That Mystery Achievement does not give up its hold on mind space easily. Perhaps I can replace with another Pretenders song.
Ahhhh ... sweet vacation. On day four of holiday, trying to see if my ticket can be changed so that I can extend my time away. Janet is doing well; she sounds fine.
Many days later.
The Pretenders have not left me. Tattooed Love Boys is a bit harsh for the morning.
Now into May.
Reading about the finer points of deadheading petunias. Yes, it has come to this. And, for all my bullshitting, I bought some vegetables for planting today. I tried to keep it to something reasonable, as in only one shisito pepper, one zucchini, one Thai eggplant. Yes, I did buy a flat of kale, but that's the way it came. I hope to hand some of them off to a local for their cultivation. And the tomatoes, many of which were new varieties, to me, at least, were half off.
I cannot put it off much longer. The gardening must be done.
Later in May.
I've been sick since May 5th. Perhaps being ill should not have precluded the sedentary act of writing, but the will was gone.
Gotta get over the hump. Although we are well over the hump of May. And it has been fairly non-stop June gloom around here. I suppose that goes well with my lingering illness.
I do feel very slightly better today. My sleeping is somewhere near reasonable and the ringing in my ears isn't too bad. I need to resist the temptation to do very much, though.
Last week was the death anniversaries of several people close to me: my father in 2003, Verne in 2008, Carl in 2009, and Stuart in 2015.
This morning, I toggle between Monday, Monday and My Father.
I am not at all sure music can soothe this savage beast.
When the sky is so leaden and gray for so very many days, I feel so flattened. Even the color splash of the neighbor's red and yellow roses, don't help very much. I feel as if I need to drive all the way to sunlight.
The most recent school shooting, the Supreme Court decision to limit worker's rights to sue, the extreme financial difficulty faced by several friends (and me), the health and well-being of close friends, all of these things are with me.
May needs to be over. I signed up for a yoga school pass that was a stretch to afford, only to get sick two days later. I have been once since and it kicked me back into sick. I do feel better today, but not going to risk a class.
Okay, on to other things.
NEXT, PLEASE
Always too eager for the future, we
Pick up bad habits of expectancy.
Something is always approaching; every day
Till then we say,
Watching from a bluff the tiny, clear,
Sparkling armada of promises draw near.
How slow they are! And how much time they waste,
Refusing to make haste!
Yet still they leave us holding wretched stalks
Of disappointment, for though nothing balks
Each big approach, leaning with brainwork prinked,
Each rope distinct,
Flagged, and the figurehead with golden tits
Arching our way, it never anchors; it's
no sooner present than it turns to past.
Right to the last
We think each one will heave to and unload
All good into our lives, all we are owed
For waiting so devoutly and so long,
But we are wrong:
Only one ship is seeking us, a black-
Sailed unfamiliar, towing at her back
A huge and bridles silence. In her wake
No waters breed or brake.
Philip Larkin, The Less Deceived, Marvell Press
MY FATHER
Ahhhh ... sweet vacation. On day four of holiday, trying to see if my ticket can be changed so that I can extend my time away. Janet is doing well; she sounds fine.
Many days later.
The Pretenders have not left me. Tattooed Love Boys is a bit harsh for the morning.
Now into May.
Reading about the finer points of deadheading petunias. Yes, it has come to this. And, for all my bullshitting, I bought some vegetables for planting today. I tried to keep it to something reasonable, as in only one shisito pepper, one zucchini, one Thai eggplant. Yes, I did buy a flat of kale, but that's the way it came. I hope to hand some of them off to a local for their cultivation. And the tomatoes, many of which were new varieties, to me, at least, were half off.
I cannot put it off much longer. The gardening must be done.
Later in May.
I've been sick since May 5th. Perhaps being ill should not have precluded the sedentary act of writing, but the will was gone.
Gotta get over the hump. Although we are well over the hump of May. And it has been fairly non-stop June gloom around here. I suppose that goes well with my lingering illness.
I do feel very slightly better today. My sleeping is somewhere near reasonable and the ringing in my ears isn't too bad. I need to resist the temptation to do very much, though.
Last week was the death anniversaries of several people close to me: my father in 2003, Verne in 2008, Carl in 2009, and Stuart in 2015.
This morning, I toggle between Monday, Monday and My Father.
I am not at all sure music can soothe this savage beast.
When the sky is so leaden and gray for so very many days, I feel so flattened. Even the color splash of the neighbor's red and yellow roses, don't help very much. I feel as if I need to drive all the way to sunlight.
The most recent school shooting, the Supreme Court decision to limit worker's rights to sue, the extreme financial difficulty faced by several friends (and me), the health and well-being of close friends, all of these things are with me.
May needs to be over. I signed up for a yoga school pass that was a stretch to afford, only to get sick two days later. I have been once since and it kicked me back into sick. I do feel better today, but not going to risk a class.
Okay, on to other things.
NEXT, PLEASE
Always too eager for the future, we
Pick up bad habits of expectancy.
Something is always approaching; every day
Till then we say,
Watching from a bluff the tiny, clear,
Sparkling armada of promises draw near.
How slow they are! And how much time they waste,
Refusing to make haste!
Yet still they leave us holding wretched stalks
Of disappointment, for though nothing balks
Each big approach, leaning with brainwork prinked,
Each rope distinct,
Flagged, and the figurehead with golden tits
Arching our way, it never anchors; it's
no sooner present than it turns to past.
Right to the last
We think each one will heave to and unload
All good into our lives, all we are owed
For waiting so devoutly and so long,
But we are wrong:
Only one ship is seeking us, a black-
Sailed unfamiliar, towing at her back
A huge and bridles silence. In her wake
No waters breed or brake.
Philip Larkin, The Less Deceived, Marvell Press
MY FATHER
My father always promised us
That we would live in France
We'd go boating on the Seine
And I would learn to dance
That we would live in France
We'd go boating on the Seine
And I would learn to dance
We lived in Ohio then
He worked in the mines
On his dreams like boats
We knew we would sail in time
He worked in the mines
On his dreams like boats
We knew we would sail in time
All my sisters soon were gone
To Denver and Cheyenne
Marrying their grownup dreams
The lilacs and the man
To Denver and Cheyenne
Marrying their grownup dreams
The lilacs and the man
I stayed behind the youngest still
Only danced alone
The colors of my father's dreams
Faded without a sound
Only danced alone
The colors of my father's dreams
Faded without a sound
And I live in Paris now
My children dance and dream
Hearing the ways of a miner's life
In words they've never seen
My children dance and dream
Hearing the ways of a miner's life
In words they've never seen
I sail my memories of home
Like boats across the Seine
And watch the Paris sun
As it sets in my father's eyes again
Like boats across the Seine
And watch the Paris sun
As it sets in my father's eyes again
My father always promised us
That we would live in France
We'd go boating on the Seine
And I would learn to dance
That we would live in France
We'd go boating on the Seine
And I would learn to dance
I sail my memories of home
Like boats across the Seine
And watch the Paris sun
As it sets in my father's eyes again
Like boats across the Seine
And watch the Paris sun
As it sets in my father's eyes again
— Judy Collins
