something that even could be fixed or cured all together. the way in which my mind works is part of who i am and i have certainly come to terms with that fact. but it's also a condition that i wouldn't wish on a snake. it's hard to describe...
my brain works fast. and when i say fast, i mean almost stupid fast. it's truly maddening at times. it won't shut up...at home, on the street, while i'm working, reading a book, listening to music, watching a movie, talking to a friend, playing the jukebox (sorry laura). IT JUST WON'T STOP. it's almost as if it doesn't belong to me to begin with...as if i could take it out and set it on the table and still be a normal person with regular thoughts and complete cognitive function. i guess i should clarify "regular thoughts" so that i don't sound like a mad man. it's not that i have irregular thoughts, or that they're dark and disturbed (excluding, of course, those blog entries which are nothing but "dark and disturbed"...they were suppose to be funny) it's just that all these things are going by at the same time at unimaginable speeds. and lately it's been getting worse...for example: when i go to talk someone new i either come across as a lobotomized freak barley able to form a complete sentence, or some mensa ridden prick on a soapbox talking down to everyone. neither one is actually me. working at the bar seems to help...trading in real conversations for quick flirtatious comments, but even then, the entire time i'm speaking consists of a completely separate and often times more clever response that would fly over the persons head if verbalized for real.
i've also recently noticed it in my poetry as well. those two extreme sides tugging at the middle. either my writing begins to rhyme (something i've never done before) or the free verse is so incredibly free it turns into a cryptic prose that sounds amazing but comes from a place so close to me...only i know what i'm talking about. here's an example.
stop the change
to darken streetlights up,
negotiate only once
with each type of beauty.
the air turns thick and sap like up,
with a backwards view of consumption.
a smile gets stifled in the giving...
the process of a sidewalk
mumbling softly to a shoe.
everywhere i've been gets reminded
heads turn swift on dimes
violently dropping
a sycamore from realizing
it's been paid
minimum wage. and i'm
so very sick of trying
i fail upwards,
a new promotion...with each one of my mistakes.
sounds great doesn't it? could you tell what the fuck i was talking about? didn't think so. anyway, i'm sure i'll figure it all out...self medicate in the garden, hide myself behind a pen or a tiny canvas. i'll find the balance the way i always do...but in the mean time...please forgive me for acting weird, talking fast or not at all. give me a hug when you see me next and i'm sure i'll be okay.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
PETER PAN
...so i was watching the disney version of peter pan last night...the animated one...you know, 'cause i love watching disney movies and i don't have any friends. and i was feeling kind of down. i'm sure you've all had the feeling before from time to time, you just want to go out and collect a bunch of kittens to make you feel better. and then do something nice for them like building them a big wooden box you pant pink for them to play in out in the yard. and smile at there cuteness for a little while. and then you feel the need to put a 2-foot mettle bar right smack in of the middle of the box covered with milk and honey for the kitties to lick. and if you're like me, and feeling really motivated you step about 50 feet away, and play horseshoes until the meowing stops. anywho, it was that kind of mood. so there i was, alone in my bedroom, watching peter pan, drinking milk and i decide that i won't clap for tinker bell this time...you know...just to test it. i don't mean to burst anyone's bubble...but that bitch got up anyway. let me tell you...i was livid. and disney is going to get a pretty nasty letter from yours truly and a nice video of me playing horseshoes with the kitties. tah-tah for now....love matt.
...so i was watching the disney version of peter pan last night...the animated one...you know, 'cause i love watching disney movies and i don't have any friends. and i was feeling kind of down. i'm sure you've all had the feeling before from time to time, you just want to go out and collect a bunch of kittens to make you feel better. and then do something nice for them like building them a big wooden box you pant pink for them to play in out in the yard. and smile at there cuteness for a little while. and then you feel the need to put a 2-foot mettle bar right smack in of the middle of the box covered with milk and honey for the kitties to lick. and if you're like me, and feeling really motivated you step about 50 feet away, and play horseshoes until the meowing stops. anywho, it was that kind of mood. so there i was, alone in my bedroom, watching peter pan, drinking milk and i decide that i won't clap for tinker bell this time...you know...just to test it. i don't mean to burst anyone's bubble...but that bitch got up anyway. let me tell you...i was livid. and disney is going to get a pretty nasty letter from yours truly and a nice video of me playing horseshoes with the kitties. tah-tah for now....love matt.
Friday, July 06, 2007
here's a song i wrote...which isn't really special except for the fact that i've never written a full song before. bits here, pieces there...but never a full song with lyrics and everything. sorry that you can't hear it...but here are the words at least. it's called:
THE BLONDE/BRUNETTE
this ones for the blonde/brunette
i can't soon forget
the way the salt came off her skin
tastes just like the ocean
so many reasons i should leave
this towns no good for me
only one reason that i stay
it happens to be her name
and god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name
i remember when i first met
my favorite blonde/brunette
i couldn't help but stair
said i liked your hair
we'd eat lunch once a week
at my work we'd meet
tasting sushi on your lips
everytime we'd kiss
and god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name.
when love rains down
you hope it won't let up,
you hold out your heart like a paper cup.
god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name.
this one's for the blonde/brunette
i can't soon forget
the way the salt came off her skin
taste just like the ocean
so many reasons i should leave
this town's no good for me
only one reason that i stay
it happens to be her name.
and god i love your name.
THE BLONDE/BRUNETTE
this ones for the blonde/brunette
i can't soon forget
the way the salt came off her skin
tastes just like the ocean
so many reasons i should leave
this towns no good for me
only one reason that i stay
it happens to be her name
and god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name
i remember when i first met
my favorite blonde/brunette
i couldn't help but stair
said i liked your hair
we'd eat lunch once a week
at my work we'd meet
tasting sushi on your lips
everytime we'd kiss
and god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name.
when love rains down
you hope it won't let up,
you hold out your heart like a paper cup.
god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name.
this one's for the blonde/brunette
i can't soon forget
the way the salt came off her skin
taste just like the ocean
so many reasons i should leave
this town's no good for me
only one reason that i stay
it happens to be her name.
and god i love your name.
FOR QUITE SOON I'LL BE GONE
take my heart
to the white river,
past otter creek
down the neshobie.
as my soul may breathe
through all save one, exhailing
the space for
conifer trees.
and what will become
of those rocks of mine
i've been shaping
smooth to set free?
take my heart to the white river
past otter creek, down
the neshobie.
let the places i've been
become all that i'm not
so all i have loved will be,
then take my heart
to the white river
past otter creek, to the
neshobie.
take my heart
to the white river,
past otter creek
down the neshobie.
as my soul may breathe
through all save one, exhailing
the space for
conifer trees.
and what will become
of those rocks of mine
i've been shaping
smooth to set free?
take my heart to the white river
past otter creek, down
the neshobie.
let the places i've been
become all that i'm not
so all i have loved will be,
then take my heart
to the white river
past otter creek, to the
neshobie.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
SUPER POWERS
...one thing to always try to avoid on a date is the conversation in which you have to hypothetically pick super powers. now i know what you're thinking, you're thinking "but matt, i've never been on a date in which i didn't discuss the aspects of hypothetical super powers. it's such a great ice breaker and i'm a giant nerd." i know you idiots, but i'm even a more big eristic nerd and more awkward than any of you will ever be. i'm just trying to tell you the way it is. this seemingly obvious conversation which always comes up on all of my dates is a time bomb waiting to blow any false cool and pretend mystic you've managed to muster in the first place. you need to know that this conversation can be very revealing towards several aspects of ones inner being, giving clues to such things as personality, hair color, and even sexual deviancy.
for example: invisibility. who wouldn't love to be invisible? coming and going as you please, catching small prey for dinner, pushing a younger sibling down the stairs and blaming it on there down syndrome. but your date knows exactly what you'd do if you were invisible. look at her boobies and downstairs parts. sample the goods before desert even comes out. invisibility equals pervert.
the gift of flight...a no brainer right? wrong. you're thinking about flying around with the birds in absolute freedom, breathing in of the clouds, stopping global warming. but your date is thinking other wise. she can totally picture you robbing the astronaughts of there space bucks. and you'd be smart to do it too, you can get a dollar seventeen for mars money down here on earth. sleazy thinking dirt bag. you're just another flyboy gone bad in her eyes.
"what about super sonic speed?" you ask. dude, guys finish way too early enough as it is. try pleasing a woman when you shoot in your pants moron. god! who are you anyway? reading this shit right now. obviously a dumb-dumb face if you thought super sonic speed.
the only real answer to even possibly give would have to be fresh breath. what? what did you just think? not a super power? try telling that to your new arch nemesis stank-tooth. plus you end up saving a ton of money on tic-tacs.
WRITERS NOTE: and you people wonder why i don't have a girl friend. 'cause this is the shit that goes through my mind at an alarming rate every single minute of every single day. super powers? where do i even get this shit? could you deal with it? i certainly can't. i mean seriously, this is what happens when i start sitting down at the ol' puter (that's slang talk for "com-puter"...get it? probably not...idiot). when is this going to stop? love you all, matt.
...one thing to always try to avoid on a date is the conversation in which you have to hypothetically pick super powers. now i know what you're thinking, you're thinking "but matt, i've never been on a date in which i didn't discuss the aspects of hypothetical super powers. it's such a great ice breaker and i'm a giant nerd." i know you idiots, but i'm even a more big eristic nerd and more awkward than any of you will ever be. i'm just trying to tell you the way it is. this seemingly obvious conversation which always comes up on all of my dates is a time bomb waiting to blow any false cool and pretend mystic you've managed to muster in the first place. you need to know that this conversation can be very revealing towards several aspects of ones inner being, giving clues to such things as personality, hair color, and even sexual deviancy.
for example: invisibility. who wouldn't love to be invisible? coming and going as you please, catching small prey for dinner, pushing a younger sibling down the stairs and blaming it on there down syndrome. but your date knows exactly what you'd do if you were invisible. look at her boobies and downstairs parts. sample the goods before desert even comes out. invisibility equals pervert.
the gift of flight...a no brainer right? wrong. you're thinking about flying around with the birds in absolute freedom, breathing in of the clouds, stopping global warming. but your date is thinking other wise. she can totally picture you robbing the astronaughts of there space bucks. and you'd be smart to do it too, you can get a dollar seventeen for mars money down here on earth. sleazy thinking dirt bag. you're just another flyboy gone bad in her eyes.
"what about super sonic speed?" you ask. dude, guys finish way too early enough as it is. try pleasing a woman when you shoot in your pants moron. god! who are you anyway? reading this shit right now. obviously a dumb-dumb face if you thought super sonic speed.
the only real answer to even possibly give would have to be fresh breath. what? what did you just think? not a super power? try telling that to your new arch nemesis stank-tooth. plus you end up saving a ton of money on tic-tacs.
WRITERS NOTE: and you people wonder why i don't have a girl friend. 'cause this is the shit that goes through my mind at an alarming rate every single minute of every single day. super powers? where do i even get this shit? could you deal with it? i certainly can't. i mean seriously, this is what happens when i start sitting down at the ol' puter (that's slang talk for "com-puter"...get it? probably not...idiot). when is this going to stop? love you all, matt.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
THE CONVERSATION THAT I HAD WITH A YOUNGER VERSION OF MYSELF
"in a field, i am the absence of field. this is always the case. wherever i am, i am what is missing." -mark strand
it was somewhere between may and june because i remember either the mayflies being late or the june bugs being early. but the whole place buzzed with life. it was the time of year when the dusk had just relearned to argue against the coming of the night. you could tell because the dead oak tree at the far end of the field silhouetted against the sky like heaven's windshield had been shattered. and i remember the wheat rolling with the wind. how i loved to watch it roll. it complemented my mood. swaying like a metronome to an ancient rhythm long since forgotten. a whispered cadence that only nature knew. grasshoppers jumped in step as if mortar rounds were soaring to unknown foxholes. a quiet war for a beautiful day. and let's not be mistaken...it was that kind of day. perfect and serene, somewhere out the pages of robert frost. it was the vermont i had grown up in. the vermont where i'd spend my life.
underneath that giant oak sat myself, seven years old and unassuming. what else to do but make introductions? i walked slowly taking in what i could, breathing the air, and feeling the stalks flirt against my thighs. i remember whipping my palm across both lashes of my eyes; clearing out the pollen, brushing daydreams from my mind. as i rounded the tree and came up next to myself i remember how unassuming i looked, how innocent, like i hadn't a care in the world. my whole life was ahead of me and i just sat there with a blade of wheat in my hand swiping it across my knee like it was my job. as if the whole world would end if i took a breath and stopped to look around.
"hi." i said with a surprising weakness to my voice, "mind if i sit down?"
he didn't look up but stopped playing with the wheat, then paused for what seemed like an eternity. "sure." he said, "i've been waiting for you." He spoke slowly and deliberate, strange for a boy of his age.
i brushed off my jeans and leaned quietly into the tree sitting down beside him. "how did you know i was coming?"
"because there was something you wanted to say." he never looked up. just out and into the distance, eyes fixated on the horizon as if waiting for something that was bound to come shortly. and he never stuttered or hesitated. his voice rang out; young but clear, awkward but full of confidence. and suddenly i wondered what i possibly could have to say.
"i guess i just wanted to tell you what it's going to be like when you grow up."
"oh?" he said with a strange candor to his tone. I remembered how he grimaced, looking down with his eyebrows raised, chuckling to a joke that he’d never share and one that I wouldn’t understand if he did.
"it's not like it is for you now...it's" i hesitated, wondering how to explain to a little boy the complications that life had in store.
"how is it?" he snapped back…butting in the way I still do to this day.
"it's different.” I finally blurted out, “hard i guess. things get really complicated."
"complicated how?" this wasn't going how i planned.
"there are a lot more problems...serious problems that might be hard to figure out."
"but there's never such thing as a problem without a gift wrapped inside." he said as if he'd been rehearsing it for years.
"what do you i mean?" i asked, surprised at what my younger self had to offer.
"we create our problems because we need their gifts. we need to learn from how we fail." i knew he was right but couldn't be sure how to respond. "why did you come here?" he added slowly but brimming with force and self-assurance.
"um...to talk to you about getting older."
"do you like yourself matt?" he asked.
"what do you mean?"
"do you like who you are?...it's a simple question." his words where so clear but there was still that childhood lisp that took away from there meaning. I swallowed back a laugh while digesting his phrase. The words rung clear but they took longer than usual to sink in.
"of course i do." i said finally, as sure of myself as ever.
he looked at me and smiled. his young eyes fixating upon mine with the familiarity of a mirror but with the strength of an untouched knowledge. "then this conversation is over,” he said, “I’ll see you when I get there."
he sat there with a strange smile on his face, staring off into the distance...so in love with the world that i knew never to disturb him again. i smiled too, and fell softly back to sleep.
"in a field, i am the absence of field. this is always the case. wherever i am, i am what is missing." -mark strand
it was somewhere between may and june because i remember either the mayflies being late or the june bugs being early. but the whole place buzzed with life. it was the time of year when the dusk had just relearned to argue against the coming of the night. you could tell because the dead oak tree at the far end of the field silhouetted against the sky like heaven's windshield had been shattered. and i remember the wheat rolling with the wind. how i loved to watch it roll. it complemented my mood. swaying like a metronome to an ancient rhythm long since forgotten. a whispered cadence that only nature knew. grasshoppers jumped in step as if mortar rounds were soaring to unknown foxholes. a quiet war for a beautiful day. and let's not be mistaken...it was that kind of day. perfect and serene, somewhere out the pages of robert frost. it was the vermont i had grown up in. the vermont where i'd spend my life.
underneath that giant oak sat myself, seven years old and unassuming. what else to do but make introductions? i walked slowly taking in what i could, breathing the air, and feeling the stalks flirt against my thighs. i remember whipping my palm across both lashes of my eyes; clearing out the pollen, brushing daydreams from my mind. as i rounded the tree and came up next to myself i remember how unassuming i looked, how innocent, like i hadn't a care in the world. my whole life was ahead of me and i just sat there with a blade of wheat in my hand swiping it across my knee like it was my job. as if the whole world would end if i took a breath and stopped to look around.
"hi." i said with a surprising weakness to my voice, "mind if i sit down?"
he didn't look up but stopped playing with the wheat, then paused for what seemed like an eternity. "sure." he said, "i've been waiting for you." He spoke slowly and deliberate, strange for a boy of his age.
i brushed off my jeans and leaned quietly into the tree sitting down beside him. "how did you know i was coming?"
"because there was something you wanted to say." he never looked up. just out and into the distance, eyes fixated on the horizon as if waiting for something that was bound to come shortly. and he never stuttered or hesitated. his voice rang out; young but clear, awkward but full of confidence. and suddenly i wondered what i possibly could have to say.
"i guess i just wanted to tell you what it's going to be like when you grow up."
"oh?" he said with a strange candor to his tone. I remembered how he grimaced, looking down with his eyebrows raised, chuckling to a joke that he’d never share and one that I wouldn’t understand if he did.
"it's not like it is for you now...it's" i hesitated, wondering how to explain to a little boy the complications that life had in store.
"how is it?" he snapped back…butting in the way I still do to this day.
"it's different.” I finally blurted out, “hard i guess. things get really complicated."
"complicated how?" this wasn't going how i planned.
"there are a lot more problems...serious problems that might be hard to figure out."
"but there's never such thing as a problem without a gift wrapped inside." he said as if he'd been rehearsing it for years.
"what do you i mean?" i asked, surprised at what my younger self had to offer.
"we create our problems because we need their gifts. we need to learn from how we fail." i knew he was right but couldn't be sure how to respond. "why did you come here?" he added slowly but brimming with force and self-assurance.
"um...to talk to you about getting older."
"do you like yourself matt?" he asked.
"what do you mean?"
"do you like who you are?...it's a simple question." his words where so clear but there was still that childhood lisp that took away from there meaning. I swallowed back a laugh while digesting his phrase. The words rung clear but they took longer than usual to sink in.
"of course i do." i said finally, as sure of myself as ever.
he looked at me and smiled. his young eyes fixating upon mine with the familiarity of a mirror but with the strength of an untouched knowledge. "then this conversation is over,” he said, “I’ll see you when I get there."
he sat there with a strange smile on his face, staring off into the distance...so in love with the world that i knew never to disturb him again. i smiled too, and fell softly back to sleep.
Monday, June 25, 2007
...it never made sense to me in all those so called "scary" movies where someone gets clubed over the head, placed in a brown burlap bag, and thrown in the back of a trunk. 'cause 9 times out of 10 they get brought up into the woods. i'd be all like, "darlin', i know we don't know each other very much but you've got everything i've ever wanted in a woman. strong, mysterious, you have a car which is always a plus, you brought me to the woods (one of my favorite places, and you're creative enough to hurt me at the beginning of our relationship instead of towards the end...do you think i can get your number before you do me in?"
Saturday, June 16, 2007
dear matthew j,
seeing how you've asked me several times if you could post my letters to you on your blog and have always been rejected, i thought, "hey, i'll just write you one that you can post." not that you have to (it might turn out to be an awful letter, i did just start writing it) but you have my permission if you want to. just don't use my name okay? who knows what kind of whack-jobs read that thing. i should know right, i'm certainly one of them, what does that say about the thing?
first of all, i'd like to thank you for your kind words towards me and for sharing the fact that you think i know you better then anyone. it meant a lot to me considering how you're one of the most complex people in the history of the universe, i took it as a compliment. just as long as you know that by 'complex' i mean 'boring' and by 'universe' i mean 'apartment'. which isn't really fair seeing how i've never met your roommates. perhaps it's just safer to say that i find you pretty damn cool, just don't let it go to your head.
as for your problems with the panic attacks and your refusal to take pills, i can't really help you there. i'd love to tell you to stop hanging out around so many people but i secretly know that you don't hang around with anybody and actually don't have any friends at all (you know what i mean). so what should you do? i don't know. just keep on keeping on. i do find it hysterical that you could address the entire population of this planet from behind a microphone or a bar or on a stage without so much as breaking a sweat, but freak out at a table with my friends without 17 jack and cokes. i don't mean to pick on you so much matt but it's ridiculous. ted always refers to you as the introverted extrovert and it makes me laugh.
since you didn't mention any trouble with the girls in your last letter i can only assume that all is well on that front. and by that i mean totally fucked as always. how are you not married yet? or at least with someone? dating for christs sake? (my mom would kill me, lords name in vein) is it still that #!?!%$# girl again? the one who couldn't comprehend that the greatest guy on earth just gave her his heart and she was too fucking stupid to know what to do with it? when are you going to get over that shit sweetie? it's been years right? it's time to move on mr. marro, she's obviously not as great as you thought she was. and the next time i come to burlington you'll have to remind me to kick the shit out of her. you're a catch matt and you know it. now don't let that adorable head of yours get too too big, but the last time you came down to visit both teressa and molly thought you were hot, smart, and funny as all hell. and they're right, because you are (after 17 jack and cokes of course). and let me tell you something about women...that's all you need to get them. so start getting back out there and get yourself one. you know that i would do you myself if it weren't for the hubbie. but he is leaving next weekend and if you want to come down...just kidding. not about the fucking you thing, but about ted leaving next weekend. but he likes to watch anyway, so maybe there's a chance.
anyway, i'm on my lunch hour and have to get back to work so i have to wrap this up. i love you so much sweetie. keep smiling and things will work out for you soon, i promise. let me just leave you with some quick thoughts and tips to catching the future bride:
1.) get over moron girl, she doesn't know what she's missing.
2.) stop being so picky, not everyone is as wonderful as me :)
3.) stop lying your ass off on dates. just because you and i find it hysterical when you tell people that you race dirt bikes, it doesn't mean that she will.
4.) when you actually find someone that you like, you have to stop spoiling them rotten. most girls get scared when they're treated like royalty.
5.) you have the biggest heart in the history of the world. seriously, you know you do. the thing must be gigantic. remember, hardly anybody gets your sense of humor at first. i myself fucking hated you for like a year straight in high school until you ran in front of the car to save the neighbors cat. girls won't get the chance to see that kind of stuff if you start talking about jews and killing babies with a perfectly straight face. so you might want to turn it down a notch. at least at first.
okay, my hand hurts and my writing is starting to get sloppy. i'm done now.
i love you matt,
#$!*&%?
seeing how you've asked me several times if you could post my letters to you on your blog and have always been rejected, i thought, "hey, i'll just write you one that you can post." not that you have to (it might turn out to be an awful letter, i did just start writing it) but you have my permission if you want to. just don't use my name okay? who knows what kind of whack-jobs read that thing. i should know right, i'm certainly one of them, what does that say about the thing?
first of all, i'd like to thank you for your kind words towards me and for sharing the fact that you think i know you better then anyone. it meant a lot to me considering how you're one of the most complex people in the history of the universe, i took it as a compliment. just as long as you know that by 'complex' i mean 'boring' and by 'universe' i mean 'apartment'. which isn't really fair seeing how i've never met your roommates. perhaps it's just safer to say that i find you pretty damn cool, just don't let it go to your head.
as for your problems with the panic attacks and your refusal to take pills, i can't really help you there. i'd love to tell you to stop hanging out around so many people but i secretly know that you don't hang around with anybody and actually don't have any friends at all (you know what i mean). so what should you do? i don't know. just keep on keeping on. i do find it hysterical that you could address the entire population of this planet from behind a microphone or a bar or on a stage without so much as breaking a sweat, but freak out at a table with my friends without 17 jack and cokes. i don't mean to pick on you so much matt but it's ridiculous. ted always refers to you as the introverted extrovert and it makes me laugh.
since you didn't mention any trouble with the girls in your last letter i can only assume that all is well on that front. and by that i mean totally fucked as always. how are you not married yet? or at least with someone? dating for christs sake? (my mom would kill me, lords name in vein) is it still that #!?!%$# girl again? the one who couldn't comprehend that the greatest guy on earth just gave her his heart and she was too fucking stupid to know what to do with it? when are you going to get over that shit sweetie? it's been years right? it's time to move on mr. marro, she's obviously not as great as you thought she was. and the next time i come to burlington you'll have to remind me to kick the shit out of her. you're a catch matt and you know it. now don't let that adorable head of yours get too too big, but the last time you came down to visit both teressa and molly thought you were hot, smart, and funny as all hell. and they're right, because you are (after 17 jack and cokes of course). and let me tell you something about women...that's all you need to get them. so start getting back out there and get yourself one. you know that i would do you myself if it weren't for the hubbie. but he is leaving next weekend and if you want to come down...just kidding. not about the fucking you thing, but about ted leaving next weekend. but he likes to watch anyway, so maybe there's a chance.
anyway, i'm on my lunch hour and have to get back to work so i have to wrap this up. i love you so much sweetie. keep smiling and things will work out for you soon, i promise. let me just leave you with some quick thoughts and tips to catching the future bride:
1.) get over moron girl, she doesn't know what she's missing.
2.) stop being so picky, not everyone is as wonderful as me :)
3.) stop lying your ass off on dates. just because you and i find it hysterical when you tell people that you race dirt bikes, it doesn't mean that she will.
4.) when you actually find someone that you like, you have to stop spoiling them rotten. most girls get scared when they're treated like royalty.
5.) you have the biggest heart in the history of the world. seriously, you know you do. the thing must be gigantic. remember, hardly anybody gets your sense of humor at first. i myself fucking hated you for like a year straight in high school until you ran in front of the car to save the neighbors cat. girls won't get the chance to see that kind of stuff if you start talking about jews and killing babies with a perfectly straight face. so you might want to turn it down a notch. at least at first.
okay, my hand hurts and my writing is starting to get sloppy. i'm done now.
i love you matt,
#$!*&%?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Saturday, June 09, 2007
SUMMER
...and any outside
cafe on church street will do
for watching people.
keeping amused as the martini
i'm drinking plays a game
to find me;
cold.
warm.
warmer...i drink it slow.
the dry vermouth
has a sense of humor
and a personality all its own.
unlike the owner
of those perfect breasts
the corner of my eye flickers to.
it's a good martini
and i'm being judgmental
less bitter
though just as salty...
i'm always thinking of you.
...and any outside
cafe on church street will do
for watching people.
keeping amused as the martini
i'm drinking plays a game
to find me;
cold.
warm.
warmer...i drink it slow.
the dry vermouth
has a sense of humor
and a personality all its own.
unlike the owner
of those perfect breasts
the corner of my eye flickers to.
it's a good martini
and i'm being judgmental
less bitter
though just as salty...
i'm always thinking of you.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
HUG A TREE
ahhh, back to the world of the living for the time being. and let me tell you...it sucks! is it wrong that i've had better conversations with trees than i've had with most people? i'm really not even sure what that means...but it's true. i feel like i just can't relate. for all the time i spend in the woods i always dread coming back. and end up wondering "why did i leave?" i end up being this little circus monkey that people come to see and pay huge amounts of money to spend an evening with. "matt's working the bar tonight, he'll make sure i have fun." and i do...time and time again. blast terribly amazing tunes from the stereo. dancing and laughing and saying wonderfully insightful things like, "well, if you don't love that person...you probably shouldn't be with them anymore." "wow! they all say....you're smart!" "no...i'm afraid not...i'm sober and you're a moron." why do i do this? 'cause it's my job. pushing the last legal drug onto the masses while they soak it up and fornicate all over the place, making stains, stealing my mojo, and sucking out my last shred of dignity as well as my will to live. i think i'm going to have to find a way to camp all year 'round. teach kids and play in the woods for pennies a day. sure, i'll be poor. but i'll be happy. and when i can't afford the kemo to save my cancer ridden body from almost certain death...i'll die with a smile and talk about how i'll become part of the soil cycle, giving nutrients to the earth for new life to grow.
ahhh, back to the world of the living for the time being. and let me tell you...it sucks! is it wrong that i've had better conversations with trees than i've had with most people? i'm really not even sure what that means...but it's true. i feel like i just can't relate. for all the time i spend in the woods i always dread coming back. and end up wondering "why did i leave?" i end up being this little circus monkey that people come to see and pay huge amounts of money to spend an evening with. "matt's working the bar tonight, he'll make sure i have fun." and i do...time and time again. blast terribly amazing tunes from the stereo. dancing and laughing and saying wonderfully insightful things like, "well, if you don't love that person...you probably shouldn't be with them anymore." "wow! they all say....you're smart!" "no...i'm afraid not...i'm sober and you're a moron." why do i do this? 'cause it's my job. pushing the last legal drug onto the masses while they soak it up and fornicate all over the place, making stains, stealing my mojo, and sucking out my last shred of dignity as well as my will to live. i think i'm going to have to find a way to camp all year 'round. teach kids and play in the woods for pennies a day. sure, i'll be poor. but i'll be happy. and when i can't afford the kemo to save my cancer ridden body from almost certain death...i'll die with a smile and talk about how i'll become part of the soil cycle, giving nutrients to the earth for new life to grow.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
EMBRACE
-for ninette
a real hug lasts
past the point
of feeling awkward...settling
in a place where
the scent of fabric
brushes softly off to skin,
leaving only introductions behind.
a sort of protocol for the kind
of comfort
that can make a body sigh,
to cause the breeze to moan,
or the night sky deliriously flicker.
arms should never wrap
out of obligation, but rather without
the intention
of ever letting go again.
hands press firmly against the back
inviting the rest of the world to stop...
and maybe even turn its head
then try to follow suit.
things slow down in time
the way everything tends to do,
blurring lines between all else out
for the rhythm of a heartbeat
multiplied by two.
backstage for warmth
exhalation waits patiently
until, at long last
its cue...
to take center stage
before being asked
to finally start breathing again.
-for ninette
a real hug lasts
past the point
of feeling awkward...settling
in a place where
the scent of fabric
brushes softly off to skin,
leaving only introductions behind.
a sort of protocol for the kind
of comfort
that can make a body sigh,
to cause the breeze to moan,
or the night sky deliriously flicker.
arms should never wrap
out of obligation, but rather without
the intention
of ever letting go again.
hands press firmly against the back
inviting the rest of the world to stop...
and maybe even turn its head
then try to follow suit.
things slow down in time
the way everything tends to do,
blurring lines between all else out
for the rhythm of a heartbeat
multiplied by two.
backstage for warmth
exhalation waits patiently
until, at long last
its cue...
to take center stage
before being asked
to finally start breathing again.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Dear Sons,
Saw Grandpa today and he's up but somewhat disoriented. He knew both Kevin & I, was sitting up and they had him walking as well. He's pretty weak and can't figure out how he got there. Presently he has no memory of the day he fell. He had tests that all came out negative and his blood alcohol level is down. He has to get stronger, hook up with his own doctor and be sure his environment is safe. Right now we're exploring 24 hour home care - but we're in early exploration right now.
Gramma is drifting in and out of memory loss - with confusion as well. She knows she can't take care of him right now but is aware of the criteria that needs to happen before he can get out of the hospital. Fantasy and reality are far apart for her right now!
I'm holding up since Kevin is here...he returns to VT Thursday and I'm trying to consider all the options for these two elders.
I'll keep you all posted and send me kind thoughts and ideas.
Love your MOM
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
CANCER
i need to know
you're out there.
the way a mariner at sea
learns to love a lighthouse.
so i yearn for simpler times...
when a day refuses to pass
without meaning.
because as of late
i've realized
either Orion is doing cartwheels
or my life is passing me by.
why don't we look up enough?
a day changes into a year
like it's slipping into something
more comfortable, and
your taste
has lingered
seven years in my mouth.
blurring time together
of memories
when you were mine.
sorry for bringing you up again.
i need to know
you're out there.
the way a mariner at sea
learns to love a lighthouse.
so i yearn for simpler times...
when a day refuses to pass
without meaning.
because as of late
i've realized
either Orion is doing cartwheels
or my life is passing me by.
why don't we look up enough?
a day changes into a year
like it's slipping into something
more comfortable, and
your taste
has lingered
seven years in my mouth.
blurring time together
of memories
when you were mine.
sorry for bringing you up again.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
TODAY IS NOT MY BIRTHDAY
...but not for want...
love instead.
obligation is a word
once invented, brought regret
then nothing else.
when i wasn't what
you needed
the world was a notion
that ceased to exist.
i was left
to wander instead.
banished to the land
of what might have been.
what's wrong with my elbows
that everyone leaves
once brushed against?
...but not for want...
love instead.
obligation is a word
once invented, brought regret
then nothing else.
when i wasn't what
you needed
the world was a notion
that ceased to exist.
i was left
to wander instead.
banished to the land
of what might have been.
what's wrong with my elbows
that everyone leaves
once brushed against?
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
MY FAVORITE LITTLE MONKEY
...i have these vivid memories from anthropology class where we were shown a movie of some crazy baby monkey testing. they had these three little monkeys separated in cages devoid of any interaction with any other living thing. one monkey had a steel armature covered in fur in it's cage that it would always rub against and cuddle to at night. they had one monkey with just a plain steel armature shaped somewhat like an older monkey. this little guy had scratch marks from where he tried to cuddle and just couldn’t get it right for some reason. and the last little guy, the saddest little monkey didn't have any shit at all. they all went crazy, but to varying degrees and over varying amounts of time. it doesn't take a scientist to figure it out without seeing the video. but i've always kind of wondered which one i could relate the most to. it certainly has a profound effect on one's understanding the need for affection. does anybody have a welder and/or a bag of hair that i can borrow?
...i have these vivid memories from anthropology class where we were shown a movie of some crazy baby monkey testing. they had these three little monkeys separated in cages devoid of any interaction with any other living thing. one monkey had a steel armature covered in fur in it's cage that it would always rub against and cuddle to at night. they had one monkey with just a plain steel armature shaped somewhat like an older monkey. this little guy had scratch marks from where he tried to cuddle and just couldn’t get it right for some reason. and the last little guy, the saddest little monkey didn't have any shit at all. they all went crazy, but to varying degrees and over varying amounts of time. it doesn't take a scientist to figure it out without seeing the video. but i've always kind of wondered which one i could relate the most to. it certainly has a profound effect on one's understanding the need for affection. does anybody have a welder and/or a bag of hair that i can borrow?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)