I HAVE BEEN LIKE YOU

 6 of 100

Abuliton flowering maple that I planted in my front garden patch two years ago.

"Good writing is always about things that are important to you, things that are scary to you, things that eat you up.

— John Edgar Wideman

27 January

Today is Hallelujah's birthday. She lived next door to me in the dormitory my first year at UCSC. Laurie, her real name, was a two years ahead of me. Her older brother had been in the first graduating class of UCSC which just opened in 1966. Laurie was a French major as there wasn't a formal thing called Medieval Studies, although she could have invented one there. I was always amazed at the piles of real French books in her room. She was once subjected to repeated listenings of one side of Europe '72 when I either left or slept through leaving the arm of the stereo in the position wherein it repeated indefinitely. I think I scarred her for the rest of her life.

Responding to the word scuddle, my friend Sonia wonders  "Is there a word for being busy with things that are continually undone? Like building sandcastles too close to the water..." I thought dishwashing might be it. 

The weather has been nice here. I am not doing much to enjoy it given that I sleep through many daylight hours and then spuddle around. Productivity time today will be even shorter as I have book group at 4:30 (it is 2 now). I can see the cats enjoying the overgrown backyard. Wish I could give you all some tangelos as I have many.

Another night of not sleeping for hours. I can doze just fine, but as to falling into a deep sleep, it takes hours. There I was waking up at the crack of 11. Although I staid in bed with my iPad, I did some emotional support work with two friends that are going through some tough times. I don't think that counts as spuddling.

My friend Laura in Texas is facing the loss of her first kitty who she found on the eve of her wedding. Sully has ended up being a part of my life, too, as Laura has posted many pictures of him. He has developed a cancer of the mouth and even I can see from the pictures that he is not getting better. Having lost more than my fair share of beloved felines, my heart really goes out to her. 

Another friend is breaking free from an ungrateful and abusive relationship. I have enlisted the truck and help of my friend Patrick to get her moved. She was fortunate to have a reasonably priced apartment fall into her lap with none of the usual rigamarole of credit check, first and last month's rent, and such. She has been trying to get out of the relationship for awhile and the stars lined up to grant her an easy transition, as easy as these transitions get.

Black tulip magnolias, tree planted last year.

You Think This Happened Only Once

and Long Ago

You think this happened only once and long ago?

Think of a summer night and someone

talking across the water,

maybe someone

you loved in a boat, rowing.  And you could

hears the oars dripping in the water, from

half a lake away, and they were far and

close at once. You didn’t need to touch them

or call to them or talk about it later.

— the sky? It was what you breathed. The lake?

sky that fell as rain. I have been like you

filled with worry, worry — then relief.

You know the wind is sky moving. It happens all the time.

— Marie Howe, The Kingdom of Ordinary Time, Norton, New York, 2008