SO MUCH WE DON'T CONTROL

I did try. I found the seeds I bought for this year, read the directions on several packets, then realized I am not ready, really, for the most part to plant much. I did start a small tray of Mexican Sunflowers from seed. Supposedly, they look like this. I have never had much luck with them. I also cleared out a patch for some bulbs (can't remember what), if the cats don't find it a perfect place for pooping. I am suspicious as Oona was out there, already helping me.



"They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn..."

I finally improved my life a little bit by purchasing an inexpensive bluetooth speaker. Now, I can listen to some of my music when I am in my room. I am a bit limited to what is on my iPhone, but still. I took the speaker into the bathroom with me and as soon as Antonio Carlos Jobim floated out of the speaker as I steeped into the steamy tub, I felt luxury. More music. That's what I need. Now I am sitting all warm listening to Blood On The Tracks, perfect for a rainy night.

A rainy morning here. I had one hell of an anxiety dream/nightmare. I was in a hurry, trying to get some falafels and such to my friend, Jason Rosen, who was in a stressful situation (trying to escape something), but staying at Martha and Jay's in Brewster. I was driving a truly hot car that I was considering returning to the dealership as I wasn't sure I could properly drive it. I couldn't properly coordinate the clutch and the accelerator. But the weird part was all the stuff in the car that somehow kept getting in my way and tangling me up, like a big black wool sweater. I wasn't sure how it was confusing my feet, but it was.

My takeaway was that this was a dream about having so much stuff that I cannot move forward fast enough nor operate my life properly. But who knows. And nary a one of you had better throw this back at me.

Meanwhile, my mom just sauntered down the hall, drawling, "Sally, did you know that Jesus died?" Normally, this is the kind of question that moves me along the postal scale, but her delivery was so relaxed and fey that I didn't have my usual negative reaction. Evidently, some Christians were working the Easter angle and wanted to make sure we were informed.

Black-Throated Wind has been floating through my brain this morning. (Lyrics at very end.)

My jeans are all in the wash, or rather now, the dryer, so it's okay that I am still in my nightgown at the advanced hour of nearly one, right? Cartoon County: My Father and His Friends in the Golden Age of Make-Believe is due at the library today with no more renewals, so needs must be finished. Highly recommended for any one who loves comics, comic strips, the lure of 20th century suburban Connecticut, and John Updike.

Monday.

Tomorrow is mass for my sister. If Janet and I can get it together, we are going. Getting anywhere on time is almost always an issue with us. But you knew that.

I am very disappointed that my friends Max Porter and Ru Kuwahata did not win an Academy Award for best animated short.

The being tipsy or drunk part, I don't really miss in these days of mostly not-drinking. The ritual, the activity, the stimulation of taste, those things I do think about in the evenings. At this point in the year, the evenings seem quite long. That will change this weekend when daylight savings' time returns.

SHIFT

Words have loyalties
to so much
we don't control.
Each word we write
rights itself
according to poles
we can't see; think of
magnetic compulsion
or an equal stringency
It's hard for us
to imagine how small
a part we play in
holding up the tall
spires we believe
our minds erect.
Then North shifts,
buildings shear,
and we suspect.

— Kay Ryan, The Best of It: New and Selected Poems, New York, Grove Press, 2010



































Perhaps the gardening will improve with a later dusk. I do have quite a few bulbs to try out. The cats certainly enjoy humans hanging with them in the back yard. They rush to throw themselves on their backs, squirming around in welcome.

BLACK THROATED WIND
lyrics by John Barlow

Bringing me down
I'm running aground
Blind in the light of the interstate cars
Passing me by
The buses and semis
Plunging like stones from a slingshot on Mars

But I'm here by the road
Bound to the load
That I picked up in ten thousand cafes and bars
Alone with the rush of the drivers who won't pick me up
The highway, the moon, the clouds, and the stars

The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in
With its words of a life where nothing is new
Ah, Mother American Night, I'm lost from the light
Oh, I'm drowning in you

I left St. Louis, the City of Blues
In the midst of a storm I'd rather forget
I tried to pretend it came to an end
'Cause you weren't the woman I thought I once met

But I can't deny that times have gone by
When I never had doubts or thoughts of regret
And I was a man when all this began
Who wouldn't think twice about being there yet

The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in
And it speaks of a life that passes like dew
It's forced me to see that you've done better by me
Better by me than I've done by you

What's to be found, racing around
You carry your pain wherever you go
Full of the blues and trying to lose
You ain't gonna learn what you don't want to know

So I give you my eyes, and all of their lies
Please help them to learn as well as to see
Capture a glance and make it a dance
Of looking at you looking at me

The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in
With its words of a lie that could almost be true
Ah, Mother American Night, here comes the light
I'm turning around, that's what I'm gonna do

Goin' back home that's what I'm gonna do

Turnin' around
That's what I'm gonna do

'Cause you've done better by me
Than I've done by you